Field Trip

Once upon a time there was a young girl who lived in the country.  She grew up among fields and farms, dairies and cows.  After many years of growing, the girl moved away.


Then, one June day, her Monte (see: dad) sent her all the pictures he had taken of cows up the hill from her childhood home.  The now grown-up girl begged her Monte to take her to see the sweet cows (which she had ignored her whole young life).  He, being the kind (if not somewhat cantankerous) father he was, obliged.  Saying only one point of caution.

"You'd better bring your boots."

Now, this post may be dull to those of you who blog (or like to read the blogs) about storm chasers, haute cuisine, or extreme sports.  But yesterday I had the BEST time at the organic dairy up the street from my parent's house visiting the most adorable cows on the planet.

These Jersey Cows (just like the one in Anne of Avonlea that ruins Rachel Lynde's prize winning cabbages) are not for eating (no matter what my husband tells you).  These are special milk cows, used for their higher fat content to make ice cream and butter.
   

They are also the most curious creatures.  

I walked to the gate and they all just kind of raised their heads and sauntered over closer.  

Who are you?  Can we lick you?

  These cows are raised on an organic dairy.  Which basically means none of the cows are treated with antibiotics.  This is quite a feat when you have hundreds of cows.  Hundreds of freakin' adorable cows.  Who were, in case anyone is wondering, just as soft as I expected them to be.

They were interested in my coat and boots. 

It took a while of standing still and cooing at the cows to get them to come close enough for me to touch.  They weren't scared at all, just wary.  But any quick movement by me was rippled in their many feet.  


This is Dora.  Ok, so I made up her name, whatever.  But "Here, 570, here girl." wasn't cutting it when I was coaxing her over.

This sweet girl was my most favorite.

 What the pictures don't show is just how big these cows were.  Driving past them on the road doesn't show it either.  They were huge.  The ones giving birth were even bigger and angrier, but you'd be huffy too if just after you birthed a calf you were ushered (see: chased) down the street to the main dairy.  Gentle and gigantic.

Want out please.

Ok, now to the super-de-duper cute part of the post.  Oh man, you will throw up cuteness for a week after seeing these little guys.  If it's too cute for you, here are some manly trucks. 

These cows are just born.  

They live in these cow condos to keep them extra warm until they are about two months old.  Then they move into the barn.   

Monte in the background, laughing at his daughter.

 As babies, they were much more jumpy than the old girls.  You so much as turn your head quick and they are back in their houses.  The one below never came out.  He was surly.  I would be too if all the other cows were fawn colored and I was polka-dotted.

This was the odd duck.

One day old.

 This one is my baby favorite.  Newdora.  She wasn't scared of me at all.  Licked my hand, let me pet her.  I would have made it off the farm with her if not for my dad giving me the dad look.

 I was a farmer in another life.  The houses, the boots, the people, the cows. . . I love them so.  For now I will have to settle with making best friends with the farmers up the hill and visiting their livestock whenever I go home.

Time to go now.