Life is good in new pad

The Galloway News - - FARMING REVIEW -

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

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