The kids shipped out on Saturday, to Easter Auction. This is the dark side of dairying, and most people usually don’t make the connection. For every dairy animal that gives milk, she has given birth to at least one offspring. It’s an even chance it’s a male, which makes it useless as a future milker. These unwanted males have to go somewhere, and that somewhere is usually an auction, sooner or later. I don’t make any money on it. I never get back the value of the milk it has taken to raise these kids. It’s just one solution to the issue. I would rather have them take a short trip to the butcher and end their life in a useful fashion on someone’s Easter table, than the longer trip as a possibly abused pet tied to a tree or chased by dogs.
In any case, it’s much quieter and calmer in the barn, and I’m getting lots more milk to make into cheese. I don’t miss them — I still have my bottle babies that will be next year’s milkers. The moms don’t even miss them. Fiona just surprised me by saying that when the kids ship out, it’s like Jody Foster’s character’s experience in Silence of the Lambs, and that made me sad.