Post by Shalali on Oct 31, 2012 8:59:51 GMT -5
Here is an essay I turned in for my English 101 class. I got a 99% on it
Shalali Infante
Erin Radcliffe
ENG 1101, Section 126
October 22, 2012
Sally Josephine Wilder, the Wonder Cow
There is new trend of having a backyard family milk cow, and there is a modern milkmaid to go with that cow. She may be a stay-at-home mother or have a full-time job. Students (high school and college), grandmothers, singles, couples, gays and lesbians, doctors, lawyers, cashiers, and people from all walks of life are becoming this new milkmaid. In fact, the contemporary milkmaid is sometimes male.
A family milk cow is a thesis in commitment. She did not ask to be a family milk cow, and she must be taken care of. This means feeding, watering, and mucking daily, 365 days a year. This also means milking her up to twice a day. Her need to be milked does not care if her milkmaid is having a bad day, is sick, is out of town, is running errands; basically there is no excuse that she would understand. Hay has to be hauled and stored. Pastures are irrigated and maintained for grazing. The cow’s health is the responsibility of her milkmaid. Lots of ailments are attended to by the milkmaid, but sometimes veterinarians have to be brought in and paid. For this commitment from her milkmaid, she gives herself.
The family milk cow is a cornucopia of gifts: her milk, her calves, her manure, and her cooperation. Her milk is a treasure trove of nourishment for the family. So many things come from her milk — hard cheeses, butter, feed for other farm animals, and just a glass to drink. Her calves can have many uses. A newborn calf under a week old that has been fed nothing but milk can be butchered for veal, and its stomach used to produce rennet for cheese making for many, many years. Heifer calves (females) can be raised as family milk cows and sold to bring in additional cash. Calves can also be fed to adulthood and butchered for meat for the family. This backyard cow also produces fertilizer by the hundred pounds per week. This is a great gift for the garden. Composted, straight, or made into teas, the manure is very valuable for growing vegetables. The most amazing thing she gives is her willing participation. She will come in to be milked every day. If her milkmaid is late, she will be waiting. She lets down her milk and gives it freely. She stands still whilst being milked. The routine of her life is something she thrives in and counts on.
Sally Josephine Wilder is such a family milk cow. She is an old-world miniature Jersey. She also happens to be the world’s most amazing, beautiful, sweetest, perfect back yard family milk cow, ever. Her face is dark fading to light. She has a creamy golden ring around her sweet nose. Her large round eyes look at you with the question, “Are you here to give me a treat?” She has the classic Jersey moon-dip to her face. The fronts of her legs are black and the backs are cream. In the summer, her coat fades to a blond and in the winter is a deeper light brown. Her ears perk up and twist in different directions as she listens. When her name is called, she will look up. Whether she comes or not is something she decides. She is a windfall apple junkie and will barge through anything or anyone to get to her apples. She becomes single-minded and has glazed eyes when eating a bucket of sliced apples. She was brought from Virginia to New Mexico six years ago and became the cow I adore within a few minutes of our introduction.
Milking time is my favorite time with Sally. When she hears the call, “Sall-eeeeeeeee,” she will look up from the feeder, back out, and amble over to the milking parlor. Once inside, she wants to know where her treats are (apples, pears, or carrots). She gobbles up her treats quickly; I have to watch out that my fingers do not join the apples. With a simple loop of rope over her neck, she stands to be milked. I brush Sally down and ask how her night was. I wash her udder with warm water and clean rags, and tell her about my plans for the day. I rub udder butter into my palms to keep friction at bay while I milk. Sally’s flank is the perfect resting place for my head as I get into the rhythm of squeezing milk into the bucket. Steam from the sweet smelling, creamy liquid wafts over my face as I fill the bucket with milk using my hands, made strong from milking this amazing girl. The sunlight sneaking through spaces between the contracted wall boards grabs the dusty air and lines her body. Most of the time my eyes are closed as I become one with Sally, inhaling her delicious cow musk mixed with the aroma of her sweet milk. As I milk her, she is flooded with an oxytocin high. She stands, eyes adrift, drool stringing to the ground, enjoying the release. Sometimes, she will twist back and give my head a cow lick of appreciation. When the milk stops flowing, I check each of Sally’s quarters to make sure her udder is completely empty so she does not get mastitis. Then, Sally is untied, thanked for her milk, hugged, kissed on the nose, and turned back out into the barnyard to return to her breakfast. I remind her that I will see her again soon for afternoon milking, but she already knows that.
