As I go about our work on the farm, I talk to the animals. Many times, hearing our voice soothes them and also gets them to where we want them to go, keeping everybody on the same page. Once in a while we have to holler at them because let’s face it, animals can be awfully stubborn and try our patience. I’ve found, however, that if we remain calm and don’t become agitated, they are calmer and more apt to cooperate.
We have a set routine that the cows follow every single day. They are creatures of habit and feel most comfortable when they understand what’s expected and when. My husband gets out to the barn first in the morning and feeds them their grain before he lets them in. They hear the gate open and come moseying in. He secures each cow in its own stall and then starts milking.
My husband is almost half done milking before I make my arrival. First thing, I scrape the barn aisle, then tackle the calf pens — all the while talking to my calves, getting them to move aside, making room for me to get into the corners, along the sides of the pen and down the middle, cleaning everything and then bedding them down. They get fed dry hay and once in a while, I scratch their heads in passing as they munch.
My morning continues with feeding the calves on milk next. Hearing the pail handle rattle, (it’s my way of letting them know breakfast is ready!) they come running. After the pigs left last year, I waited for the area to dry down and then scraped it clean. My husband dumped a bucket load of dry, white sawdust in the back of this outside pen, and it is the perfect place to raise a couple of calves for a bit.
At the present time, we have four baby calves housed in there. We laughingly call it our calf barn. The mommas to these calves all gave birth outside in the cow yard, two on the same day. Before night milking my husband, using the skid-steer loader, hauled the two born in one day into the pen in the bucket. He needed my help because they were frisky (or scared) and didn’t want to stay put. I ended up driving while husband sat in the bucket with the calves, an arm around each one, holding them tightly.
The next morning I greeted my little herd: “You hungry?” as I poured their milk into the bottle, each one in turn. As I fed them I looked out toward our adjacent fields, a serene view. I watched a flock of turkeys about 70 yards away. One tom was fanned out and strutting around like he was king of the harem, which he probably was. Just past them a few deer were grazing. I heard the day waking up all around me and I had one of those God moments, grateful for where I was and just what I was doing right then. Looking out at the creative beauty of the morning, I realized this splendor is just a drop of milk in my pail compared to what is waiting for us in heaven.
After taking care of all the calves I head out to feed heifers in the heifer barn, carting a couple of scoops of feed over with the skid steer, and shoving in any leftover feed with my shovel. As I push their feed in I talk to them out there, too, getting them used to me being in front of their face, because soon enough they’ll be in the milking lineup and I’ll be tying them up in their stanchion in the barn. That doesn’t take me long before I’m back inside. By that time my husband is done milking, and I start washing up milkers and tidying up the milkhouse while he fills the cow wagon.
Together we let cows out and we are both coaxing them along, “Get up!” “Get going!” “Get outta here!” Occasionally we ask them questions, “What do you think you’re doing?” or “How’d you get yourself in there?” or “Is that where you belong?” They never answer.
Soon enough everyone is outside eating their breakfast. After scraping everything up, spreading lime on the floor and feeding one more bale of dry hay to the inside calves, we turn the lights out and head into the house for our own breakfast … all the while talking to each other.
(“A lazy life is an empty life, but ‘early to rise’ gets the job done.” Proverbs 12:27, The Message Bible)
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