Well...
as some of you know I've graduated with my BSc in Biology from Ambrose
University and am now returned to the Fraser Valley to try my hand at
dairy farming.
And, well... seeing as how I've barely even set foot on a farm before, I thought it might be amusing to explore with you my findings and experiences as a complete novice dairy farmer. (*inserting disclaimer*: to all you of my friends who are farmers or much more familiar with farms... I'm sorry if I butcher my explanations, but bear with me and I'm sure I'll join you in laughing at myself in the months to come).
So... day one. I arrive about 10 minutes early and seek out the first person I can find to direct me to where I'm suppose to be. Turns out the person I find is the boss of the farm (I do not realize this until about an hour later when someone tells me). I tell him I'm looking for someone and he informs me that the person I'm seeking should be there shortly. The boss-man asks me if I'm still in school. I tell him I've graduated. He asks what I'm doing at this farm and I explain my desire to go on in agriculture and how I thought dairy farming would be a good beginning. He looks a little incredulous at me and informs me that I'll be getting dirty. I reply that I'm OK with that (boy, did I not realize how dirty I'd get!). It seems that he gives a figurative snort and says, "Well, as long as your eager." I realize at this point that he does not hold out much hope for me in surviving at the farm. I aimed to prove him wrong.
First up, I head out to the maze of gates and stalls to arrange the gates in such a way as to herd the cows towards the milking area. It's a complete puzzle and I get completely lost as my trainer-person (let's call him J) opens and closes gates and directs me to do the same. I stumble along with my mouth [probably] agape and do as he bids. Then, we begin tidyng up the cow beds and stepping in giant mud pies (*hint... not actually made of mud... nor edible like a pie)-yes I'm incredibly grateful for my $5 thrift store gum boots that do not leak! We prod the lazy cows that don't want to get up and manuever ourselves around the plodding animals.
I'm warned not to "hang out" around the rear ends of the cows since their defecation and mictorating may spew. This makes me nervous and suddenly all the cows are turning their rears toward me. But! I don't panic. Sure, being covered in poo is not all that appealing to me, but appearing agitated and grossed-out are less appealing and I try to put on a good face and dance around to the cows' sides as much as possible.
The beds are already elevated off the floor slightly and all the poop is scooped to the floor. There is a lot of poop. A lot. Tons. Everywhere. Yup.
So, once all the cows have been herded to the section before the milking station, gates are reclosed and opened and moved around and Heidi starts feeling dizzy from so many gates. She is sure she will somehow open the wrong one and send all the cows galavanting through the hay fields and along the road. Fortunately she only does what J tells her to.
Then comes the most confusing part, involving the walking up and down a hallway, pushing certain buttons and moving tubes here and there. To make it more stressful if the buttons and tubes aren't moved just right, in their correct timing, a extraordinarily loud alarm will sound (no it didn't go off while I was there... I just heard stories). I suppose that's fair... if it isn't done right we may end up sending the milk spewing sky-high and all over the rooms. I brought a notepad on my second day to get the order straight... I still think it'll take me a while to get.
Then... to the milking!! I actually found this part quite intriguing. The cattle are all herded, one by one into little stalls on this giant, turning, wheel-thing. You remember those old spinning things in playgrounds once-upon-a-time, that you'd climb on with your friends and dad would grab one of the bars and run around pushing you faster and faster until you were so dizzy and nauseated? It was sort of like that, but, it turned very slowly, carried about 50 cows and stood at about stomach-height.
There were these crazy, futuristic-looking things that acted like milk vacuums. You grabbed it, turned it on and stuffed them on the cow's udder. You did this over and over and over... and over... and over. Even when the cows lifted their leg and aimed their hooves at your eyes. Generally they were OK, though. The cows would start lifting their legs, alternating left and right, as if they were doing the pee-dance. You'd stuff the machine on and hurry to the next cow. There were about 200-some odd cows. After about 50 I began thinking that boss-man may have been right in doubting my ability to stick this through.
Seeing as how I was at hoof/leg level and the ground (where those hooves/legs walked) was generally littered with feces, the feces transfered to my arms and torso and pants and... well... yes, my face was not left out. Despite my belief that I have an iron stomach and am not easily disgusted, I was made a little queasy at moments.
