I decided this morning to simply try to milk Fern as she will be milked from now on. No more tubing the baby. I hoped to avoid the manure-caked foot into the pail, since leaving her tied up to run and clean the bucket was entirely too stressful for her and me.
On some level, I think she understands that milking is her job. Really, if she didn't want me to catch her, she could simply resist. The fact that she allows me to get a lead on her, even though she walks on the lead most unwillingly, shows me that she acknowledges her roll in the farm.
The morning milking again brought me to tears. The half cup or so she let me squeeze out was so extremely frustrating! But she's learning, and she wasn't as aggressive (until the very end: I'm wasn't sure how to unhook her lead. I've since decided that, for the time being, I will hop the fence so there is a physical barrier between us, and unhook her from there. Less fear on my part, easier to understand on hers). The baby didn't look great, but I didn't pick him up again, nor tube him (since I had so little milk).
Mid day, long-time friend brought ice cream to cheer Isaiah. We went to look at the calf, and he stood up and headed over to his mother, where he nursed for what appeared to be an adequate amount. It was the first spontaneous demonstration of maternal instinct I had seen, and the relief was very great.
Denise was determined to help me in some task, so we picked garlic. This is one of the most fulfilling tasks of the year, to get to pull an eagerly awaited crop that has no sign of how it's doing until harvesting.
I have one bed, my favorite variety, yet to pick. It's not quite ready. But it looks to be a good harvest! Same with the potato onions, a multiplier onion that may be the best bet I have to get full-sized onions in our warm climate.
I went down with Phil to move the cows today. We stopped to see the calf on our way down. He toddled over to his mother, and then began to nudge Snowman. The bull appeared quite startled, but since the baby is small enough to walk underneath his mother, I don't think Snowman felt threatened by the little guy.
The cows were all congregated in the wooded bottom land near the creek. There were plenty of flies, but I think the relief from the heat of the sun made it worth it to the cows. They looked a little hungry (Phil learned that the left side of the cow has a triangle near the hips that shows the rumen. If the triangle is sunken in, the cows are hungry; if the triangle is smoothed over, the cow is well fed), but we figured that was partially because no one wants to eat when it's in the 90s or the 100s. What an effort!
But as we headed up the lane Phil has created for the cows to access each day's pasture,
the cows followed us, one by one.
Yesterday's paddock was the first to have a good amount of grazing material. Phil was quite pleased: the ground looks just like Greg Judy's (well, probably a little more sparse). The animals broke up the surface, trampled down some of the forage, where it will build organic matter and support the microbes in the soil.
Just in case you didn't get a good enough view of hard-working Phil's physique, I'll enlarge it for you. He has a very different build now than he did two years ago!
Joe helped us string line for the new paddock. It took a long time, and we were all dripping sweat. I was surprised to see one of the two-year-old heifers eat some oak leaves. Mostly the cows leave the oaks alone, but she must have needed some tannins to detoxify.
In the new paddock, the cows get to enjoy field peas. Phil tried one and said it as good. Overall, the peas are about done for the season, turning yellow and finishing seed.
We also have rye grass and triticale. Joe is standing in a patch of some grasses. Not happily, since the grasses itch and the occasional wild raspberry scratches his ankles, but he is standing still and not making ugly faces at the camera, preferring to pretend this whole unpleasant experience is not really happening.
There is a fairly distinct line between where the cows have eaten, and where they have yet to eat.
We are fencing out the chestnuts: about a foot away on one side, and when we set the new line, we do it a food away on the other. Phil was surprised today to see a chestnut that looked dead with lush green growth springing out the bottom.
I had to head back with boys desperate to get out of the heat, bugs, and grasses, so I missed the actual joyful entrance of the cows into their new pen, but I'm sure they were happy.
Milking in the evening went ever so much better. I was not in a hurry; three of Fern's quarters felt like they had been nursed, at least a bit, and although she didn't let down as much as she could have (ahem), she did give me a quart of milk. And I'll take a nursed baby, no fear for my life and well-being, and a quart of milk, over the stressful rigmarole of yesterday, thank you very much.
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