THE DAIRY FARMER’S GEAR

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1716, 18 January 1905, Page 63

THE DAIRY FARMER’S GEAR

PAST AND PRESENT. (By “Woodville,” in the “Hawke’s Bay Herald.”) For many years the words “dairy farm” conjured up the idea of a neat little building with floor of stone, walls shelved! all round, with wide pans brimful of milk upon the shelves, milk of all shades, from the pure white just poured in, to the deep yellow that showed how the cream had risen during the couple of days it had been standing; the big stone jar of cream ready for the churn ; the churn itself, in the old days a perpendicular barrel, tapering round the top, with a dasher on a handle going through the lid, which had to be lifted up and driven down through the cream, a hard job even at the start, hut growing harder and harder as the cream thickened and 1 bo butter came; though in later days the churn would have been one of many new styles introduced for the purpose 0 f obtaining equal effect with less exertion, and doing so well.

too; ewerythjinlg, floor, walls, shelves and utensils, scrubbed till they could not be scrubbed cleaner, and still having, as the prettiest sight of all, the short-sleeved, short-skirted, bright-eyed, rosy-oheeked Phyllis, who was mistress of the show. And beside these, there was the thought of the dainty rolls ox butter that came from such a dairy, rich-coloured, rich-flavoured, that made good bread covered with it as great a dainty as any cake. Nor, even now. with all the factories there are in the colony, is the product of such a dairy to be easily beaten, or even equalled. But now the words “dairy farm” brings up altogether another idea. Now the distinctive mark of a dairy farm is a long milking shed, built to accommodate twice as many cows as used to be the case. Twice as many, did I say 0 Five or six times as many, I should have said. At the end of the shed is a high stand on which there is a strainer, through which the milk is poured mto the cans in which it is to be carried to the creamery. This is done not only to strain out anything that may have fallen into the bucket while the milking has been going on, but also, and mainly, to aerate the milk, to allow it to be thoroughly cooled, and also to- give the animal odours as much chance of passing off as possible. The cans into which the milk is run are made of strong tinned steel, and held about twelve or fifteen gallons each. Milk cans have undergone a very considerable development in the course of the growth of the factory system. At first they used to be like the old style churns, tall and tapering, but these were found to be apt to- be top heavy, and apt to splash. Then short, dumpy ones came in, with canister lids to them. But these were found to take up a great deal of room in the farmer’s trap l , and to b© very apt to splash too. And the cloths that were used at the necks to prevent-the splashing, it was found difficult, if not impossible, to keep thoroughly sweet, and when they were not they injured fresh milk —it is wonderful how little it takes to injure milk —while it was also founJt to he practically impossible tc keep the internal seams in the can, and the narrowings at the top and neck, thoroughly clean, so that these did not win much favour either. The can now in use is made of strong sheet steel, tinned, a perfect cylinder in shape, with internal seams reduced to a minimum, and a lid simply, yet cunningly, contrived, so as to reduce splashing to a minimum.

About the end of September or the beginning of- October, one of the farmer’s boys comes in to breakfast with the announcement that- one of the cows has calved during the night. After that there is but little thought of easy times in the house for tne next eight months or so. The cans are looked over, any that want overhauling are taken to the tinsmith. Tinsmithing is an important trade, and the tinsmith is a busy man in the country towns nowadays. The creamery manager is asked what days he will be running now. “Oh, we’re just going to start running three days a week, and as soon as anything like a quantity comes in we’ll run every day.” The cart and harness are overhauled, and in a few days, when a couple more cows have calved, and got over the job sufficiently to allow their milk to be usable, the season's work is started.

From that on, there is very little difference. At the first, when there are only a few cows in, the boys are turned out in the morning to milk. Eater, as the rest come in, the girls are added, till by-and-bye it is a case of all hands and the cook. Good-bye to all holidays then. It is a difficult job to get away for anything. Morning after morning it is a cry at four, or half-past, “Get up, Jimmy, and get the cuws.” Morning after morning, it is a case of bringing in the cows and milking them from five to seven, or half-past, then snatching some breakfast, and driving away to the creamery with the milk. This going to the creamery is one of the bright bits of the day. Some farmers send their boys with the trap, and some their girls, knowing very well that the latter will not be allowed to do any of the heavy lifting that has to be done. But many go them selves, and meet their neighbours, and yarn while they are waiting for their turns. Always plenty of things to chat about. The merits of Nogi and Stoessel, or of Oyama and Kuropatkin. Why does not Lord Charles Beresford smash the Baltic squadron and let the inquiry come afterwards? That would he all right—provided the inquiry resulted in favour of Britain. The virtues and sins of the Seldom Government, the doings of the County Council, and the roads that want attention, the price of butter-fat, and the extraordinary variations of the “tests.”

