Life after cows

WINONA, Minn. — On his final day milking cows, Roger Aldinger made sure there were 35 cows left that needed to be milked as a reminder of how he started.

“I wanted to keep that number for my last day because it was the number I had started milking with when I was just starting out as a kid,” Aldinger said. “(I) thought I better start and finish at 35.”

Since the buyer could only take so many cows at a time due to long-distance travel, Aldinger thought that specific number would be a nice send-off to the family’s dairy history. 

On July 20, after 105 years and five generations of dairy farmers, Aldinger sold his final cows, ending a legacy that tied the Aldinger family to dairy.

Beginning in 1919 with Aldinger’s great-grandparents, the farm spanned 150 acres and started with 10 cows in a stanchion barn. Throughout the years, the herd grew, with the final count before the sale being 119 Holsteins housed in a freestall barn. They also grew corn and alfalfa to feed the cows.

A dairy farmer since childhood, Aldinger took over the farm from his father in the mid-1980s, adding his wife, Teresa, to the operation after their marriage in 1991.

The couple has two daughters, Adrianna and Hannah, who helped on the farm when they were growing up. Adrianna and her husband, Josh, helped with the dairy before the sale despite having jobs off the farm.

The decision was 10 months in the making.

“The kids wanted to do other things, which is great, but there was nobody else in our family who wanted to continue on (with the farm),” Aldinger said. “Last fall we made the decision that it was time to move on and have a little more of a relaxed lifestyle.”

The 10 months gave Aldinger the time to process what had to be done and spread out his emotions. When the day came, he was ready.

“It wasn’t quite as emotional as I thought it would be,” he said. “It was hard to see all of them loaded up and moved away, but I was happy with the place they were going to so that helped.”

The bird flu added a sliver of stress to the operation because the cows needed to be tested before their departure.

“The test had to be done within seven days of the cows leaving, and even though I felt they would probably all pass, there was always that fear that one cow wouldn’t,” he said. “Had a cow tested positive, they all would’ve had to be quarantined for 30 days. But at this point, we had run our feed supply down to almost nothing, so it would’ve been a bad situation.”

Fortunately, all of the cows tested negative, leaving the sale on schedule.

For all of Aldinger’s life, there have been chores to be done and cows to milk.

He started his days at 3:30 a.m. by heading to the barn to prepare for milking. Shortly after 4 a.m., he and one of his two hired helpers began to milk, finishing up a little before 7 a.m., when breakfast was served. After that, he would head out and work on whatever needed attention before starting the cycle over at 3:30 in the afternoon.

This schedule continued for years. After the sale, Aldinger’s mental alarm clock hadn’t been made aware of the change.

“It’s different because your mind is set to wake up at the same time all the time,” he said. “Weekdays I get up at 5 a.m. to watch my grandson. But on the weekends, I stay in bed until as late as 7 a.m., which is strange because I’ve never had the opportunity to get up when I wanted before.”

Aldinger has been keeping busy with various projects and remodeling tasks, but the quietness on the farm is hard to ignore.

“There’s not as much traffic now since we don’t have the suppliers and trucks and deliveries coming in,” Aldinger said. “Your support people aren’t stopping all the time now. In some ways, that’s been the most difficult part. I’m a social person, and I miss not having these people come to the farm to converse with (me) on a regular basis.”

One of the things he said he misses the most is being able to educate community members about the importance of farming and the dairy industry.

“I loved showing people the farm and milking process, and just educating people about dairy,” he said. “Over the years, we’ve had school groups visit, our girls’ friends over during milking time and county family night on the farm. I’ll probably miss all of that more than anything else.”

After saying goodbye to the cows, Aldinger and his wife spent the weekend away, allowing themselves to adjust accordingly to the new changes they were about to face. But, through it all, Aldinger has seen that life without dairy will be just fine.

“Everyone I’ve talked to that has exited the dairy industry has told me the same thing — there is life after cows,” he said. “They are correct.”