Milk, milk everywhere, nor any drop to drink!

With apologies to Samuel Taylor Coleridge, may he rest in peace, for changing his poetic words a little.

Can you see the cows lying on the remains of their previous hay bale in the light of early dawn?  That has been their bed for several days.  All seven of them, from small to large, lie down in that tiny area together.  When they get up, they empty their bowels and bladders in that same spot.  Given the choice of laying in cold, frozen snow or the mucky mix of hay, dirt, and manure, they choose the muck.  
A few days ago I put Jody's calf in the stall overnight and went out to milk Jody the next morning.  I knew she would be a dirty mess, so I took along a bucket of warm, soapy water, a rag, and a towel, with which to clean her udder.
You couldn't have cleaned that mess up with a pressure washer!  That stuff was stuck like concrete, not just on her udder, but all over her sides.  I gave up and turned her out with Jenny, who is perfectly capable of taking every drop of her mother's milk and doesn't mind consuming a little dirt and manure.  
I have two milk cows, and both of them are dirtier than any pig I've ever seen.  So today we'll be out and about, and I will buy some milk.   
Jody is limping again, pretty severely.  I imagine walking through the deep snow aggravated her old injury.  I hope it's temporary.  At least if we decide to butcher her now, we have her heifer calf, thanks to my taking Cliff's advice a few months ago.