Among
the doubts and fears that had assailed me, the idea that I might have
trouble with these cows never occurred to my mind. During my childhood
my mother had owned several. I had often seen them milked. One had
only to seize the teats firmly, pull quietly downward, and two streams
of rich milk would follow. Oh, yes! I could do that easily. But when I
arrived at the pen, a tin bucket in one hand, a milking-stool in the
other, and letting down the bars, crept inside, the cows eyed me with
evident distrust and even shook their horns in a menacing manner which
quite alarmed me. However, I marched up to the one which appeared the
mildest-looking, and sitting down by her side, seized two of the
teats, fully expecting to hear the musical sound of two white
streamlets as they fell upon the bottom of the tin bucket. _Not a drop
could I get_. My caressing words and gentle remonstrances had not the
slightest effect. If it is possible for an animal to feel and show
contempt, it was revealed in the gaze that cow cast upon me as she
turned her head to observe my manoeuvres. I had heard that some cows
have a bad habit of holding back their milk.
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