Decision to Milk Painful

By Denise Anderson First Published September 24, 1993 James entered the coffee shop the other day sporting a brand new, fluorescent cast that covered his right arm from shoulder to hand.“What happened to you?” I asked him.He muttered a reply.“You were hit by a house?” Alvin asked.He looked at me. I shrugged. I didn't hear James' answer, either.“No,” James replied louder and more clearly, “I was kicked by a cow.”“That's too bad,” Alvin said. “I know that can hurt.”I agreed and added my sympathy, but what I really wanted to know was what James was doing to the cow at the time of the accident.He was milking it, he replied.“Wait a minute,” Alvin said. “You don't run a dairy. All you've got is a cow-calf herd, the same as us, mostly Angus and Hereford.”“That's right,” I agreed. "Don't you have a few Brahma in there, too?”Yes, James said, that's what he has. There isn't a Holstein in the bunch.“So, basically, you were milking a cow that isn't used to being milked,” I concluded.He was, he admitted, and it was one of the Brahma to boot.Alvin and I leaned closer. There had to be a good story here, since no one in their right mind would ever consider milking a Brahma cow, let alone by hand and a cow that wasn't used to being milked. Brahman aren't known to be the most gentle cows to begin with.“I had to,” James argued. “She had lost her calf and her udder was so full, it was hard as a rock. I was concerned that if she didn't give up some milk, milk fever, or mastitis would set in. She's a good cow and I thought if I could get a little milk out of her, she'd be more comfortable.”He caught her, tied her to a fence post and got a bucket. He talked to her, got her calm and reached down to rub her udder. She didn't seem to mind that too much, James said, so he started working the nipples. Apparently, they were a little tender and the cow decided that was enough. She danced around a little bit. James held on, moving with her. She swished her tail at him. James was not deterred, so the cow used her only option she kicked.“I got the point,” James said. “Actually, it was the hoof and I decided she could just be uncomfortable.”At some point in their lives, almost all farmers make a wrong decision, usually a split-second decision. Many of them end in disaster.Almost daily, we hear of a farmer injured or killed when a tractor tips and traps the farmer under it, usually when he gets too close to a ditch or other incline. My brother-in-law spent three weeks in the hospital and lost his finger after he acted on reflex and put his finger on a hydraulic hose that had sprung a pin-point leak. The hydraulic fluid shot into his finger, poisoning him as effectively as a syringe with a toxic fluid in it.We hear of farmers who climb in grain bins to get the grain moving in the auger again, or those who get too close to an auger or power take-off shaft and end up dead or severely injured.Farming is by definition, a dangerous occupation. It only takes a second for an accident to occur.With fall harvest coming up, the chances of accidents increases. Working against the weather and with heavy machinery will make those split-second decisions inevitable. All we can hope is that they will take another second to think about the consequences of such a decision. It could make a difference in the rest of their lives.As for James, he learned a valuable lesson.“Next time, I'll put her in the chute we use to work calves so she can't kick me,” he said. “Of course, I think I'll wait 'til my arm heals.”

LaRae Marilyn Vawser

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