Happy
Mr. Fred's milk cow + a meal plan
It started as a temporary thing. Our neighbor, Mr. Fred, was going on vacation and needed someone to milk his cow. Since my parents valued raw milk and because they were good neighbors, they agreed to keep the cow on our farm and milk her twice a day. Or, rather, have us kids milk her twice a day.
I must’ve been 12-14, but I can’t say for sure, when Happy came to our Missouri farm, Mockingbird Hill. She was red with white markings on her face and a white belly. We didn’t know anything about A2A2 milk and we weren’t picky about breed. A cousin had told us about the horrors of store-bought milk and we would do what it took to avoid it.
Given her name, we expected Happy to be…happy. Nice. Friendly. Loveable. Mr. Fred said he just walked out to the pasture with a bucket and a stool and milked her wherever she happened to be. I could just see him with his relaxed walk, thin form, hair sticking out under his newsboy hat, walking into the green, flower dotted pasture to milk his beloved cow. My romantic little self also had visions of milking a cow in the field with flowers in my hair, just like farm girls have for hundreds of years. All my dreams were coming together nicely.
Happy was the most cantankerous cows I have ever met. She wanted nothing to do with being milked in the field and my dreams died a sad death were postponed. I still want to walk out to the pasture with a bucket and a 3 legged stool just as the sun peaks over the horizon. Just me and my cow, loving the sun, the breeze, and birdsong.
Happy kicked the bucket when we were trying to milk or sometimes she just stepped into it and we had to throw the whole bucket out. She did not respond to us in the loving way she expected. In fact, she made life generally complicated in every way. I adjusted my dreams and loved it anyway.
Soon after, Mr. Fred had to sell Happy and asked us if we would buy her. I remember weighing the pros and cons over the dinner table. My parents made sure us kids, who were rooting for our own milk cow, knew the commitment we were asking for. We were determined and Happy came home to us.
Her front quarters were excellent for hand milking, but the back two had such small teats, we had to milk her Dr. Seuss style. I.e. one finger and thumb. So, we went to the sale barn and bought a bottle calf, whom we named Juliet. Juliet hung out with her buddy Romeo during the day and every time we finished milking Happy’s front quarters, Juliet got to eat her supper from the back two quarters. The arrangement worked well and somehow, we still had milk to spare and sell. It was always with a sense of extreme accomplishment when I opened the front screen door of our old farm house and traded gallon jars full of milk for empty ones with a customer - empty, except for the two dollars of cash in each one.
Happy became a flex for us. We were so proud of our ability to milk her. Once, when my cousin stopped by for a visit with her college friends, my brother was milking. As soon as she heard, my cousin begged to give it a try. I felt pretty grown up taking her and her cool friends out and showing them how to do something they’d never done before. My brother thought I should not have brought them through the messy barn.
I don’t remember how long we had Happy, but I will always remember the smell of the soapy water we used to wash her udder, the sound of milk streaming into our bucket, and the feeling of accomplishment as I carefully strained the milk into glass jars, not to mention the delight of skimming the cream and whipping it up with honey for fresh gingerbread.
Thinking of Happy reminds me that there is profound value and joy in diverse experiences during childhood. We may not have had her for longer than a year, but the experience and the memories from that short season were so helpful when we brought our first milk cow home to Cactus Hills.
When thinking over what will impact my kids during their childhood, it’s easy for me to feel like I must forever continue whatever I start, whether it’s milking a cow, planting a garden, or anything else. But, sometimes you have to try a thing to know if it’s a good fit for your family. And there’s no shame in giving it all you got and then going a different direction. It’s an invaluable experience either way.
I’ll always be glad I got to spend a year or two with Happy.
It’s been a minute, but I have a meal plan for you! So far, 2026 has been marked by a debilitating chronic illness relapse and I’ve spent most of the last 6 weeks resting on the couch, trying to recover before we start lambing in April. In an effort to keep life simpler for my family this meal plan is full of simple meals that my older kids can make or I can put together without too much effort.
Thanks for following along - I’m glad you’re here!
Stefani
I love your writing!