The Morning The Cow Lost Her Tail

Nobody can tell this story like Mom - but I will give it a try.

Dairy farming is hard at the best of times. Milking those angels early in the morning and again early afternoon, cleaning and more cleaning, planting, harvesting, feeding, then more cleaning. The milk barn is always cold and wet. A lucky farmer will have dependable help and believe me it makes all the difference. Sometimes it talks some false starts before you find just the right person. One who can get along with you, your animals, and do things the right way.

On most mornings, us girls never knew any of this was going on. We slept in our nice snug beds and dreamed our wonderful dreams, got up and had a warm nourishing breakfast, cleaned to the kitchen and then went to work or school. We didn't participate in those early morning milkings, but we worked the rest of the day. Summer and winter, wet or dry, warm or cold, it didn't matter, there was always work to be done.

The coldest day of the year and wet to boot, the milker called in sick. Yeah Right! No matter, the cows had to be milked. Dad got us all up. As we put on our layered clothes - long johns, sweats, two pair of socks, rubber boots, knit caps, and jackets - to stay as warm as possible. All those angels did not willingly come into the barn, some loved to play catch and slide in the mud and muck. Mom and Dad were already running the milking machines when my sister and I got to the barn.

What a mess! The cows had ice hanging from their tails and it was cold, really cold. Dad said we could go back to the house once we got all the cows in the barn and the feed hoppers filled. Sis and I went to work. I went after cows and she headed upstairs to fill the hoppers. There was nothing but frozen slush until you stepped in it - It wasn't frozen all the way through. Cows were in the barn, I was covered in - well you know, and Sis was down from the feed room.

Mom's head was covered in a hair net, her flannel pajama top was sticking out of the top of her sweat shirt and she was a sight. Mom was resting her head on the side of the cow as she took the milkers off. She turned around, dipped the milkers in the cleaning solution and put them on the next cow. She checked the cow she had finished milking, opened the door, and swatted her behind encouraging her to exit the milking stall. Most of the cows were hard to get out of the warmth of the barn when the milking was finished. The cow wouldn't budge, so she swatted her behind again. The cow jumped out of the stall and hollered as she ran out of the barn - without her bushy tail. A common practice in the winter, Mom had split the hair on the bottom of the cow's tail and tied it around the stall rods to keep the cow from swishing the tail in Mom's face while she was milking. Mom forgot to untie the hair when she let her out of the stall and the hair was jerked out of the end of the tail.

Mom starting hollering and crying, Dad was laughing, and Sis and I headed to the house. Poor cow! I don't believe she ever swished her tail again while being milked.