Flipper has been known to aim for the eyes with her tail, and Gidget likes to fidget.
Still, to Shayne Williams, it's a privilege to care for the Holstein and "Jersey girl" at Wheeler Farm — one of the last places in Salt Lake County where city kids can not only learn where milk comes from, they can help fill the bucket.
Twice a day, seven days a week, the farm's two dairy cows need to be milked. In the barn, there are no automatic milking machines — only a wooden milking stool, a metal bucket and several sets of small hands.
For 50 cents, Wheeler Farm visitors line up to help Shayne and his crew fill buckets with warm milk for the farm's three calves, two piglets and an occasional cat.
"Most kids have no idea where milk comes from until they come here," says Shayne, 35, a lanky, patient man who is the historic farm's "head farmer." He chuckles as he recalls the 14-year-old girl who took one look at the milk being squeezed from Gidget's udder and turned pale.
"She thought that milk came from Harmon's (grocery)," he says. "Right then, she vowed to never drink another glass." Shayne didn't have the heart to tell her the truth about ice cream.
Hoping to share a few stories about life in the slow lane at Wheeler Farm, Shayne invited me to join him and new farmer John Blackwell for a Free Lunch chat in the old brick milk barn, where they spend much of their time.
John, 18, who recently graduated from Granite High School — home of the Farmers — has a tattoo and pierced ears and does not fit the image of somebody who spends his days cleaning pens and milking a temperamental Holstein. But farming is his dream job, and Wheeler Farm is the only place for miles where a young person can find work as a farmhand.
"It's a disappearing occupation," says John, "so it's important to have places like this. It's hard work, but it's rewarding to help care for the animals."
Of course, some are easier to tend to than others. After John worked up a sweat filling a five-gallon bucket with milk from Flipper ("She's like squeezing two tennis balls," he says), the 1,800-pound Holstein finally succeeded in kicking the bucket over, spilling milk across the floor for the farm cats.
"She's a belligerent one," says Shayne, who has been flipped in the face with a wet tail too many times to remember and now ties Flipper's tail to a post before milking her. "We have a turkey like that, too. He'll take you on, anytime. Every animal here has its own personality and a few of them will give you nothing but grief."
To keep Flipper happy, Shayne doesn't allow schoolchildren to milk her. That honor is reserved for Gidget, a fawn-colored Jersey who is mild and tolerant, providing that she's rewarded with plenty of sweet hay.
Shayne, a rhythmic milker who is so quick on the draw that Gidget is empty in less than 10 minutes, often wonders what it must have been like in the early days of the farm's Rosebud Dairy, when 60 cows had to be milked by hand.
"That must have been something," he says. "Sometimes, when I come in here, I feel like I'm stepping back in time. You forget that the farm is surrounded by hotels and busy roads. I look at all the trees, I breathe in the fresh air and the smells of the farm and I feel lucky to be here."
So does Gidget. "She has the easy life, grazing and lounging all day," says Shayne, patting the cow's rump once he's done milking.
"Good job, sweetheart," he says, "and thanks for being so patient. We'll see you back here, tomorrow."
Have a story? Let's hear it over lunch. E-mail your name, phone number and what you'd like to talk about to freelunch@desnews.com. You can also write me at the Deseret Morning News, P.O. Box 1257, Salt Lake City, UT 84110.