I took a trip to Irene Dairy Farm this past weekend on the way back from a beautiful Spring Day spent with horses.
Walking through the deli shop, picking up a caffè mocha along the way to the lush green grass to sit under the trees, things looked promising.
Still rushing on endorphins from the day’s activities, I almost expected to find happy cows bouncing around in the grass, smelling daisies and playing tag.
I found no happy cows. I found sad cows. Cows that know nothing other than a cycle of eating/drinking while being chained to their tiny segment of barn, walking to be milked, getting milked. And then again.
Calves are separated from their mothers and lie in their dirty stalls, looking at the passing kids with a look that pierces your heart.
I’m sure that this quaint little farm is a lot better than other mainstream dairy farms, but I didn’t leave a with a warm and fuzzy feeling in my tummy.
The reality of the dairy industry is that it can never been warm and fluffy, given the demand that we put on dairy products. Cows will not be jumping through daisies and laughing with each other.