From Farm To Fridge: A Day With The Dairy Cows

As a mom, I always worry about making sure what my kids eat is as fresh and healthy as possible. I want as few additives as possible in their foods, and I don’t want to worry that something they eat or drink may not be safe for them. Of course we don’t allow artificial dyes due to Cordy’s sensitivity to them, but even foods that are natural still get my scrutiny.

Milk and cheese are a large part of my family’s diet. Aside from water (which is the preferred drink for just thirst), milk is one of the best options when my kids want something to drink: it’s filling thanks to natural protein and fats, it has no additives other than Vitamin D, and it provides calcium and vitamins to help them grow. Compared to juice, soda (which our kids don’t drink), or milk-like and juice-like drinks (which are really mostly sugar), milk really is the nutritional winner.

(Unless you’re allergic to milk. Then by all means ignore my praise of milk for your own diet.)

But even something as simple as milk isn’t without controversy. Antibiotics, hormones, animal treatment, organic vs. regular, alternative milks such as soy or almond…there’s a lot to know about milk. I’ll admit I’m not as well informed as I could be about how milk gets from the cow to the table.

When I think of dairy cows, I generally think of the stories from my mom and my grandmother and the farm my mom grew up on.

photos of my grandfather (who died just before I was born) and his cows
They had a small herd of Jersey dairy cows and my mother remembers having to help milk the cows every day. Back then, it was milking by hand – very time and labor intensive. They had their milk directly from the source, without any time or handling between cow and table. They didn’t have indoor plumbing, either, but that’s a story for another day.

Milking cows has come a long way since the early 1950’s, and I dare say it’s much safer for all involved, too. (The farmer, the cow, and the consumer.) Last month I was part of a small group of bloggers who visited two north-eastern Ohio dairy farms – one smaller, one larger – to see just what’s involved in getting the milk we pour on our cereal each morning, and I was honestly surprised how much I did not know about dairy farming in Ohio.

The first stop was Richman Farms, a family-owned dairy farm that milks 80 cows twice a day. They have three different types of dairy cows: Holsteins (the most popular nowadays), Brown Swiss, and Jerseys. Jerseys produce milk with a higher fat content, but they’re smaller cows, producing less milk overall, and so aren’t as popular.


Who can resist that sweet face?

Even for the smaller farmers, milking by hand isn’t done anymore. It’s too time consuming and there’s too great a risk of contamination. Instead, the cows go into a milking room, where their udders are cleaned (for your safety and to help prevent mastitis in the cow), and then the milking equipment is applied to their udders. All milk is sent through a closed system to a storage unit, never once touched by human hands. This farm sends all of its milk to Smith’s, a local milk producer.


The milking room – cows up high, people down below.

The milking machine monitors the amount of milk coming through the tube, and when the amount slows to a certain point, the machine disengages. (No sore udders here!)


I tried milking by hand, too – not as easy as you’d think!

After milking, the cows wander back out to the barn to eat. Each cow eats between 80-90 pounds of grass, alfalfa and grain each day, and drinks about a bathtub’s worth of water. That’s a lot of food, but any nursing mother would tell you that you need plenty of food and water to produce milk.

Richman Farms was a great introduction, and the cows looked pretty spoiled there. When the weather is warmer they open the sides of the barn to let in plenty of fresh air, and if it gets too warm they turn on fans to keep them cool. In the winter they close the sides of the barn to keep the cows warm and comfortable.

I wondered if a larger farm would have different standards for their animals. After all, 80 cows are pretty easy to spoil – but what about 1500 cows?

To answer that question, we traveled to Andreas Dairy Farm and met with Dan and his son, Matt. They’re co-owners of this long-held family farm, with 1500 Holstein cows and a staff of 35 people. I had no doubt that things would be done on a larger scale here, and I was right. Richman Farms had a milking room that could milk about four to six cows at a time. Andreas Farm can handle 40 at a time, and milked their cows three times a day, around the clock. Wow!


The cows moved in & out from the milking stalls in unison. It was like a choreographed bovine ballet.

But even with the difference in scale, the cows at this farm had much the same experience as the smaller farm cows. They had unlimited access to their food and water, and a huge barn with clean bedding and individual beds to lay down and rest. And when I say beds, I mean beds – there’s a padded bed under the straw to keep them comfortable.

Dan explained that no one wants a stressed out cow – she won’t produce as much milk if she’s under stress. (Moms who have breastfed can understand that concept.) Happy cows really do mean better milk, and the farmer do their best to make sure these cows are living the good life. “We take care of them so they’ll take care of us,” Dan told us.


This is the maternity ward – all of these cows were due to give birth very soon and so were watched closely in case they needed any help.

