Some days, it's just not worth getting out of bed

Let me tell you about my morning in the barn. Keep in mind you can't really visualize the layout of everything I mention, but that's okay. Just soak up the chaos.

With sunrise getting later, I've been going out to the barn to milk Maggie around 5:45 am. This morning, when I tried to open the gate into the livestock side of the barn, I couldn't get it open because Romeo was lying down in front of it.

(This is what the gate looks like. This photo was taken before the milking stall and calf pen were built in the space to the left.)

My hands were full with the milking buckets in one hand and a scoop of grain in the other. I poked and prodded at Romeo through the space at the bottom of the gate, but he wouldn't move.

So I put down the buckets and the grain, and got more serious about poking and prodding him ("Come on, Romeo, move!"), but nothing doing. He was quite comfortable, thank you, and didn't see a reason to get up.

So I had to go outside the barn and go through two side gates to get into the corral, which got the other cows all excited. ("Are we going out that gate today? Yippee!") But Romeo hadn't moved. He was still comfortably bedded down in front of the gate.

So I shooed him up, slipped through the gate to grab the grain and milk buckets I'd left on the other side, only to turn around and be confronted by Maggie who wanted her grain right now. I managed to dart into the outer milking pen and slam the gate in Maggie's face before she could get in. I put down the grain and milking buckets and managed to get Stormy, the calf, back into the inner pan (Stormy has access to both pens overnight).

(This is the current setup, with the milking stall to the left, the inner calf pen in center-back, and the outer pen in center-front. The gate Romeo was blocking is to the right.)

Then I put the grain in Maggie's grain bucket on the other side of the head gate, opened the milking stall door, and let her in. She settled into her grain, I got the milking stool and leg tie from the shelf where I keep them, tied up Maggie's back let, and started milking.

Everything was going fine. Maggie was eating her grain. The rest of the animals were patiently waiting for breakfast (we've been feeding hay mornings and evenings since the pastures are pretty much eaten down). Stormy was quiet and patient, waiting for me to finish milking before she got her own breakfast.

Maggie finished her grain and, as she always does, took a step back in the milking stall. This is the point where I readjust her leg-tie and keep milking.

But wait, Maggie didn't stop. She kept backing out of the milking stall. Whaaaat? How is this even happening? What are you doing? Keep in mind Maggie's back leg was still tied. I yanked the end of the slip knot so she wouldn't trip and panic, and she continued backing all the way out of the stall.

It took me a moment to realize, in the chaotic moments before I started milking, I didn't lock Maggie's neck into the head gate of the milking stall.

(You can see the head gate in the closed position at the end of the milking stall below. Her grain bucket is on the other side.)

Well, there was nothing else to do but release Stormy (who got an exceptionally rich breakfast as a result) and fetch the tie off Maggie's leg. I fed the animals and came back into the house, sporting a nearly empty milk bucket.

The annoying thing is, I still had to clean and sanitize everything as if I'd gotten a full day's milking, rather than the pathetic one pint I managed to get.

Some days, it's just not worth getting out of bed.

Milking Maggie

This is a long post, so grab a cup of tea and follow our adventures as we train Maggie to be a milk cow.

Ever since little Stormy's unexpectedly early birth, Don has been slamming to build the calf pen and milking stall.

In the photo below, you can see the milking stall on the left, with the adjustable head-gate at the end. In the back-right is the calf pen, and in the front-right is the ... I dunno what to call it, the outer pen? ... where I'll sit on a crate and milk.

After this initial set-up was complete, we spent about a week training Maggie to come into the milking stall and put her head through the head-gate for grain. We also encouraged Stormy to go into the calf pen, but didn't close the gate. In other words, we just let the animals get used to things without pressure.

Here's Maggie's grain bucket in the little alcove on the other side of the head-gate.

Meanwhile, since we had removed the barn mats while building the infrastructure, we cut the mats to fit the new pens so Stormy wouldn't be on concrete while confined. We didn't put a mat in the milking stall, though, so it has a concrete floor for easier cleaning.

The one issue we hadn't resolved what what to do when Maggie urinated or defecated while in the milking stall. This may sound trivial or silly, but in fact it's a serious consideration for both sanitation (for the milk) and comfort (for me). In previous milking situations, we always had gravel or dirt floors, which meant most of the time it was no big deal. This is the first time I would be milking on concrete, and I knew things were likely to splash.

We tossed around a number of ideas: An elevated platform with a grate and a "litter box" underneath? A tub partly filled with sawdust placed right behind Maggie's legs?

Neither seemed ideal, but we couldn't think of anything else.