Sally is also perfection in her ornery side as well. A few times she has stepped perfectly into the milk bucket without knocking against the sides as she plunged her hoof all the way to the bottom. With 340-degree vision, she knew exactly where she was placing her foot. If offended, she may decide that she does not want to come into be milked and will have to be led to the parlor. Sometimes when she is out on pasture and she does not want to come back to the barnyard, she has been known to cavort like a frolicking calf, kicking up her hind legs and running in fast circles as she races away. Seeing a mature cow bucking around with a swinging and swaying udder acting like a six-month-old is quite amusing.
Sally has given so many gifts to my family. We have gotten milk for six years. One of her bull calves was steered (castrated), raised for 18 months, and filled our freezer with beef. Her heifer calves have been sold and the income used for the farm. She has provided my soul with solace and structured my days with purpose and routine.
What can be made from Sally’s milk still fills me with awe and wonder. When her milk is chilled, the cream separates and rises to the top. This is skimmed to make butter and buttermilk, cream for coffee, ice-cream, sour cream, crème fraiche, or cream cheese. I use her skimmed milk to make clabber (cultured skimmed milk). The clabber is a basis for many further cheese products: I will make soft cheese spreads spiced with green chile, dried tomatoes and basil, or fruit and honey; we sometimes eat clabber in place of yogurt (it has a similar texture and taste); cottage cheese and mozzarella are also made from this; clabber supplements the feed for the hogs and the chickens as well. From her whole-milk, I make farm-house cheddar cheese, kefir, and yogurt. Of course, we enjoy just drinking it too.
I have been milking and caring for Sally Josephine Wilder every day for the past six years. I still have a moment, when I see her for the first time every morning, that my heart catches and joy fills me as I gaze at this amazingly beautiful creature and realize: I am the lucky milkmaid honored to care for her.
Shalali Infante
Erin Radcliffe
ENG 1101, Section 126
October 22, 2012
Sally Josephine Wilder, the Wonder Cow
There is new trend of having a backyard family milk cow, and there is a modern milkmaid to go with that cow. She may be a stay-at-home mother or have a full-time job. Students (high school and college), grandmothers, singles, couples, gays and lesbians, doctors, lawyers, cashiers, and people from all walks of life are becoming this new milkmaid. In fact, the contemporary milkmaid is sometimes male.
A family milk cow is a thesis in commitment. She did not ask to be a family milk cow, and she must be taken care of. This means feeding, watering, and mucking daily, 365 days a year. This also means milking her up to twice a day. Her need to be milked does not care if her milkmaid is having a bad day, is sick, is out of town, is running errands; basically there is no excuse that she would understand. Hay has to be hauled and stored. Pastures are irrigated and maintained for grazing. The cow’s health is the responsibility of her milkmaid. Lots of ailments are attended to by the milkmaid, but sometimes veterinarians have to be brought in and paid. For this commitment from her milkmaid, she gives herself.
The family milk cow is a cornucopia of gifts: her milk, her calves, her manure, and her cooperation. Her milk is a treasure trove of nourishment for the family. So many things come from her milk — hard cheeses, butter, feed for other farm animals, and just a glass to drink. Her calves can have many uses. A newborn calf under a week old that has been fed nothing but milk can be butchered for veal, and its stomach used to produce rennet for cheese making for many, many years. Heifer calves (females) can be raised as family milk cows and sold to bring in additional cash. Calves can also be fed to adulthood and butchered for meat for the family. This backyard cow also produces fertilizer by the hundred pounds per week. This is a great gift for the garden. Composted, straight, or made into teas, the manure is very valuable for growing vegetables. The most amazing thing she gives is her willing participation. She will come in to be milked every day. If her milkmaid is late, she will be waiting. She lets down her milk and gives it freely. She stands still whilst being milked. The routine of her life is something she thrives in and counts on.