The Andreas Dairy Farm also grows a large portion of the feed for their cows. Both farms work with vets and nutritionists to provide their cows with the best nutrition possible.

Since the Andreas farm is so large, they also have a LOT of calves around to keep the milk flowing. The part that’s easy to forget is you have to have a calf in order to have a cow making milk. So what happens to those calves?

When a calf is born, it’s shortly taken from its mother (I know, sad!). The colostrum from those first few milkings is saved for the calf and other calves, and is not used in milk production for people.The calves are then moved to their own pens for a short while. This keeps them safe, and they’re hand-fed during that time.


She’s simply adorable.

Dairy cows are amazingly calm around people because they’ve been hand raised by humans since day one. After they spend some time growing in the pens, the female calves are moved to their own herd to begin socializing and continue growing until they’re ready to have their first calves at around two years old.

What happens to the boys? Well, they’re usually sold. Some go on into breeding programs, but many will become meat cows when they’re older.

So then came the heavy questions. First: what happens to a sick cow? Any cow who is sick is kept separate from the herd, treated by a vet and given antibiotics if needed. Any cow who receives antibiotics still has to be milked (any breastfeeding mother understands this principle also), but her milk is kept separate and not used. Her milk cannot be used for milk production again until it tests negative for any trace of antibiotics.

I didn’t realize that all milk, organic or not, is not allowed to have any trace of antibiotics in it – it’s the law. Farms routinely test their milk to make sure it’s safe. When a tanker comes to collect milk (and often collects milk from several farms), a sample is taken from the milk it collects. The milk is again tested at the receiving facility. If any trace of antibiotics is found, the entire tanker must be dumped, and the farm that was responsible for the contamination ends up paying for the entire tanker of milk. Good reason to not cut corners, right?


One of the holding tanks where milk is cooled, tested and waits for transport.

Another big question we raised was the use of rBST (a bovine hormone supplement) in milk production. Contrary to belief, this isn’t an additive to the milk itself, but a hormone given to cows to increase milk production. Many of us (myself included) had concerns about the use of it and asked each farmer their opinion.

Both stated they firmly believe there is no danger in using it, as studies have shown no increase in the hormone levels in milk. (For the record, all milk naturally has hormones in it. Also for the record, I don’t believe in the use of supplemental hormones.) But both also said they didn’t use it with their cows. Dan said he tried it at one time, but found it didn’t increase the milk production enough to be worth the use and cost, and he discontinued it.

The one aspect of visiting these farms that surprised me the most was the dedication of those who do it. You really have to love these cows to be a dairy farmer. It’s hard work, in all types of weather and all hours of the day. These families don’t drive fancy cars or have grand homes – they’re not getting rich at this. The wives have additional jobs to help support the family.


It’s a beautiful part of Ohio, but I couldn’t live out here and give up my 3G cell phone coverage.

Both farms explained that the wholesale price of milk hasn’t changed much in over 30 years, despite the need for upgrades in equipment, increased costs for feed and new standards of care. When they send a tanker of milk out, they won’t know the price they’ll receive until the end of the month – milk is a commodity. They have no control over the price, and because milk has a set shelf life they can’t hold it and wait for a better price to come along.

But they love what they do, they love their cows and they help provide the milk and cheese that many of us eat each day. I was genuinely touched by the level of care for these animals, and feel a new appreciation for the glass of milk I pour for my kids each meal.


Sure, feeding a calf is fun once or twice. But bottle feeding 50+ of them multiple times a day & caring for animals 24/7, even on holidays? That would be exhausting.

There’s so much more I learned from the farms, but there’s no way it would fit in a single post. If you have any questions about the dairy farms that I didn’t cover, let me know and I’ll happily share what I saw and learned. If it was something we didn’t cover, I can put you in touch with the Ohio Dairy Farmers group so they can provide more information.

Also, watch for part two of this experience – we visited a cheese maker and learned how cheese was made. I can even give you some amazing wine and cheese pairings!

Disclosure: The American Dairy Association Mideast provided all meals, accommodations, transportation and access to farms during my Ohio Dairy Adventure. They also willingly handed me a bottle of warm milk to bottle feed a calf, and then reminded me that zoning restrictions would likely not allow a calf in my backyard. That part was kind of a downer.



Wedding Ring Panic Attack

Last night was a fairly normal night of putting the kids to bed and then coming back downstairs to get a little more work done and watch TV.

About half an hour into our child-free time, I suddenly realized something was missing. My left thumb reached across my palm to brush my ring finger, like I do absentmindedly several times a day to adjust my wedding ring, only to realize there was no ring to play with.

Looking down at my hand, I could see it was bare. Where did my ring go?