As each man’s milk is received, a little sample of it is taken and put into a bottle with some preservative. At the end of the week, his samples are tested by the Babcock tester, and he is paid according to the amount of butter-fat his milk is shown to 1 ave. So the “test” is a very serious matter to him. Nor is it to be wondered at that there should be plenty or growling about it, seeing that, after atb the suppliers have to rely on the hones tv of

the tester. Sj fccidng fairly, however, that is not so often questioned, although in every generation there are men like Nabal- But they believe that there are little points that they don’t know of which affect the testing and pi-event ft from telling the truth about the milk. On the other hand, the testers say it is quite true there are a great many little points which the farmers don’t see to, and these affect the milk and make the testing tell the truth about it. So the matter is likely to stay, a good deal of unbelief and doubt on one side, excusable, perhaps, but annoying, and a good deal of conscious knowledge and of annoyance that farmers do not do their best on the other side.

Home again to find that the bairns have been got off to school, and a second breakfast got ready for the milk driver. Odd jobs through the day, or a visit to the town or the sale-yards, with the memory firmly charged with the thought that there must be a return not later than four o’clock for the evening milking. And SO' the weeks roll on.

As the end of March or beginning of April comes, the work slackens off again* till it dies out for a while. Then it is that the farmer reckons lie has his holiday time. Not that lie has nothing to do. Oh, nol There is always plenty to do on a farm. There are fences to mend, bush to fall, stumps to be got out, paddocks to be ploughed, and so forth, ad infinitum; but the work is not so pressing, as a rule. So, if the family wants to make a trip, there is a chance of doing it—the work can be arranged to suit. If the young folks want a spree, and they generally do, they can have ft. If there is a big function in town, the farmer and his wife can get to it without being too dead tiled to enjoy it. Should the farmer’belong to a co-operative dairy factory company, the annual meeting will be held during these months, and he will go in for a good enjoyment of it. It is the only chance in the year that comes to him of having a good drive at the directors, and he avails himself of it. A man needs a hide like a rhinoceros to'be happy as a director of a co-operative dairy company at the annual meeting. If affairs are not good, the directors are blamed for their not being better ; if they are good, they are blamed for their not being better, all the same. But they are generally re-elected.

There are two questions that naturally come up out of it all, and the first is: “Is it really lighter work than the old style?” Well, there is no question but that it is—for the wife and daughters, who used to have the work of the dairy- on their hands. And, perhaps, it is for the farmer. But it is much harder on the youngsters, who have to milk early and late, and go to school between. It is needful now to get milking over by seven o’clock, so that by half-past or so a start may be made for the creamery. It was not so pressing in the olden days, nor was the milking so heavy. But the early start means tha.' the poor little urchins are turned out long before they ought to be, and; schoolmaster after schoolmaster in dairying districts will tell of children who are dulled and stunted through want of proper rest. There is no question about it, it is hal'd on the kiddies.

And the other question is:“Dices it pay?” Well, there is no question but that it has brought much better returns to many a farm than could ever have been brought by any other system. It has put up handsome, comfortable houseo at many a homestead, instead of whares. It has lifted off many a mortgage. It has well-dressed many a family, and wellfurnished many a dwelling. It has given many a man a cart for farm work and a gig for family use, and the almost certain reply would be: “Yes, it pays all right.” And yet, if it does pay, it pays because the farmer gets his work done for nothing. Any of them would tell you that it would never pay to pay labour. And if there are half-a-dozen or a dozen pairs of hands employed in the milking shed, round which, the whole farm centres, and one man draws the wages of the whole lot, he ought to do well, and he does. But aa a matter of scientific accountancy such farming does not pay. Still, after all, it must be understood that tiie advantage of the father is, generally speaking, the advantage of the whole family, and, in the natural course of events, there will be' a distribution amongst the members of the family in a few years. So, perhaps, the distribution of advantages, unscientific as it is, is not SO' bad as it seems, and the prosperity is undoubtedly real. Let- us be thankful.

The smoke house is used by one Indiana farmer as the place to store his seed. This would doubtless he a good place, ns it could be well dried out here by the aid of a little fire. He claims, however, other advantages beside that of having the corn germinate well. He thinks the smoking that it gets tends to protect it from the cut worms. His house is arranged with racks for the storing of the corn as it is gathered in the fall. After it is stored it is smoked i iiaron-'idy either alone or in connec* ;i •; n Mi.ii the meat.