Beech Tree News Network

 “What’s the matter, Woody?” Chloe asked. “Why are you cowered in the floorboard of the truck?”

“Are you scared of that bull in the field,” Mr. Tom asked. I nodded, but he said, “That bull’s in the pen and couldn’t get you if he tried.”

I wanted to believe Mr. Tom, but I’d seen bulls when we traveled to watch Murray State University’s rodeo team compete. Mom was excited that her alma mater was one of less than 15 colleges and universities in the Ozark Region with a rodeo team. I covered my eyes since I was too afraid to watch bulls throw folks off their backs. I had also seen on TV where people in other countries waved a red cape in front of the bull that made the bulls go crazy!

“Bulls are born with the innate ability to buck and kick, but rodeo riders use techniques to encourage bulls to buck,” Mr. Tom explained, coaxing me from the floorboard. “Besides, wouldn’t you buck and kick if someone were on top of you?” With that, I emerged from the floorboard and took my seat just in time to see an older couple sitting in a swing on the porch of a beautiful old farmhouse that was white with black shutters.

“Whoa, doggies,” a sweet older man wearing a long-sleeve plaid shirt and straw hat said as he walked to the car. “You must be Woodsey and Closey,” he said, making us both giggle.

“I’m Woody and this is my brother, Chloe – I mean my sister, Chloe,” I said, making everyone giggle more.

“We’re the Wades. I’m Hollis and this is my bride of 52 years, Anna. Most folks ’round here just call us Granny and Pa.”

“How would you pups like some fresh baked bread with jam and cold milk?” Granny asked, making our mouths water. Closey, uh, Chloe and I already felt at home, making it easier to say goodbye to Mr. Tom.

“This is the most delicious milk ever,” Chloe told Granny as we ate our snack.

“It’s so rich and creamy,” I added, hoping Granny would offer me more.

“It’s because it’s fresh,” Pa explained while Granny refilled my glass.

“You mean you just bought it?” I asked, remembering to wipe my “milkstache.”

“This didn’t come from a store, son. This came straight from Patty – that ol’ Holstein you saw when you pulled in,” Pa said.

“You mean that bull?” I asked, making Pa and Granny look at each other and laugh aloud.

“Finish your snack and I’ll show you around,” Pa said.

Walking from the house to the barns, Pa told us about dairy farming in Kentucky. “Based on your comment about milk coming from a bull, I take it you aren’t familiar with dairy farming,” he said. “I’ll start at the beginning. Dairy farming is the process of harvesting milk from female cows – and sometimes goats and sheep too. Here in Kentucky, there are about 900 licensed dairy farms with approximately 70,000 milk cows. The most popular milk cow is the Holstein followed by the Jersey cow. See the black and white cow over yonder?” Pa asked, pointing up ahead. “That’s a Holstein. And that brown cow with a white muzzle and black nose is our Jersey cow.”

“What’s that big brown cow with the fuzzy ears?” Chloe asked.

“That’s our Brown Swiss,” Granny said.

“This is our milking barn,” Pa continued. “We milk every morning and every night. It takes about three to five minutes per cow to get all her milk. Each cow produces about 6 gallons a day. Kentucky ranks 27th in milk production.”

“Why do you have all these big machines?” Chloe asked Pa.

“It’s how we milk.”

“I thought you used your paws, uh, I mean hands,” I said.

“We did before all this new equipment came about.  Would you doggies like to milk a cow?”

After making sure our paws, the bucket, the cow and everything in between were clean, we were ready. Chloe sat on a milking stool underneath Gertie the Jersey cow while I sat on an upside-down bucket milking Bonnie the Brown Swiss. Following instructions, we kept a bucket between our knees and gently squeezed the udders of the cows. Before we knew it, we heard milk hitting our buckets. I felt something move across my leg. It was the gray kitty I’d seen earlier.

“Go ahead and give Bunny a drink,” Pa said, referring to the cat. I was getting ready to hand my bucket to Bunny when Pa said, “Just squirt Bunny with the udder.” Obeying, I squirted Bunny, and she lapped the milk right from the cow’s udder.

Seeing the milk, I was surprised and even more horrified as I looked in my bucket. I had made a major mistake and didn’t know how I was going to tell Granny and Pa!