With that issue unresolved, the evening finally came when we planned to confine the calf for the first time so I could milk Maggie the following morning. I was a jittery bundle of nerves because first times are always stressful for bovines and humans alike.

At first we thought we would confine both the calf (to the pen) and Maggie (inside the barn) each night, similar to what we did just after Stormy was born and the weather was so rainy. After a great deal of effort, we got the calf in the pen...

...and Maggie in the barn with the doors shut.

To say this first attempt was a failure is to engage in the drollest understatement. Maggie had full access to the milking stall, and the calf desperately tried to climb through the head-gate of the stall to get to her mama. It was impossibly unsafe to leave them in the barn for the night. So, literally thirty seconds after everyone was confined, we released them again.

Back to Square One. Well, Square Two. Don got busy making extra security. He made a solid gate inside the calf pen to block off the little alcove where the grain bucket was (the little spot in the upper-left corner of the diagram below).

This gate could be closed and latched, so we still have access to the space but the calf doesn't.

Then he made a solid gate (on the left) to block off access to the milking stall. He also reinforced the strength of the outer pen gate (right).

Okay. Phew. A few days later, with all these reinforcements in place, we tried once again to tuck the calf away for the night, though this time we didn't try to confine Maggie to the barn.

We started the process, as usual, by giving Maggie her grain. (Notice the heavy-duty crossbeam separating the milking stall from the outer pen. That comes into the story later on.)

While Maggie was engaged with the grain, we were able to scoot Stormy into the calf pen. And then the fun began!

Maggie was mooing in distress at being separated from her calf. Mignon and Romeo came in to offer moral support.

It quickly became apparent that the milking stall gate was too low. Obviously the calf couldn't reach it, but Maggie was leaning over it, and I was afraid she would hurt herself trying to reach her baby. So I asked Don to hastily screw in a board blocking the upper portion for extra security.

I lingered in the barn for about half an hour, just to make sure nothing went amiss. Fortunately the increased security of the infrastructure held, and eventually everyone calmed down. The calf laid down in her pen and Maggie wandered off to graze. Once full darkness fell, there wasn't even very much bellowing from either Maggie or Stormy through the night.

Both Don and I were up verrrry early the next morning. He planned to assist me during the first couple days of milking. I deliberately didn't bring my camera since I knew I would be far too stressed and busy to take photos.

Armed with buckets, we went into the barn, got Maggie into the milking stall with some grain, and I sat down to milk.

Immediately we knew additional changes would have to be made. The hobble rope we used to secure Maggie's back leg to the post was insufficient, and she kicked it off with one attempt. (Hobbling a back leg is necessary to prevent the milker from being kicked in the head, either accidentally or deliberately. Ask me how I know.) We placed a tub with sawdust behind her in case she urinated, but she promptly kicked it away.

I started milking, and Maggie didn't know what to think of this. Remember, all this was absolutely new to her. She may have been feeling relief, as her udder was full; but she was restless and nervous, and I was overly cautious and tense.

At one point Maggie made a sudden move, and I jumped up from the milking crate and CRACKED my head against that crossbeam above me. I staggered around for a few moments in agony and had an impressive lump for a day or so. Whee, what fun!

Anyway, even with all the chaos, I managed to get three-quarters of a gallon of milk before calling it quits. We released Maggie, released the calf, and Don and I stumbled into the house where we collapsed in chairs, drinking the tea/coffee we hadn't had a chance to have earlier.

After we calmed down, we assessed what went right and what went wrong. We determined the reason I cracked my head was because I was underneath the crossbeam rather than on the other side of it; and the reason I was underneath it was because Maggie was too far over in the stall. In other words, the milking stall was too wide. We would have to insert a spacer to push her closer to me, so I could milk her without being directly under the crossbeam.

We reworked a number of issues. Don installed a permanent higher board across the milking-stall gate.

I got a stouter rope and used a simple slip-knot around Maggie's back leg.

The rope is slipped through an eye-bolt for security, although I use a quick-release knot just in case.

The whole urination/defecation thing was easy-peasy to solve. On the second morning of milking, Don spontaneously shoveled a small pile of sawdust behind Maggie's back feet ... and it worked! This is the same sawdust I had been using for months to sprinkle on the barn floor to absorb urine, after which it could be easily raked up and put on the compost pile. Why we tried to overly complicate this issue is anyone's guess.

Don came out with me on the second morning to assist if necessary, but since milking is my task, I asked him just to be on standby in case I needed help.

