7 lessons of life (and veterinary medicine) learned in the milk parlor

By: Claire McPhee

Class of 2012, North Carolina State University

Many people had experience with cattle prior to veterinary school. I was not one of those people. And yet, when I approach a cow, I feel a little flutter in my heart. Among other things, this flutter has led me to a decision to focus my career around these wonderful creatures. Since my fellow food animal veterinary students have largely spent their lives around livestock, it turns out that I have a little bit of catching up to do.

2010 became “the summer of all things bovine.” In addition to working with two different dairy practices, I decided to spend some time on the farm. My destination was a mid-size Jersey dairy in New England. Jersey cows, I discovered, like to split their time between being incredibly friendly and trying to kill you. Most of the latter happens in the parlor, where they seem to forget their curious and gentle nature in favor of figuring out how to make life difficult for the milkers.

As it turns out, the Jerseys taught me a lot. As I reflected on my time in the parlor, I realized that those lessons were not only applicable to milking cows, but also to life in general and veterinary medicine in particular.

One Size Does not Fit All

This particular farm liked to keep cows around as long as possible, even if milking them required special attention. I lost count of the cows milking from only three quarters. There was the cow with the teats sticking straight out the side from her udder (picture an over-inflated latex glove with fingers sticking out in various directions) and the cows who had one teat that took 3 times as long as the rest to milk. The lesson here is acceptance. On my first day milking, I was overwhelmed by the individual knowledge required to get through this herd. I realize that this scenario would not be tolerated in most herds, with a large number of milkers and a greater focus on speed, even if many of the three-quartered cows produced as much milk as their four-quartered colleagues. It was also clear that knowing the cows on an individual basis resulted in a great appreciation for the animals by the workers, evident in their handling of the cows. The employees’ acceptance of the uniqueness of each member of their herd contributed to a great dedication to their work on the farm.

Don't be Afraid to Ask for Help

It’s a good thing no one had a video camera during my first morning in the milking parlor. Although I had the general concept down, my speed and efficiency were somewhat lacking. Every animal I approached was much more interested in stepping on my arm than in emptying her udder.  If the teat cups weren’t placed high enough, than the cow could easily step on the claw and remove the entire contraption. After the fifth or sixth time this happened, I started to get frustrated, which led to questioning myself. This is a lesson about reaching out to members of your team when confronted with challenges. It turns out that the Beatles were onto something—I got by with a little help from my friends.

Sometimes a Little Gentle Touch Goes a Long Way

When confronted with an edgy first-calf heifer in the parlor, it is best not to grab at her quarters without warning. Actually, even a calm cow can become edgy without soothing treatment. From these nervous animals still adjusting to the parlor, I learned a lesson about tenderness. By placing my other hand gently but with firm pressure on her flank, the heifer would be much more tolerant of activity around her udder. I think this lesson translates to interactions with people as well as animals. Kindly making someone aware of your support can be the first and most important step in gaining trust and establishing rapport.

Even Nice Cows Can Kick

The most gentle of jersey cows in the pasture can become a vicious beast when you are at chest level with her feet and trying to attach sucking machinery to her teats. Docile though she may seem, don’t assume she won’t try to step on your hand or kick you in the head when you pre-strip. The lesson here is about caution and awareness, and extends to all the species we will work with in our veterinary careers. The possibility of injury (intentional or otherwise) exists frequently with our patient population, and if we forget that, someone might get hurt. 

Music Makes Everything Better

I like to imagine the cows bobbing their heads along to the pop music on the radio. Even if they don’t visibly dance, research has shown that playing certain types of music to dairy cattle can significantly increase milk yields.[1] It also cuts the silence in the parlor at 3:45 am, and makes the time pass more quickly. This is a lesson about finding a way to enjoy every moment, even when that seems highly implausible.

If it's Too Hot for me, it's Too Hot for the Cows

Yes, milking cows is hot when it’s 95 degrees. But imagine being a cow, whose metabolism is optimized at about 45 degrees Fahrenheit. This lesson is all about comfort. When life becomes unpleasant, sometimes we dwell on our own discomfort and sink into a downward spiral of self-pity and frustration. Maybe this is an opportunity instead to look around and imagine what others are going through. Sometimes by taking a moment to observe the distress of others, and by focusing on trying to improve their situation, we hardly notice our own discomfort.

Shit Happens. Lots.

Of course I am not the first person to say this. But believe me, when you stand next to and below 200 cows and have to reach underneath them to get the job done, there is simply no avoiding the poop. This lesson is about not taking ourselves to seriously, and not being afraid to get a little bit dirty. The way I see it, when shit happens, you can either laugh or cry about it. And I choose to laugh—with my mouth shut—to avoid accidental ingestion.

The cows taught me a lot this summer. By taking the time to reflect on my experiences working at the dairy, I realize that most of those lessons involve aspects of emotional intelligence. There is no question that being a veterinarian requires a tremendous amount of skill. We spend four years in school perfecting our medical knowledge and technical skills. But when we head into the world and begin interacting with clients and patients, there is a whole skill set that may not have been part of our training. Many professionals believe that developing emotional intelligence is vital to a veterinary career due to the complex interactions that arise in our daily work. As we go through our training, opportunities to improve our emotional intelligence arise constantly—it’s just a question of identifying those lessons. So pour yourself a tall glass of milk (chocolate if you prefer), and take a moment to sit back and ruminate about your life and the world around you.

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[1] http://www.biology-online.org/articles/milk_yields_affected_music.html