June is Dairy Month. It has been since 1937.
Not much is said about it these days, but when I was growing up in the 1950s-60s, Dairy Month was a big deal. Maybe it wasn’t the same everywhere, but in our neighborhood dairy farming involved just about everyone I knew — or so it seemed.
If you’ve lived in these parts long you recall when black and white cows (Holstein-Friesian) dominated farm pastures, with a few brown (Jersey and Brown Swiss) and spotted (Guernsey and Ayrshire) herds here and there.
My dad was Jersey breeder, so I was most familiar with those small, gentle cows with high butterfat numbers. Most grade A dairies, though, favored big Holstein cows for their high milk production, despite much less butterfat.
These days, though, we don’t see many of any dairy breed. In the waning years of the 20th century hundreds of Ozarks pastures became host to black “momma cows,” as well as “white-face” (Herefords) and various red-haired beef breeds, both domestic and foreign.
As a result of the widespread shift from dairy to beef, Missouri has become one of the nation’s leading beef states with 1.8 million beef cows.
By contrast, Missouri dairy cows numbers have declined to around 60,000. That’s down from 226,000 as recently as 1990.
It’s not surprising many Ozarks farmers have switched from dairy to beef. Over my years writing articles on dairy farmers, one consistent theme was the narrow profit margin. Though dairy farming is physically demanding, few folks I knew complained about the work. It was the challenge of making it pay. Despite loving the lifestyle — as well as the cows — unpredictable markets, extreme weather, high feed costs and hosts of other factors, beef production became a more attractive option.
Beef cows don’t require hands-on attention twice every day.
For many former dairy producers, switching to be became a former of retirement — a less demanding way to use their pastures.
I can’t pretend to know everything about dairy farming. I’m not a dairy farmer. I was raised milking cows morning and night, but I never had to make a living at it.
I can however, tip my hat to anyone still milking cows. I’m often postulated that any successful dairy farmer could manage any of America’s major corporations — not that they would want to.
Dairy month, for me, evokes warm memories of laying my head against the flank of Ol’ Susan and filling the bucket between my knees with warm, frothy milk — one squirt after another.
Obviously, I’m still a victim of the romance of 1950s dairy farming. I still get excited when I come across a herd of Jersey cows, and I still treasure a scrap of paper from the 1950s identifying me as a junior member of the Jersey Cattle Club.
I may not be a dairy farmer, but I’m sure there’s still a hint of it in my DNA.
And, I still love those hardworking folks for whom “Dairy Month” is every month.
Copyright 2026, James E. Hamilton, P.O.Box 801, Buffalo, MO 65622