I began wondering if the line of cows would ever end. At long last it did end. Wow, I thought... don't think I want to do that again.
Turns out that was only group one. There are two groups. So, back to opening and closing gates. At this point I gave up trying to understand the maze of paths and gates and just followed blindly as J directed me. We cleaned up beds again, herded cattle again and milked again. There were less than half the cows in group two as in group one, so it went a lot faster than I expected and then it was time for clean up. I understood completely then why milkers get paid so well. What a ton of hard work they have to do!
Again, there was a confusing walk up and down that hallway, pushing buttons and moving tubes. I declined trying to memorize what to do and just stumbled along, doing what I was told to. Then, we got to use hoses and spray all the poop and whatnot away. I enjoyed that part. I kind of wanted to start a water fight, but it was about 10:30pm and was a little too cold for it to be fun to be drenched. Laundry was taken to the washing machine and my clomping boots finally led me to my truck and I headed home.... exhausted.
Day two: day two was better than day one. The moving gates made much more sense and the crazy button-pushing began to make more sense, too. The cows seemed more curious, too. "Hello, new person," they said, tentatively pushing their giant noses closer to take a sniff of me. One even licked my glove, but, seeing as how my glove was covered in spots of the cow's own excrement, I don't think she was too pleased with the taste. I managed to scratch one cow's head and another only seemed to want to stare at me and had no interest in relieving her over-sized udder at the milking machines while I stood behind her. I was much faster at the milking part and managed to sneak in some happy whistling. I think I'll survive. I think I'll show up that boss-man and in a few months he'll talk with me and say, "You know, I never thought you'd actually make it." and I'll say, "I know. Showed you, didn't I!? Ahahaha" Well, perhaps I won't say that exactly... but I'll probably be thinking that as I chuckle politely and say, "Ya, I had my doubts, too."
So, now after two four-hour shifts, I think my expectations of dairy farming are a little more realistic, I'm excited to see where this opportunity is going to take me and my deltoid, trapezius and bicep muscles have never been so sore in my life. Oh! and Grace, this is for you: I've come home each night wanting to shower and have done so. :P haha...ya, OK.
Well, signing off for now... and for all you non-farming folk, I hope this was enlightening and entertaining enough. :) And for all you folk.... hasta la vista!
And, well... seeing as how I've barely even set foot on a farm before, I thought it might be amusing to explore with you my findings and experiences as a complete novice dairy farmer. (*inserting disclaimer*: to all you of my friends who are farmers or much more familiar with farms... I'm sorry if I butcher my explanations, but bear with me and I'm sure I'll join you in laughing at myself in the months to come).
So... day one. I arrive about 10 minutes early and seek out the first person I can find to direct me to where I'm suppose to be. Turns out the person I find is the boss of the farm (I do not realize this until about an hour later when someone tells me). I tell him I'm looking for someone and he informs me that the person I'm seeking should be there shortly. The boss-man asks me if I'm still in school. I tell him I've graduated. He asks what I'm doing at this farm and I explain my desire to go on in agriculture and how I thought dairy farming would be a good beginning. He looks a little incredulous at me and informs me that I'll be getting dirty. I reply that I'm OK with that (boy, did I not realize how dirty I'd get!). It seems that he gives a figurative snort and says, "Well, as long as your eager." I realize at this point that he does not hold out much hope for me in surviving at the farm. I aimed to prove him wrong.
First up, I head out to the maze of gates and stalls to arrange the gates in such a way as to herd the cows towards the milking area. It's a complete puzzle and I get completely lost as my trainer-person (let's call him J) opens and closes gates and directs me to do the same. I stumble along with my mouth [probably] agape and do as he bids. Then, we begin tidyng up the cow beds and stepping in giant mud pies (*hint... not actually made of mud... nor edible like a pie)-yes I'm incredibly grateful for my $5 thrift store gum boots that do not leak! We prod the lazy cows that don't want to get up and manuever ourselves around the plodding animals.
I'm warned not to "hang out" around the rear ends of the cows since their defecation and mictorating may spew. This makes me nervous and suddenly all the cows are turning their rears toward me. But! I don't panic. Sure, being covered in poo is not all that appealing to me, but appearing agitated and grossed-out are less appealing and I try to put on a good face and dance around to the cows' sides as much as possible.
