Know the Cow

This is not about the dangerous organisms that can be found in milk. Nor does it take sides in the debate over pasteurization. This is what I discovered by accident that not everyone else may know.

Along with every other animal, I have always loved cows. When we go to the fairgrounds for the county fair, I hope the owner will not mind if I place my hand on their side when they are lying down on fresh straw or hay, their halters tied to the post. If their eyes register panic or fear, I back off, because I only want to transfer a small patch of my warmth onto them.

At one time I contemplated getting a milk cow, and imagined how cool it would be able to skim off the cream, and make cheese, ice cream and yogurt from the milk, but that did not happen. Instead, we supported a small local dairy for our milk and ice cream. We would turn down a narrow lane flanked by waving green meadow grass until we reached the shop with a sunny porch and the barns. The owner would sometimes be driving a tractor, bulldozing manure and bedding into large pile in a sunny area adjacent to the barns that shaded the milk cows. The pens that contained the calves were lined up alongside the road. The pens did not consist of much, just large plastic structures resembling huge cat litter boxes to shelter the calves from the elements with sturdy metal fencing laced together with baling wire on the sides. As for size, the pens were maybe three yards wide and six yard long. The calves stood silently as though they were frozen on the spot. They barely turned their heads or swished their tails to…