'Top of the Hill' by Shane Brown

Today isn’t a normal day at Brown Family Dairy.

Right now, I am the only one on top of the hill. The place is silent unless you hear vacuum pumps sucking the air from a compressor rumbling behind the milk parlor. Its noisy pumps repeatedly and consistently uttered “teeew-teeew-teeew-teeew!”

No kids are running around playing and no one is stopping by to visit. Paula is not bottling and Jo is not running from truck to truck. Billy Ray is out of sight and not tending to the beef cattle. Big D hasn’t stopped by and neither has J.J.

I’ve pushed through 24 dairy cows and I have three more cows left to milk. Jo is coming back from Fulton County from delivering milk and Big D is off in a hay field cutting or baling hay. They’re watching the same sun I am, even though we’re scattered with different tasks in different places.

Billy Ray and Paula see our sun even though they’re far from us. They’re in Missouri for a family get away: a much needed trip with their kids that’s hard to take in the summertime. They have worries about home, but they have hope and confidence too. They are trusting us three with the farm: trusting us with their livelihood.

I just finished washing out the milking system while closing down the dairy and Jo has pulled up from his drive. He leans out of the truck with his cowboy hat on as he asked me if everything has run smoothly today. I tell him yes, and he shakes my hand. He has the same handshake Billy Ray would have given me too. Jo is Billy Ray’s right-hand man who helps him run his and Paula’s dairy. He knows every step they know and they all are starting to teach me too.

I’m learning, and they see that I’m willing. I don’t mind because they’re my family. I don’t mind because it’s out of love, too.

I haven’t heard from Big D and we don’t have to. He runs the hay side of the farm business, and has for years. I’m pretty sure he tells Billy Ray what he is doing or what he needs to do. Billy Ray trusts him and always will.

The last and least of my favorite duties is feeding the hogs which I do after I finish milking the cows. Billy Ray laughs at me when I fuss about the smell and the work. He reassures me “it smells like money” to him. But, tonight Jo is helping me feed them and I welcome his help.

He wrestles the 15-gallon water jugs that wets the hogs’ thirst. He tosses them into a pool of water and the hogs dive in instantly soaking and sucking. I grab feed bags of corn and empty them into the driest ground I could find. That’s simple to me. The 15-gallons are not.

We ride back home from the pasture with the windows down as we talk about other things besides work, cows and hogs. I slosh my truck tires through mud, muck and cattle gates. The radio plays a good tune and a breeze eases our sweat. We cut off lights to the dairy and shake hands again. I tell him I will see him in the morning for my run to Clarksdale to Magnolia Sweet Ice Cream. He thanks me for the help, but I thank him more.

Billy Ray and Paula do more than me. I’ve had fun milking cows at night all week for them while they have been gone. I actually love doing it for them. But, like I said earlier, it hasn’t been the same. It hasn’t been normal.

I’ve had friends and folks show up all week to check up on me or hang out while I milk. They knew Billy Ray and Paula were gone, but something has been missing. I didn’t realize what it was until they showed up back home today.

I pull up milk cows tonight as they unpacked the suburban. The first person I see is Molly and she waves and smiles so big. I park my truck and she runs to hug and kiss me on the cheek. I ask her what was the funniest thing about the trip, and she tells me that everything was fun. I walk into the house and Sarah runs to hug me. Harris walks by and typically tells me to leave his property. I smile and his serious expression remains. I see Paula smile, already working with the laundry. We speak and smile as I walk out of the house to the barn for yet another milking task.

I prep the rooms and readied for the cows to come in. I walk outside of the milking parlor to get a feed sack when I see Billy Ray come across the yard. I yell at him that it’s time to work. He yells back, “You’re damn right, let’s go!”

I ain’t on top of the hill alone anymore.

Shane Brown is a HottyToddy.com contributor and the son of noted author Larry Brown. Shane is an Oxford native with Yocona and Tula roots. Shane is a graduate of Mississippi State University. He has two children — Maddux, age 9, and Rilee, age 7 — and makes his home at “A Place Called Tula.” He can be reached at msushanebrown@yahoo.com.

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‘Top of the Hill’ by Shane Brown

Today isn’t a normal day at Brown Family Dairy.

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‘Top of the Hill’ by Shane Brown

Today isn’t a normal day at Brown Family Dairy.

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