The teat is rougher yet squishier than I expected as I milked a cow for the first time this week. It was a little tricky, but after a couple of tries I managed to produce a few quick squirts of milk. Unfortunately, I couldn't coordinate the cereal bowl beneath the cow.
It made me think about how much distance most of us have from our food. There is so much to know about the operation of a farm, and I was fascinated as my friend Andrew explained the feeding, milking and care of these large mooing animals that provide so much of my daily sustenance.
I'm not a vegetarian, but I might be if I had to do the killing myself. Does this make me a hypocrite? I've always thought I'd like to take up fishing, but every time I catch a fish I lose my nerve to do the deed and end up throwing it back.
My mom says it is partly biological. That, as a female, I am hardwired to nourish and nurture, not kill. But then I think of all the women on homesteads throughout history, grabbing a chicken out of the yard and wringing it's neck for dinner. And my husband was just as soft-hearted toward that gasping fish.
Are we soft? Or do we leave these things to others because we have the luxury to do so?
I don't have any answers. But I think that if you have the opportunity to milk a cow, you should go for it. That tall glass of milk will taste just a little bit better.
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