Carol and I were reminiscing via email about how much we liked to gather at milking time in the evening. Milking happened twice a day, but usually we kids didn't make it to the early morning milking. All of our milk, cream and butter originated with the milk cows, and none of us will forget the sweet taste of the fresh, warm milk straight from the cow...all foamy, sweet and delicious.
We had three to four milk cows at any given time in the early days, and they usually wandered up to the milking area at the appointed time to be milked. They knew when their udders were full and needing relief. The milking area was near the "calf pen" where their calves were housed. If the little ones had been left with the moms, the milk for us would be gone in a flash with the calves suckling frequently. We always felt a bit sorry for those babies growing up without access to their mamas, but such is life on the ranch. The calves were fed fresh milk in nipple buckets and, later on, were given a "calf formula" manufactured to simulate cow's milk. We loved to pet the little ones, and they became quite tame.
Our dads gave the cows grain in a trough next to the calf pen. And then the milking began.... we kids, with cups brought from home, gathered to get a fresh cup of milk. It was delicious! Sometimes my dad would give one or more of us a surprise shot of milk in the face when we least expected it! There was much laughter and giggling!
The ranch cats, probably up to a dozen, gathered at milking time too and got their reward when our dads would aim a squirt of milk directly at their faces.... The cats became quite adept at slurping up the stream of milk. Then a dollop of milk was poured into a pan for the cats to finish off. This warm milk and all the mice and chipmunks they could catch were the diet of the ranch cats. The cats were never in the houses and, though, some were petted, were really kept to take care of the rodent populations.
My dad always had the funniest names for the cats, cows, dogs, horses and kids... One tabby female cat was known as 'Lots of Cats'; one of her litters was 17 kittens! He named one cow "Crisco" and others were also named for brands of shortening. There was a sweet cow named "Goofy". There were many other names, generally picked due to the nature of the cow. We lived in fear of one cow who did not like children and, if she was approached, would snort and make every attempt to knock the encroaching kid down, there to be rolled around on the ground with her nose. We learned to never go near "Chasey Cow" unless the dads were present. I can remember one kid or another shouting "Chasey Cow is coming" and we would all run for safe territory!
After milking was done, we went to the chicken house and to the other nests to gather eggs. The nests were located in the chicken house and in various outbuildings. We always seemed to have a chicken who managed to hide her nest and produce a flock of chicks. Oh my! Were they ever protective of their babies... If we got too close, the mother hen would charge at you with her wings spread out wide and feathers ruffled, all fluffed up.. Made her look big and scary! Those baby chicks were so cute!
After milking was done, the calves fed and the eggs gathered, the milk in buckets was taken to be "separated" using a machine called a "separator" which filtered the milk and operated by a centrifuged process separating the cream from the milk. Initially, the separator was manually driven with a crank handle to make the milk spin and separate. Later, when electricity was brought to the Ranch, we had an electric separator.
The cream was so thick that, when cold, it was nearly solid and so sweet. The milk was similar to skim milk after this process and supplied three or four households. Note that we all drank fresh unpasteurized milk from childhood to adulthood, and no one was ever the worse for it. Undoubtedly, we came away with strong healthy bones! We sold our excess cream in Collbran at the "Creamery" and in Grand Junction to another place.
Cleaning the milk separator was an arduous task and sometimes when the moms were away, the "big" girls got to do the job. It was very important to do it well and keep it extremely clean. Carol remembers learning to wash it when she was about ten years old.
One funny milking story involved Carol's little brother, Allan, who came running into our house to tell his mom about milking a cow. His excited story went like this: "Mom, Tom, Dan and I milked a cow together!"
Marian replied "How did you three boys manage to milk one cow?"
Allan replied "Tom was on one side, Dan was on the other side and I got to sit at the back end of the cow!" All Marian could do was smile! I think she was thankful the cow didn't decide to cover Allan with a fresh cow plop or kick him out of the way!
Our moms were very smart to never learn how to milk a cow. As my mom put it, "If you don't know how, you won't have to do it!" I, however, decided to learn to milk and did. Consequently, on several occasions, I had to milk one of the cows when one of the dads or brothers were missing! Bad/good choice on my part. There was something very sweet about sitting on the milking stool, snuggling up to the warm side of the cow and rhythmically pinging the milk into the bucket.
More later on the curious naming of the ranch animals and other escapades of the Currier kids growing up free and strong!
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