The Hancock-Henderson Quill, Inc.
You know, sometimes you can actually learn something during daytime TV.
The other day I flipped on the TV to catch some news while I had a quick snack.
There was a lady discussing “prosopagnosia” or facial recognition blindness. She was telling the interviewer how as a little girl she struggled to recognize even her own mother when she came to pick her up after school.
As a young lady, she would go out on a date and have a wonderful time. The next day she would run into the gentleman at the store and not recognize him. He thought she was brushing him off and never called back for a second date.
She couldn’t recognize or remember a person’s face. She would recognize a person by their hairstyle or the color of their shirt or where they sat at the table, but people would change those “cues” and she “forgot” what they looked like.
Watching a movie was frustrating because she couldn’t remember the faces of the characters in the story.
As I listened to her story, I caught myself nodding my head in agreement. I understood what it felt like to see something and within minutes not be able to recognize or remember what you saw.
I know, you’re probably wondering how this relates to life on our farm, but I think I have a different form of facial recognition blindness. I hardly ever forget a face. I may not remember the right name to go with the face, but I usually have a gnawing feeling that I “know” that face. What I have is cow recognition blindness. I struggle remember the markings of our animals on a daily basis.
Mark has a hard time understanding this disorder. He can vividly describe an animal he saw at someone’s farm 20 years ago.
He can close his eyes and “see” the cows he grew up milking when we had a grade herd. There are other dairy people who have this same gift.
I know guys and gals who will recognize a cow at the 4-H State Fair show because they saw it as a calf three years earlier.
I don’t think there is a cow or calf these cattle people have seen that they couldn’t remember.
Ask them what they had for supper the night before and then they may struggle to recall what was on the table.
I probably shouldn’t admit this, but to me our cattle all look the same. I see big framey animals with different combinations and patterns of black and white.
Calves confuse me even more because they haven’t created any cues for me to remember yet.
Ask me which calves and yearlings are in the show string and I will have a blank look on my face.
I can’t keep straight who is showing who but in my defense, we have six kids showing animals out of our herd and that information they need to keep straight, not me.
My saving grace is a tie-stall barn. I can walk down the barn and know exactly where everyone should be standing without looking at the name cards hanging above their stall.
I recognize when one of the switch cows have plowed into the wrong stall because their rump looks out of order.
I recognize the animals by their rumps and udders because that is the end that greets me every day as I walk down the barn and when I milk. Give me a side view or a head shot and I’m lost.
Put a fresh cow in a stall and I will eventually “recognize” or remember who she is. Ask me who is standing in the dry lot and I can’t tell if she is Choir, Chorus or Circus.
Like the lady with facial recognition blindness, I also look for “cues” to remember animals. Chilly’s ears were frozen off as a calf and nubs are all that remain to frame her face. Sweetheart has a white heart on her black forehead. Clarinet’s ear is missing a slice of her left ear where her ear tag was ripped out.
The guys can still remember a cow named “Horse” because she had such long hair on her neck that it looked like a horse’s mane.
I can’t use that cue because today every cow in the barn gets body clipped.
When I help Mark load up springers to bring back to our place, he will tell me by name which animals we are looking for.
I start to look for the ones who’s udder is starting to plump up and has a very uncomfortable pregnant waddle.
What really throws a monkey wrench in my system is a bull by the name of Shottle. He has two types of daughters. A few are solid black bodied cows. They look nothing like the sire.
The majority of his daughters look like him, white cows with black speckles. It looks like an elephant wrapped a paint brush in its trunk and started shaking her head, splattering paint all over. These cows look like walking displays of abstract art.
We have three Shottle daughters from Cookie milking in the barn. If they didn’t stand in different stalls, I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between Gingersnap, Chocolate Chip and Snickerdoodle.
A fourth sister, Sugar Cookie, is due any day but at least she has big black patches and less speckles.
I shouldn’t get her confused with her sisters. Maybe with someone else, but not with her sisters.
As a side note, here is something to ponder. Are Holsteins white cows with black markings or are they black cows with white markings?
And will someone please explain to me the exact ratio of black and white a cow needs to be in order to be considered 50/50.
We seem to have a difference of opinion around our place. Just a little something to think about as you discover your “cues” to recognition blindness.
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As their four children pursue dairy careers off the family farm, Natalie and Mark are starting a new adventure of milking registered Holsteins just because they like good cows on their farm north of Rice, Minnesota.
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