The second morning went 100% more smoothly. Maggie stayed calm. Stormy stayed calm. I was very careful not to crack my head on the crossbeam, especially since we hadn't yet installed a spacer to push her body closer to me. In fact, Don left halfway through the milking because I didn't need him for any assistance. I milked out 1.5 gallons, released Maggie's hobble tie, opened the head-gate, let Stormy out of her pen, and voilà. Absolutely night and day from the first challenging milking.

It should be noted that start-up chaos like this is perfectly normal, especially for a cow's first time. I knew both Maggie and Stormy would soon settle into a routine and learn what was expected of them.

And so it proved. I've been milking for several days now, getting about 1.5 gallons each day, and everything has gone so smoothly that Don doesn't need to accompany me to the barn.

We still had some improvements to make, however, notably installing a spacer in the milking stall. We had an oversized pallet that was the perfect size, so we secured it in place.

Because we felt the edge of the pallet was too sharp, Don trimmed and installed a piece of foam pipe insulation to the corner.

And, because there was a length of insulation left over, I slipped it over the crossbeam. Y'know, just in case.

The spacer worked. I'm able to milk much more comfortably without having to crouch my way under the crossbeam to reach Maggie's udder.

So that's been our adventures over the past couple of weeks. Maggie is now trained to milk, and we're starting to work with Stormy to lead-train her. Now I have to get back into dairy mode since we're swimming in milk.

Milking stall and calf pen

Don and I couldn't agree on something. The issue has been nagging at both of us, and we couldn't come up with an adequate solution. I refer to the subject of building a milking stall and calf pen.

Maggie, our Jersey heifer, is getting close to her due date, which we estimate will be toward the end of May, give or take a few days.

What we typically do with our milking cows is to let the calf have unrestricted access to mama's milk for the first week or so. This will insure the baby gets suitable colostrum and an opportunity to bond with mama. Additionally, since this is Maggie's first calf, she'll need a few days to get used to being a mother.

After that, however, it will be time to milk Maggie. And to do this, we need a calf pen where we can separate the calf up at night so I can milk Maggie in the morning. Once-a-day milking will give us plenty of milk and is less stressful for both cow and calf.

But how to build the calf pen and milking stall? That was the question. This is not a trivial issue. These structures will shape the function of the livestock side of the barn for years to come.

The problem is the limited space we have in the barn, which has already been subdivided into multiple uses (storage lofts, tool shop, wood shop, hay storage, etc.).

The space we have dedicated for interior livestock needs (including the feed box) is about 10 feet by 30 feet. With the feed box at one end (taking up 10 feet of space) and a wide center gate (taking up about 9 feet), we wanted to put the calf pen and milking stall at the other end.

This leaves us about 11 feet of room. Ten by eleven feet; that's what we had to work with.

Initially both Don and I had vastly different ideas of how to build these two facilities. His original vision was to put the calf pen on the left, the milking stall in the middle, and the milker (me!) sandwiched between the milking stall and the right-hand wall. (The arrow indicates where Maggie's head will be facing.)

I didn't like this because it only gave me about three feet of space, which didn't give me room to back up or move around. Believe me, when cows decide to let loose and urinate during milking, the milker learns to scramble out of the way, taking the milk buckets with her. I needed space at my back.

My thought was to have a sideways milking stall, with a fold-out gate where I could close it and lock Maggie inside, when me on the outside.

For a variety of reasons, including the difficulty of physically securing a freestanding stall, Don didn't like this idea. Additionally, I would be crouched on a milking stool with my back to the cows while milking, which is a vulnerable position should some other bovine decide to get rambunctious.

We stared at the available space and tried to come up with other options. "Just a crazy outside-the-box thought," I suggested. "What if we put the milking stall along the wall and I milk while inside the calf pen?"

Don didn't like this idea because the calf would be all over the milk buckets while I was milking ... not to mention chewing on my hair and clothing.

Again we stood back and stared at the space. We were stymied, absolutely stymied, as to the best configuration for the milking stall and calf pen.

Finally Don had a brilliant idea, based in part on my last suggestion. He suggested building an inner (calf) pen and outer "milking" pen, with either sliding or swinging gates (we haven't decided) leading into both. The milking stall would push part of the way into the calf pen. The outer "milking" pen, which is where I'll be sitting to milk, will be protected from the other animals, and extra pen space is always a good idea.

So he mocked up the design on the computer, in part to figure out how many posts he'll have to secure to the concrete, etc.

As this project takes physical shape, doubtless we'll be making tweaks and adjustments; but given our space restrictions as well as personal preferences (I like to milk from the cow's right side, for example), this is the very best use of the space we can think of.

Just another example of what it takes to develop infrastructure on a homestead.

