Pen Pals

We had been discussing the merits and health benefits of drinking raw milk with our son, who had recently purchased some at a heritage farm in our area. He told us it was delicious, and that although he is usually hungry not long after eating, that does not happen if he has a glass of the rich, whole milk. We decided to get some, and asked where the farm was.

"Come on, I'll take you there!" he offered. We got into his SUV and soon were driving across miles of unremarkable, flat terrain of a northern Oklahoma landscape dotted with shabby country houses, the view occasionally relieved by neat homes interspersed with fields of incredibly green winter wheat.

My thoughts drifted, and I mused, "Can you imagine coming out here on a train from the east as a mail-order bride?" thinking of the television production of "Sarah, Plain and Tall," and the loneliness of the prairie. Just then we turned off the road and came upon a large, wooded acreage enclosed by endless rail fences surrounding other enclosures of wire paneling.

A calf caught my eye first, standing stiff-legged with tail twitching, eagerly feeding at the generous udder of its mother. The huge Jersey cow was a picture of maternal patience as she stood monument-like in unflinching stolidity. Her pronounced, angular hips were poking up under the brown coat that spread like a cowhide tent over her bony haunches. Now and then the suckling darted to the other side to try a new angle on a second helping. He lost his footing once, but regained it as he scrambled upward in endearing awkwardness.

A motley crew of varied animals presided over by a sentinel goose eyed us placidly from their pen beside the long driveway. Two or three goats lounged sleepily on and against an earthen embankment. A couple of dogs wagged their tails from inside the fence, a pokey horse shaded himself under a tree, and several hens clucked about to the noise of a honking, long-distance conversation between the sentry and her mate from his shed in the background. It was a vignette worthy of "Charlotte's Web," with the exception of Wilbur, who seemed to be out of pocket.

We got a frosty gallon jug of milk with two inches of cream across its wide top, and I never tasted anything so good! What a pleasure to see contented, happy animals living and producing in God's natural setting. No wonder the milk is good! I'm thinking of seeing if they sell goat milk!