Last night I milked Lady Astor, the house cow, for the last time this season. She does not know it yet because she is a cow and though invited to the meeting of me and … um … ‘me’ to discuss the future of her milking season – she had nothing to say other than “What is this crap hay? I would not even waste Spit on this hay. Take this rubbish away and get me something decent to eat”.
But her production has dropped to about one and a half gallons a day so it is time to let her close up shop and concentrate on her growing calf. (Though I never quite believe a cow is pregnant until we have another calf on the ground in the spring!)
So off into the back paddock she has gone. The milking door is shut and will remain shut. I will leave her alone and do nothing that will give her the impression that we will be milking any evening soon. TonTon, who religiously goes out to escort the milking cow in at about 4pm every single day (and cannot be commanded otherwise) will go and have a holiday in town with Nanny for a few days.
Lady Astor, after a rather rocky start, has been a lovely cow to milk for this summer. Even letting Our John be replaced by Hugo and having a myriad of visitors observe the milking. With just the odd kick in the face here and there! Bless her, she had never been milked before, always raised her own calves without humans trying to nick some milk for themselves. So she has done well. We have butter and ice cream in the freezer, in fact I froze more butter and ice cream than tomatoes this year! And not even a whisper of the dreaded mastitis that dogged Poor Old Daisy. Lady Astor raised her own calf, Naomi, and fed us all as well. And hopefully next year will do so again.
Thank you Lady.