Meet Gertrude

Even though the dairy industry insists that there's no difference between organic, non-organic, and raw milk, we've probably all seen the commercials for California dairy with the tag line, "Great milk comes from happy cows." My cow's name is Gertrude. According to the farmer who milks her every day, she's a very gentle cow and to date has never attempted to kick him. Good girl. When I met her on the farm's "Shareholder Appreciation Day: A Chance to Give thanks for Udders," she was wearing a rather rumpled winter coat and a blue bow on her tail so that I could identify her. She rotates through various pastures with the other cows and a flock of deliciously free-range chicken friends, who are tasked with scattering the manure into more effective fertilizer. I know that she's tested negative for TB, and Virginia is a brucellosis-free state, so there's no worry there. She's also old enough that she would have died already if she carried Johne's disease. She is fed a little grain each day (it makes milking time rather exciting for a cow), but spends most of her time grazing.

I'll admit, this is all still a little weird to me. You have to understand that about three months ago I was a "normal" milk drinker. My parents don't even buy organic. I absolutely did not get milk from a cow with a name and an easily identifiable diet.

Yet I found myself driving the two hours from Charlottesville to Amelia in order to see my cow first hand, because that's what this is all about, right? A direct relationship with your food source, human and animal. And if you're going to get raw milk, I think you'd better know where it's from and who is handling it before it gets to you. Plus it was an adventure, and an excuse to road trip to a new part of Virginia at a time when gas prices had fallen to well below $2.

I enjoy celebrating the small farm. What seems like a bizarre relationship to many of us now was not just a few decades ago. My parents had easy access to raw dairy growing up, and some of my older cousins grew up drinking raw dairy. More to the point, they grew up drinking milk and eating other food that came from a farm they were familiar with. Although this is anecdotal evidence, none of my family members are dead yet (at least on account of dairy-related diseases), and I'm not either.