Life is good in new pad
Well things must be looking up for dairy farmers.
Only a couple of months ago we had two shiny new robot milkers installed. Now we are getting a brand new shed.
The ground at the back of the shed has all been cleared. The weirdo that lived in the caravan now has a shiny new mobile home at the silage pit.
For the last month from early morning till late at night, builders and every tradesman in the area has worked away diligently. Well, that is if they were not leaning on a shovel, drinking tea or hiding in their vans.
Our old shed was getting a bit cramped. It was built 40 years ago when cows were smaller. It gets more of an effort to squeeze my ample but perfectly formed frame into a cubicle space.
It’s getting so full in the shed it’s like hot bedding. There is a queue for the water trough and when the ration is delivered it’s best to be on your feet and moving if you want a space at the trough.
The great day came and the shed was open for business. After the morning milking, the dairyman – he of the colourful language – ceremoniously opened the gate to the new shed.
It was all shiny metal and pristine concrete. It seemed a pity to defile it but cows being cows, we christened it with our trade mark poo.
Well, they had really pulled out all the stops. Great big cubicles, endless trough space, wide passage ways. The water trough was so big you could use it as a swimming pool.
Well, I checked out the whole shed. Sampled the water. Filled up on silage at a positively deserted feed bunker. Then with all the eating and pooing, it was time for a lie down.
Now our old cubicles were a bit narrow but the worst feature was the mat that lined them. Ok it wasn’t as bad as lying on concrete but it was not much softer.
The new beds were from another world. I snuggled down and, to be honest, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.
It was going to take the world ending to get me to give this up.
Well, all good things come to an end and a little voice in my head kept saying milking time. It got more and more insistent so I reluctantly left the heaven of my super soft bed and was meandering round to the back of the parlour. That’s when it happened. Coming towards me down the passageway was a large red mushroom. Article provided by
Now, I am known for my happy go lucky attitude but this was all wrong. I did a 180 degree and retreated to the other end of the shed. It just kept on coming pushing a big pile of poo in front of it.
Now Arthur the Aberdeen Angus bull, sadly not the brightest toy in the toy box, was right in its path. He must be having one of his off days because instead of beating a hasty retreat he stood transfixed. I braced myself for the train wreck. And just at the moment of contact the mushroom stopped reversed and then navigated round Arthur.
It took a bit to work it out but as I watched it majestically continued on its course scraping the mountains of poo down the slats.
It was a clear this was the replacement for the dairyman and his shovel. And it didn’t swear. What will they think of next. Maybe even another mushroom to push up the silage. But then what do I know I am only a dairy cow. Acadamy Vets. Stranraer; Ark Vets, Lockerbie; Galloway Vets, Kirkcudbright; Priory Vets, Whithorn; Stewartry Vets, Castle Douglas; Nithsdale Vets, Thornhill . Daisy the cow