Morning milking

I've been milking Polly fairly regularly. Not every day, just when I need milk. And sometimes I milk her just because I like to milk. It's a warm, wholesome, personal thing, to milk a cow.

So last night I locked Polly in Matilda's pen (maybe I should start calling it Polly's pen) so I could milk this morning.

Milking accouterments: clean bucket, smaller bowl, and wash rag in a bowl with very hot water.

It was 5:47 am when I left the house. Not because a cow needs to be milked at 5:47 am, but because I'm an early riser and had been up for an hour already.

Petunia was lowing pitifully for her mama.

Polly was lowing back.

I leashed up Polly and walked her into the milking pen. I run the lead rope through an eye-bolt, then wrap the rope around one of the stout poles. There's a feed box right below Polly's chin where I could put grain. But Polly never ate the grain -- seriously -- so I stopped putting any in there. It's not a bad thing for a cow to learn to stand quietly while milking, without bribery. I didn't set out to train Polly to milk without a bribe, she just did this on her own. No complaints.

I also tie the pallet gate behind her, to keep her from trying to back out. We still don't have a chain-hook arrangement on the gate, so I use a quick-release knot using baling twine. (Incidentally, Don thinks we should re-name our farm Baling Twine Ranch or something, since we use baling twine for everything.)

I also take the precaution of hobbling her back leg. Polly has been an extraordinarily calm milker from the start -- I am continuously amazed by her sweet disposition -- but a back leg can lash out with lightning speed. I'm attuned to the subtle shifts in weight that forewarn of swipes that could knock over a milking bucket, but it's not a guaranteed thing. So I hobble that leg.

Then I wash the udder and teats with the soaking hot rag. This is absolutely necessary. Some days the udder is pretty clean...

...but this wasn't one of them.

Next I take three squirts out of each teat, either onto the ground or into this small container. If there is any bacteria in the milk, it will be in those first couple of squirts (since that milk is closest to the opening of the teat). Also, if there's any mastitis in the milk, I'll feel the "squiggles" as they come out of the teat. Polly has never had mastitis, but I'm all too familiar with it from Matilda's battle with it.

All this preliminary stuff is automatic and just takes a couple of minutes. Then I settle into the actual milking itself. Depending on how much milk I get, the milking takes anywhere from fifteen to twenty minutes. Milking is a two-handed job, so I couldn't take any shots of the milking itself.

As I milked, the chickens entertained me with their little dramas. Here Smokey is squawking and trying to get away from King (the white rooster), who has nefarious designs upon her virtue. She jumped up on the pallet blocking the chicken coop in an effort to escape.

It didn't work. King jumped up on the pallet and completed his mission right there, which was an impressive feat of balance if nothing else, the randy twit.

Victoria wandered by to see what I was doing.

Petunia, waiting for me to finish with her mama, wasn't above sneaking a drink from Victoria.

About half-way done.

My audience.

When I finished milking, I un-hobbled Polly's back leg, untied the pallet gate, and unclipped the lead rope from her halter. She backed herself out of the stall...

...and went looking for her baby.

Now all is right with the world.

I hang the hobble on a nail between milkings.

I sit on this crate. I like these types of plastic crates for milking because I can hook my fingers through the slats and move it at a moment's notice (such as when scooting away from a restless cow).

I was back in the house by 6:20 am.

My next step is to strain the milk. I put a colander over another (smaller) clean bucket...

...and line it with an old piece of clean sheeting. I have a number of squares of sheeting reserved for straining milk.

Then I pour the fresh milk through the sheeting into the other bucket. Since the other bucket is smaller, I do this in batches.

Total this morning: about 1.6 gallons.

It's important to date the milk.

Now comes the clean-up. I scrub the buckets with soap and a touch of bleach, then rinse; and rinse again with boiling water.

After I rinse the straining cloth, I soak it in boiling water for a few minutes.

When the buckets are dry, I nest them and put a "shower cap"-style plastic cover over, to keep them clean until the next milking.

Some people insist that seamless stainless steel buckets (cha-ching!), glass jars, and disposable strainers are required for handling fresh milk. While I agree those things are nice and are easier to keep clean, I haven't found them to be necessary. The milk is solely for our consumption so no one else has to concern themselves with our equipment.

Tomorrow the cream will have risen, and I'll skim it off. Since Polly is nursing her calf, I won't get much more than about three cups of cream or so from this milking.

I am so glad to be milking once again, after a two-year hiatus. On this day of doubtful independence for America during which gangs and terrorists have shut down or altered celebrations all over the nation, milking a cow is my own little personal statement of independence.