I’ve been complaining for months that I needed my wedding ring resized. I had to make it larger several years ago to continue wearing it through extra weight and pregnancies. But since losing weight my ring has lost that snug fit, going from tight to comfortable to seeing light between finger and ring.

The ring has far more personal meaning to it than monetary value. We were young and just starting out when we were married, so the rings we selected were nice, but inexpensive. I thought I might upgrade it someday to something a little more fancy,  but this wasn’t the way I wanted to go about doing so.

At first I figured it must have slipped off as I sat on the couch. So I casually started reaching down into the couch cushions to feel for the smooth metal band. Nothing. I then told Aaron that I had lost it as I stood up and began checking my pockets and the floor around me.

We tore apart the couch looking for it as I tried to mentally retrace my steps. I knew it was on earlier in the day, and the backyard was as far as I had gone that day, so at least it had to be somewhere in the house or yard.

I searched the dining room table and kitchen counters before continuing to progress backwards through my evening. I had tucked Mira in and reached under her to give her a hug – maybe it slipped off then? I was like a jewel thief in her room, carefully reaching under her pillow and blankets, trying to not wake the recently asleep child. No good.

And then I heard Aaron say “Found it!” He was in Cordy’s room, where earlier I was straightening out her comforter before bed. The ring had somehow come off as I was smoothing out her sheets.

Whew.

That was a wake up call to get the ring resized, though. So today we went to a jewelers and handed over my wedding ring – a ring I never take off – to be made smaller. It was a size 7. It will now be a size 5.5. Even my pinky wasn’t that small when I was younger – how is it I’m losing more weight from my fingers than anywhere else?

I’m hoping to have my ring back just before Thanksgiving. But I admit I feel naked without it.

naked hand

It’s the one piece of jewelry I always have on, and the one with the most significance. I keep having moments of panic, wondering where it went, before I remember that it’s with the jeweler. At least when it returns it’ll be much smaller, with less risk of it going astray.

Do other people feel naked without their wedding rings (or other important piece of jewelry or accessory), or am I the oddball? Have you ever lost something of significant personal value by accident?



Making A Home Out Of Our House

We’ve lived in this house for over eight years now. It’s our first house, and the only home our two daughters have ever known.

So why, after eight years, do we have only ONE room painted, and still have nothing hung on walls? Remove the furniture and it’s builder’s standard white through most of the house.

I have no actual answer for that question. We were in such a rush to move in once the house was ready that we didn’t take the time to paint before we moved everything in. So the only room that was painted was Cordy’s room, since I was pregnant at the time and it was the one room that had no furniture at first. I also didn’t want to hang anything on the walls until they were painted.

We also never planned to stay here this long. During the big housing boom, it was common to buy a house and sell it for a profit within four to five years. We bought a house that fit our modest budget, expecting our salaries to go up, and to make a profit on the house, so we could trade up to a better neighborhood.

Ha. Sometimes fate likes to kick you down a notch. Four years after we signed the mortgage agreement, instead of looking for our next home, we were struggling to make payments for this home and keep our family together.

And now four years later, we’re still here. We didn’t lose the house (thank goodness!) but at the moment we also have no ability to sell it without taking a loss. Most homes in our neighborhood are selling for far less than their original prices. To make it worse, there’s this immediately behind us:

Still getting uglier every day!

I think we still haven’t made any changes over bitterness at not being able to leave. The house has become a prison, reminding us every day that we’re stuck here and not going anywhere anytime soon. We were lucky enough to not lose it through the recession, but now we find it also won’t let us go.

I’ve gone through the stages of grief over being stuck in this house, and I may have finally reached acceptance, or at least a temporary acceptance. I still have no intention of staying here beyond another few years, but I’ve also hit the point where I’m ready to live here, not just subsist here.

All of our walls are still white (except for Cordy’s room). Nothing has been hung on the walls. The house still looks like we’re apartment dwellers afraid to do anything to the standard built-ins for fear of losing our security deposit. But this is our home. It’s time to start treating it as such. There’s no need to keep it neutral in decor unless that’s what we want.

We’re refinancing the house using a new refinance option to cut down our monthly mortgage, freeing up a little more money each month. We’re no longer in that dire situation from four years ago, so we can spend a little money on simple updates to the house.

And now I have home remodel fever.

I want to paint, to hang cabinets, to install a backsplash in the kitchen, to put in new faucets…the list goes on and on. Pinterest DIY boards are now my unhealthy obsession.

There’s only one teensy-tiny problem: I have no talent or skill in home remodeling.

I also can’t seem to find anywhere to learn these skills. Some of the home superstores offer workshops on limited projects, but I need the absolute basics.

I guess I have a little time before I need to figure out how to use power tools. Because before we can begin many of these projects, we also have to clear out a LOT of clutter. About eight years worth of apathy clutter in this house. Starting with the garage.
 

