My husband is a sport. He has milked Annabelle four time since August- with me standing right there. Tuesday night, before my mini-vacation, he did a trial run without me. I cozy-ed up with Dizzy, That Naughty Little Mini-Horse, and spectated from a distance.
Oh, did Annabelle give him the horrors! Not enough trouble to call her a mean cow – just enough let him know who was boss. She lifted her foot a few times – yes, you could call it a kick – but it didn’t have any real omph behind it. Then she stepped back as far as she could, only stepping forward after he had re-organized pail and stool to her new spot. Then she pranced around – testing how quickly he could move his toes and buckets. She thought about whacking him with her tail – but didn’t. She beat the heck out me with that tail the first two months I milked her. Man – she knows how to turn that seemingly benign appendage into a weapon! For some reason she stopped her tail mid-swing and decided he didn’t need that particular punishment of hers – perhaps because it wasn’t covered in poop?!
She did treat him to her amazing hip-check-off-the-stool-move. I never figured out how the heck she did that until the other night. I can’t tell you how many times I found myself sitting on the floor with no clue how she did it – flipped me right off the stool as fast as you could blink. Whoosh! I thought it was some sort of hip check but know now she swings her mammoth Jersey belly into motion – ba-da-dang- ba-da- BOOM – off the stool goes the milker! Ha!
Fortunately my DH came off the floor laughing or I might not have gotten my break. It would be hard to be mad at such a skillful move but it is a tad bit frightening to be on the receiving end of such skill from such a large beast.
Tuesday was the only night she put out this kind of effort. He kept with it and she never tried anything like it with him again. Hip-hip-hurray- I can occasionally get away!