The beds are already elevated off the floor slightly and all the poop is scooped to the floor. There is a lot of poop. A lot. Tons. Everywhere. Yup.
So, once all the cows have been herded to the section before the milking station, gates are reclosed and opened and moved around and Heidi starts feeling dizzy from so many gates. She is sure she will somehow open the wrong one and send all the cows galavanting through the hay fields and along the road. Fortunately she only does what J tells her to.
Then comes the most confusing part, involving the walking up and down a hallway, pushing certain buttons and moving tubes here and there. To make it more stressful if the buttons and tubes aren't moved just right, in their correct timing, a extraordinarily loud alarm will sound (no it didn't go off while I was there... I just heard stories). I suppose that's fair... if it isn't done right we may end up sending the milk spewing sky-high and all over the rooms. I brought a notepad on my second day to get the order straight... I still think it'll take me a while to get.
Then... to the milking!! I actually found this part quite intriguing. The cattle are all herded, one by one into little stalls on this giant, turning, wheel-thing. You remember those old spinning things in playgrounds once-upon-a-time, that you'd climb on with your friends and dad would grab one of the bars and run around pushing you faster and faster until you were so dizzy and nauseated? It was sort of like that, but, it turned very slowly, carried about 50 cows and stood at about stomach-height.
There were these crazy, futuristic-looking things that acted like milk vacuums. You grabbed it, turned it on and stuffed them on the cow's udder. You did this over and over and over... and over... and over. Even when the cows lifted their leg and aimed their hooves at your eyes. Generally they were OK, though. The cows would start lifting their legs, alternating left and right, as if they were doing the pee-dance. You'd stuff the machine on and hurry to the next cow. There were about 200-some odd cows. After about 50 I began thinking that boss-man may have been right in doubting my ability to stick this through.
Seeing as how I was at hoof/leg level and the ground (where those hooves/legs walked) was generally littered with feces, the feces transfered to my arms and torso and pants and... well... yes, my face was not left out. Despite my belief that I have an iron stomach and am not easily disgusted, I was made a little queasy at moments.
I began wondering if the line of cows would ever end. At long last it did end. Wow, I thought... don't think I want to do that again.
Turns out that was only group one. There are two groups. So, back to opening and closing gates. At this point I gave up trying to understand the maze of paths and gates and just followed blindly as J directed me. We cleaned up beds again, herded cattle again and milked again. There were less than half the cows in group two as in group one, so it went a lot faster than I expected and then it was time for clean up. I understood completely then why milkers get paid so well. What a ton of hard work they have to do!
Again, there was a confusing walk up and down that hallway, pushing buttons and moving tubes. I declined trying to memorize what to do and just stumbled along, doing what I was told to. Then, we got to use hoses and spray all the poop and whatnot away. I enjoyed that part. I kind of wanted to start a water fight, but it was about 10:30pm and was a little too cold for it to be fun to be drenched. Laundry was taken to the washing machine and my clomping boots finally led me to my truck and I headed home.... exhausted.
Day two: day two was better than day one. The moving gates made much more sense and the crazy button-pushing began to make more sense, too. The cows seemed more curious, too. "Hello, new person," they said, tentatively pushing their giant noses closer to take a sniff of me. One even licked my glove, but, seeing as how my glove was covered in spots of the cow's own excrement, I don't think she was too pleased with the taste. I managed to scratch one cow's head and another only seemed to want to stare at me and had no interest in relieving her over-sized udder at the milking machines while I stood behind her. I was much faster at the milking part and managed to sneak in some happy whistling. I think I'll survive. I think I'll show up that boss-man and in a few months he'll talk with me and say, "You know, I never thought you'd actually make it." and I'll say, "I know. Showed you, didn't I!? Ahahaha" Well, perhaps I won't say that exactly... but I'll probably be thinking that as I chuckle politely and say, "Ya, I had my doubts, too."
So, now after two four-hour shifts, I think my expectations of dairy farming are a little more realistic, I'm excited to see where this opportunity is going to take me and my deltoid, trapezius and bicep muscles have never been so sore in my life. Oh! and Grace, this is for you: I've come home each night wanting to shower and have done so. :P haha...ya, OK.
Well, signing off for now... and for all you non-farming folk, I hope this was enlightening and entertaining enough. :) And for all you folk.... hasta la vista!
