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Our Farm of Four Acres and the Money we Made by it, a non-fiction book by Miss Coulton |
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Chapter 3. Our Second Cow |
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_ CHAPTER III. OUR SECOND COW We soon found that we could not expect to supply our family with butter from one cow, and we thought that, as we had to perform the duties of dairy-women, we might as well have the full benefit of our labor. We, therefore, purchased another cow; but before doing so, were advised not this time to have Welsh one, but to give more money and have a larger animal. This we did, and bought a very handsome strawberry-colored one, for which, with the calf, we gave $75; and here it will be as well to say that we think it was $25 thrown away, for in respect did she prove more valuable than the black one, for which we had given but $50. For a small dairy, we think the black Welsh cow answers as well, or better, than any other. The price is very small, and, judging from our own, they are very profitable. They are also much hardier than those of a larger breed, and may be kept out all winter, excepting when snow is on the ground. After our new cow had been in our possession just a week, we received one morning the unwelcome intelligence that the "new cow" was very bad. We went into the meadow, and saw the poor creature looking certainly as we had been told, "very bad." We asked our factotum what was the matter with her. To this he replied, that he did not know, but that he had sent for a man who was "very clever in cows." In a short time this clever man arrived, bringing with him a friend, likewise learned in cattle. He went to see the patient, and returned to us looking very profound. "A bad job!" said he, with a shake of the head worthy of Sheridan's Lord Burleigh. "A sad job, indeed! and you only bought her last market-day. Well, it can't be helped." "But what ails her?" said I. "What ails her! why, she's got the lung disease." "But what it is that? said I. "What's that! why, it's what kills lots of cows; takes 'em off in two or three days. You must sell her for what she'll fetch. Perhaps you may get $10 for her. I'll get rid of her for you." "But," said H., "if she has the 'lung disease' you talk of, you tell us she must die." "Yes; she'll die, sure enough." "Well, then, who will buy a cow that is sure to be dead to-morrow or next day?" "Oh, that's no concern of yours! You get rid of her, that's all." To this dictum we rather demurred, and resolved to send for a cow-doctor, and see if she could be cured; if not, to take care she was not converted after her death into "country sausages," for the benefit of London consumers of those dainties. Our friendly counsellor was very indignant at our perversity in not getting rid of a cow with "the lung disease," and stumped out of the yard in a fit of virtuous indignation. With proper treatment the cow soon got well. We still had occasional trouble with our butter-making; sometimes it would come in half an hour, sometimes we were hard at work with the churn for two or three hours, and then the butter was invariably bad. We tried to procure information on the subject, and asked several farmer's wives in the neighborhood "how long butter ought to be in coming." We always received the same answer:-- "Why, you see, ma'am, that depends." "Well," we asked, "what does it depend on?" "Oh, on lots of things." "Well, tell us some of the things on which it depends." "Why, you see it's longer coming in hot weather, and it's longer coming in cold weather; and it depends on how long the cow has calved, and how you churn, and on lots beside." We found we must endeavor to discover for ourselves the reason why we were half an hour in getting it one day, and the next, perhaps, two or three hours. As the weather became colder we found it more troublesome, and one frosty day we churned four hours without success. We put in cold water, we put in hot we put in salt, we talked of adding vinegar, but did not; we churned as fast as we could turn the handle, and then as slowly as possible, but still no butter. At the end of more than four hours our labors were rewarded. The butter came; strong, rank stuff it was. We determined before the next churning day to try and find out the reason of all this trouble. We once more took to our books, but were none the wiser, for none of them told us anything about the particular thing we searched for. After many experiments we tried the effect of bringing the cream into the kitchen over night, and see if warmth would make any difference. It was guess-work for two or three churnings, but the discovery was made at last, that we were always sure of our butter in half an hour, provided the cream was, when put into the churn, at a temperature of from 50' to 60'.* [We kept a small thermometer for the purpose of plunging into the cream-pot. If it was lower than 55' we waited till it reached that degree: if the weather was very warm, and it rose higher than we have specified, we did not attempt to churn till by some means we had lowered it to the proper temperature.] No matter how long the cow had calved, how hot or how cold the weather, if we put the cream into the churn at that degree of heat the butter was sure to come, in as near as possible the time we have specified. This, in the winter, was effected by bringing the cream-pot into the kitchen over night, and if the weather was very cold, placing it on a chair a moderate distance from the fire for about a quarter of an hour in the morning: boiling water was likewise put into the churn for half an hour before it was used. Now, no doubt, a regular dairymaid would "turn up her nose" at all these details; but I do not write for those who know their business, but for the benefit of those ladies who, as is now so much the custom, reside a few miles from the city or town in which the business or profession their husbands may be situated. In many cases they take with them town-bred servants to a country residence; and then, like ourselves, find they know nothing whatever of the duties required of them. To those who have several acres of pasture land, of course this little book is all "bosh." They employ servants who know their work and perform it properly; but most "suburbans" require the cook to undertake the duties of the dairy, and unless they are regular country servants they neither do their work well nor willingly. If any lady who has one or two cows will instruct her servant to follow our directions, she will always be sure of good butter, with very little trouble. All that is required is a churn, milk-pans (at the rate of three to each cow), a milk-pail, a board (or, better still, a piece of marble), to make the butter up on, a couple of butter-boards, such as are used in the shops to roll it into form, and a crock for the cream. In the next chapter we will give, as concisely as we can, the whole process that we ourselves used in our dairy. _ |
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