Dedicated Dairy Legends

I always thought it’d be awesome to have a cow. We smash through milk in this house — three litres a day, minimum. Then some friends went and actually got one. I was stoked to hear how it was going. I asked one of their older kids. She looked me dead in the eye and said, totally straight-faced:
“Having a cow is great. You can go anywhere you want… for six hours, then you have to come home.”

I laughed so hard — until it hit me. Dairy farmers aren’t just workers; they’re tethered. Morning, night, rain or shine, the herd calls.

I grew up on full cream milk from the dairy down the road — fifty cents a litre, straight from the vat. And I mean full cream. The top of that milk tub had cream thicker than a dark ale. When we were kids we used to visit family friends who ran a proper old-school dairy. Easily one of my top five places to be as a kid.

Before the sparrows even thought about farting, the dairy lights would flicker on. Someone’s got the kettle on, prepping for the herd of smelly party guests about to rock up. A frenzied few hours in a simple exchange, yummy food for warm creamy milk. A water fight, ah, I mean clean up after and the work was done. Well, for us kids at least, till the next milk at sundown. 

Those six hours between milkings? They never went to waste. Dirt bike rides, mango picking, cannonballs in the water tank — a full-blown adventure until the Jerseys wandered back over the hill and the whole milking circus started again.

From sundown, the fabulous family dinner bustle began — baths, bubbling kitchen chatter, and the best dumplings I’ve ever tasted, before or since.

Years later, I heard the parents retired and were travelling the world. A warm grin of gratitude and appreciation kissed my cheeks. They’d bloody earned it.

Cheers to dairy farmers everywhere — gumboot-wearing heroes who keep the country in coffee, cereal, and custard. Deadset Aussie Legends.

#TwoBob #FarmLife #DairyDays #BloodyLegends #FullCreamDream