The Chief and I made some meat loaf for dinner two nights ago. It wasn't the traditional meat loaf. It was made entirely of pork products... ground pork steak and ground ham. There was a vinegar based glaze that was to be put over the top of the loaf as it was cooking. We didn't have any regular vinegar so we used the same amount of apple cider vinegar. As a result the glaze had a little more vinegary smell than I would have normally expected. It still tasted pretty good however, when rewarming the meat loaf up in the microwave it gives off a foul aroma. You can definitely pick up the tart vinegar smell yet with a hint of sweetness.
A hour or so after dinner the Chief made some instant coffee from milk and some decaf Maxwell House from the individual single serving packets. Opening the microwave to put the cup of milk in let out the foulness that had been festering in the microwave for far too long.
The Chief said: "That smells like nasty crotch..."
I said: "You mean Rosie Rotten Crotch?"
Then the Chief started laughing hysterically. Apparently RRC is not a term she had heard before. Here is the story of the first time I remember hearing it.
Having grown up on a dairy farm that was a term that my dad used to describe a certain cow a few days after calving. The cow came into the milking parlor and brought with it a stench that would kill crap flies and dung beetles in equal ratios. I think I threw up a little bit in my mouth when the cow came through. I made some comment about the cow's horrible smell to my dad. He smiled and said, "Oh, I see you met Rose Rotten Crotch. She's nasty." Unfortunately, that moment in time has stuck with me but the smell hasn't.
That reminds me of another story... as I mentioned I grew up on a farm. I drove a tractor before I was heavy enough to really push the clutch down to stop it... I was maybe 6 or 7 years old and I wasn't big enough to do much except drive the tractor while other people picked up hay bales or picked up rocks out of the field. I could pick up rocks, but I was so small that I had a hard time walking through the freshly plowed field. So I got to drive, I hated it at the time but looking back that was the best part of farming, at least it was the easiest.
As my brother and I got older, we had to do more and more on the farm. I guess that is why old farm families have a lot of children... free labor. I did not have a large family, only my brother and I, mom and dad, uncle and grandma and grandpa.
At some point in my family's farming career, we were operating a dairy farm. I was probably 12 or 13 years old which was old enough to know that I didn't want to be a farmer. The thing you must remember about dairy cows is that they need to be milked, twice a day. Every day. There are no vacations or holidays, or snow days, or any other type of lazy day.
My uncle was in a branch of the military reserves and had to do a two week training session every summer. That was when my brother and I had to help on the dairy farm. Normally I would be the only one going but if I complained enough sometimes my brother would be required to go as well. He wasn't much help but why should he get to sleep in while I was working at a job I didn't like and also didn't get any compensation for?
First some information about how the cow milking process at this dairy farm worked. Please see the diagram below.
A description of the milking parlor. There is a pit that is sunken about 3 feet below the level the cows are standing on. This allow for cleaning of the udders prior to milking. Everyone should know that cows are not clean and they will lay down in anything from a nice field of grass to a fresh steaming pile. Before milking the cow it is essential to clean the cow's udders. The cows being at a higher level allows easier access for the people doing the milking. There are two sides to the parlor. This particular setup contained 6 milking apparatuses. There are various gates used to keep the cows still while milking. There are also doors to the holding pen and to the barn that can be closed when the weather is cold. Only the milking parlor is slightly heated in the winter.
Now the process: Initially cows are held in the holding pen until everything is ready in the milking parlor. Once everything is ready, the door to Cow Side 1 is opened and the cows are brought in. Someone is required to go into the holding pen to drive 6 cows in. We could never train all of them to come in on their own. Once the sixth cow is in place, the gate at the end is shut to put the cow in the correct orientation, rear towards the lowered floor.
The cows are then cleaned and the milkers put on. While the Side 1 cows are milking, Cow Side 2 is opened and cows are driven in for cleaning. Once the Side 2 cows are cleaned the milker can be moved from a finished cow on Side 1 to a cleaned cow on Side 2. When all the cows on Side 1 are finished the gate at the front is opened and they move outside to the barn. Some cows are slower milk givers than others, some have higher capacity, and some are just a pain in the ass. The ones that are a pain in the ass come in generally two types: first, the cow that does not want to let it's milk down. In this case the simple solution is to punch the cow in the udders. Then try again. This is the same method a newborn calf will use before trying to drink only instead of punching the calf will head butt the udders to make the cow let down it's milk (I didn't see how could that be true, until I saw a newborn calf ram its head into the udders of its mother. The mother jumped a little bit, then the calf started drinking.). The second type of pain in the ass cow is the one that is jumpy and will periodically kick off the milker. It did not take much to kick off the milker since they are only held on by suction.
There was on particular cow that dad had named "Kicky" because it nearly always kicked off the milker and normally it would kick it off more than once. On one particular day, dad got so frustrated with this cow that he tried to go ninja on the cow and karate chop it. In theory this might be a good idea, in reality he broke his hand. He wore a cast for 6-ish weeks while it healed. It is a good thing my dad is not Chuck Norris, or he would have chopped off the cow's leg.
During my family's milking career there were ups and downs in the number of cows milked. I think the least amount of cows was around 30 and the most around 65 cows.
One other thing about cows is they don't care where or when the go to the bathroom. Number one or number two also don't really matter either, at least to the cow. It was not uncommon for a cow to go number 1 or number 2 while they were being milked. In fact, it would be abnormal if there was not at least one incident during the milking session. When this incident happens it must be cleaned up. Sometimes it can be cleaned after the side of cows are finished. Other times it can be cleaned up before they are finished. Number 1 is easier to clean up than number 2. Number 1 requires a hose and a drain. Number 2 first required a plastic dust pan to scoop up the semi-solid material and toss it out into the holding pen. Then it would be washed using the hose as a final cleanup.
In the early years of milking, one of the things my brother could do was to drive the cows from the holding pen into the milking parlor.Since this was the summer we would leave the doors to Side 1 and Side 2 open. This would help to keep the parlor cooler (no AC) but it would block the man door into the lowered floor area. This meant using the steps and going through the Side 1 door.
One one particular day we were about half way through the group of cows. We had let out the cows on Side 1 and my brother went out into the holding pen to drive 6 more cows in. As he was walking out a cow on Side 2 decided to go number 2. Dad was busy so I had to clean it up. I grab the dust pan, scoop up the crap and fill the dust pan, walk to the Side 1 door and throw the deposit outside into the holding pen. What I did not realize is that my brother was walking in the door at the exact moment I was throwing the poo out. It hit him square in the chest and splattered onto his face. Of course he was upset, since it was an accident, I thought it was very funny. I think dad thought it was funny too but he didn't let it show.
It was a total accident... well, mostly an accident...
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