BIG Dairy Farm--
Nearly 270 head of cattle live and feed in this barn (above) which encloses just under one acre on a thousand acre dairy farm near Loudonville while a farm hand (right) herds the cows to the milk parlor.
High school friend from over 50 years ago, Dick Cleckner, (lower left) visits his sister, the farm’s owner, each summer for his dose of “Life on the Ohio farm,” he smiles enthusiastically.
The farm is not identified in this story because “Sis” is a bit nervous about potential world-wide exposure via the internet.
She sits in the sunlight of her living room window while a squadron of humming birds brings her pleasure just outside. The old, hand-crank telephone on the kitchen wall reminds her of time gone by as a loose cow meanders across the front lawn.
“The boys did a little work and forgot to turn the electric fence on,” she explains.
There are five barns on this farm stuffed with 300 pound bales of straw just to serve as bedding for the herd.
It takes 18 tractors, skid loaders and assorted machines to keep this milk factory-on-the-hoof running efficiently; manned mostly by two hired hands, Cleckner’s sister’s son and his two sons.
The cows are milked 3 times daily in a near continuous 12 hour rotation.
A refrigerated tank truck with a capacity to hold 66,000 pounds of milk sits beside the milk house ready to receive each day’s production. It fills about every three days and is immediately replaced by an empty tanker.
A calf trying to be born (below) gets a boost with a rope line around its emerging legs while momma cow struggles with a difficult delivery. This new arrival will be one of some 300 born on the farm in an average year.
Sis’s son, who runs the operation, summed up the economics of farm life this way: “It costs us $100,000 to put out the crops to support this farm. Just one serious drought and that could be gone,” he said quietly.
Topping that issue is the fact milk prices paid to the farmer are half what they were just a few years ago.
“It’s the only life I’ve ever known,” he smiled as he climbed into his tractor. “I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone, but, I wouldn’t trade with anyone either.”
Nearly 270 head of cattle live and feed in this barn (above) which encloses just under one acre on a thousand acre dairy farm near Loudonville while a farm hand (right) herds the cows to the milk parlor.
High school friend from over 50 years ago, Dick Cleckner, (lower left) visits his sister, the farm’s owner, each summer for his dose of “Life on the Ohio farm,” he smiles enthusiastically.
The farm is not identified in this story because “Sis” is a bit nervous about potential world-wide exposure via the internet.
She sits in the sunlight of her living room window while a squadron of humming birds brings her pleasure just outside. The old, hand-crank telephone on the kitchen wall reminds her of time gone by as a loose cow meanders across the front lawn.“The boys did a little work and forgot to turn the electric fence on,” she explains.
There are five barns on this farm stuffed with 300 pound bales of straw just to serve as bedding for the herd.
It takes 18 tractors, skid loaders and assorted machines to keep this milk factory-on-the-hoof running efficiently; manned mostly by two hired hands, Cleckner’s sister’s son and his two sons.
The cows are milked 3 times daily in a near continuous 12 hour rotation.
A refrigerated tank truck with a capacity to hold 66,000 pounds of milk sits beside the milk house ready to receive each day’s production. It fills about every three days and is immediately replaced by an empty tanker.
A calf trying to be born (below) gets a boost with a rope line around its emerging legs while momma cow struggles with a difficult delivery. This new arrival will be one of some 300 born on the farm in an average year.
Sis’s son, who runs the operation, summed up the economics of farm life this way: “It costs us $100,000 to put out the crops to support this farm. Just one serious drought and that could be gone,” he said quietly.
Topping that issue is the fact milk prices paid to the farmer are half what they were just a few years ago.
“It’s the only life I’ve ever known,” he smiled as he climbed into his tractor. “I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone, but, I wouldn’t trade with anyone either.”
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