 That’s the real, unedited, garage mess. And that’s also after several hours of clearing out a large part of it and sending six boxes to Goodwill.
I’m writing all of this out here to hold myself accountable to begin these changes in our house. It’s time to make this place a home.


Go Vote Like It’s Your Job

Have you voted yet today?

No?

I hope you’ve already got time marked out today to do so. Remember that even if you show up five minutes before the polls are to close and see a long line, as long as you’re standing on that line by the cut off time, you’ll still get your chance to vote.

And like the title, says, go vote like it’s your job. Because it really is. People fought and died to break away from another country to form this democracy, fought and died to defend this democracy, fought and died to declare we’re all equal and guaranteed a vote regardless of gender and race, just to give you that opportunity. When elections happen, all eligible voters are given their right to cast their vote so the will of the people of this country is determined. So yeah, it is your job.

You may not be happy with the political process, or like any of the people running for office. You may not have strong feelings about local issues. But that’s no excuse to say you aren’t voting. “My vote doesn’t matter.” or “I don’t like anyone enough to go vote.” are not excuses.

If you don’t like any candidate, that’s fine – write in someone else or don’t vote in that particular race. Even a write-in for Jon Stewart is an important vote because it tells the country you’re not happy with the choices being given to you and frustrated with the system. And you likely do have an opinion on most local issues, as they will impact you either in taxes or in rights. Even if you’re not passionate one way or the other, vote for whichever way you’re slightly leaning. It still counts.

You may be voting for Romney. And I would still encourage you to vote, even if I don’t agree with you, because it’s your right and you deserve to have your voice heard as much as me, voting for Obama.

Breaking the nonpartisan tone of this post, I did vote for Obama. I did it because over the last four years our lives have improved. Four years ago we were unemployed and struggling to keep our home. When we needed help, it was there. We have jobs again and we see the economy improving.

My daughter can no longer be denied health insurance because she has autism. Both of my daughters are getting a good public school education that makes sure they stay ahead of the curve thanks to funding that gives the school the resources for special needs classrooms and aides, supplemental gifted education and smaller class sizes. I want them to be guaranteed equal pay for equal work. And beyond not wanting think about puberty and everything that comes with it, I want them to have the right to control their own bodies.

So go vote. Because you can.

Edited to add: if you choose to comment, no political fighting, please. There are plenty of places out there where they welcome a political debate. Or you can visit www.blogger.com and start your own free blog to share your own beliefs. Today it’s just about voting.



Halloween Recap (Late, As Usual)

Despite the cold and rain last week, the kids still insisted on going trick-or-treating on Halloween night. I’ve been getting over bronchitis, meaning walking outside in frigid, wet air probably wasn’t the best idea for me, so Aaron took the kids while I handed out candy with the dog.

Here’s what they looked like before they had to put on winter coats in order to go outside:

American Dream (took over for Captain America) and Snow White, escorted by Batman.

We had about half as many kids come to the door as we usually do. No wonder, considering the weather, but it meant long periods of waiting for the next group of kids. Cosmo stood watch patiently.

Captain Ameripup won’t ignore his duty.

My three returned after only an hour, ready to call it a night. The candy haul was still impressive, though. Both kids had full pumpkins, which we immediately dumped on the floor and began sorting. In our house, we have two different sorts – first is the standard “look for anything slightly open or that could have been tampered with” sort that I think most people do.

But then we have to sort Cordy’s candy for anything containing artificial colors, since she’s unable to eat them.

This is the “can’t eat” pile. Ugh.

I know it upsets her to take away over half of her candy. In previous years, this was much harder and involved some fairly hefty bribes to make her happy. As she’s grown, she’s started to understand just how bad she feels when she eats artificial dyes, and so she’s more willing to part with the loot. It also helps that a company called Unreal (no affiliation with them, I just like their candy) makes their own version of popular candies without the artificial dyes and junk. I bought a few large bags of their version of M&Ms right before Halloween so we’d be ready.

This year the offer of a new deck of Pokemon cards and the large bags of Unreal candy were accepted in trade for the candy she couldn’t keep. She still had about a third of her treats from going door-to-door, too.

Now it’s all over. The Halloween decorations have been put away (the pumpkins remain for now), the costumes have been moved to the dress-up toy bin, and we’re back to normal. (Well, aside from Ohio being the center of all things political at the moment.) It’s no wonder why November is so depressing for me – it’s that month between bright, happy, sparkly months.

And no, we won’t put up holiday decorations yet, even though they were being sold in stores before (!!!) Halloween. I’ll keep my less-fun November and let Thanksgiving have its day before I will put up any decorations. I’ll probably listen to Guns ‘N Roses “November Rain” a lot, too.

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