Sally Josephine Wilder is such a family milk cow. She is an old-world miniature Jersey. She also happens to be the world’s most amazing, beautiful, sweetest, perfect back yard family milk cow, ever. Her face is dark fading to light. She has a creamy golden ring around her sweet nose. Her large round eyes look at you with the question, “Are you here to give me a treat?” She has the classic Jersey moon-dip to her face. The fronts of her legs are black and the backs are cream. In the summer, her coat fades to a blond and in the winter is a deeper light brown. Her ears perk up and twist in different directions as she listens. When her name is called, she will look up. Whether she comes or not is something she decides. She is a windfall apple junkie and will barge through anything or anyone to get to her apples. She becomes single-minded and has glazed eyes when eating a bucket of sliced apples. She was brought from Virginia to New Mexico six years ago and became the cow I adore within a few minutes of our introduction.
Milking time is my favorite time with Sally. When she hears the call, “Sall-eeeeeeeee,” she will look up from the feeder, back out, and amble over to the milking parlor. Once inside, she wants to know where her treats are (apples, pears, or carrots). She gobbles up her treats quickly; I have to watch out that my fingers do not join the apples. With a simple loop of rope over her neck, she stands to be milked. I brush Sally down and ask how her night was. I wash her udder with warm water and clean rags, and tell her about my plans for the day. I rub udder butter into my palms to keep friction at bay while I milk. Sally’s flank is the perfect resting place for my head as I get into the rhythm of squeezing milk into the bucket. Steam from the sweet smelling, creamy liquid wafts over my face as I fill the bucket with milk using my hands, made strong from milking this amazing girl. The sunlight sneaking through spaces between the contracted wall boards grabs the dusty air and lines her body. Most of the time my eyes are closed as I become one with Sally, inhaling her delicious cow musk mixed with the aroma of her sweet milk. As I milk her, she is flooded with an oxytocin high. She stands, eyes adrift, drool stringing to the ground, enjoying the release. Sometimes, she will twist back and give my head a cow lick of appreciation. When the milk stops flowing, I check each of Sally’s quarters to make sure her udder is completely empty so she does not get mastitis. Then, Sally is untied, thanked for her milk, hugged, kissed on the nose, and turned back out into the barnyard to return to her breakfast. I remind her that I will see her again soon for afternoon milking, but she already knows that.
Sally is also perfection in her ornery side as well. A few times she has stepped perfectly into the milk bucket without knocking against the sides as she plunged her hoof all the way to the bottom. With 340-degree vision, she knew exactly where she was placing her foot. If offended, she may decide that she does not want to come into be milked and will have to be led to the parlor. Sometimes when she is out on pasture and she does not want to come back to the barnyard, she has been known to cavort like a frolicking calf, kicking up her hind legs and running in fast circles as she races away. Seeing a mature cow bucking around with a swinging and swaying udder acting like a six-month-old is quite amusing.
Sally has given so many gifts to my family. We have gotten milk for six years. One of her bull calves was steered (castrated), raised for 18 months, and filled our freezer with beef. Her heifer calves have been sold and the income used for the farm. She has provided my soul with solace and structured my days with purpose and routine.
What can be made from Sally’s milk still fills me with awe and wonder. When her milk is chilled, the cream separates and rises to the top. This is skimmed to make butter and buttermilk, cream for coffee, ice-cream, sour cream, crème fraiche, or cream cheese. I use her skimmed milk to make clabber (cultured skimmed milk). The clabber is a basis for many further cheese products: I will make soft cheese spreads spiced with green chile, dried tomatoes and basil, or fruit and honey; we sometimes eat clabber in place of yogurt (it has a similar texture and taste); cottage cheese and mozzarella are also made from this; clabber supplements the feed for the hogs and the chickens as well. From her whole-milk, I make farm-house cheddar cheese, kefir, and yogurt. Of course, we enjoy just drinking it too.
I have been milking and caring for Sally Josephine Wilder every day for the past six years. I still have a moment, when I see her for the first time every morning, that my heart catches and joy fills me as I gaze at this amazingly beautiful creature and realize: I am the lucky milkmaid honored to care for her.