Kate Tomlinson: Dairy farming is an international language

Do you know how many ways there are to say “cow”? Seven thousand.

That’s not including the curses muttered when the cows break out or the pet names for your favourite cow (love you Stug!).

DairyNZ suggests that the industry employs about 40,000 people on-farm, and that in some areas such as South Canterbury, one in three jobs are linked to dairy. One giveaway is the pairs of gumboots lined beside shop and pub doors. 

See also: Kate Tomlinson – yurt meal shows real meaning of field to fork

About the author

Kate Tomlinson

Kate was raised on a family livestock farm in County Durham before attending Harper Adams University. Since moving to New Zealand in 2022, she has worked on academic research projects and in the dairy industry. She recently joined Map of Ag as an Agricultural Sustainability Consultant and farms in her spare time.

Read more articles by Kate Tomlinson

Some of those farmworkers are Kiwis, some are European backpackers, passing through on working holiday visas.

Others have just graduated from Harper Adams University, working and travelling before calving starts at home and they have to face the real world.

While some are here for a season, others are here for the long haul, chasing progression, opportunities or just the love of farming.

I have worked with Filipinos, South Africans, Indians, Irish, Germans, Sri Lankans, Nepali and Fijians. I have lived on farm with Argentinians, Chileans and Uruguayans.

At the pub, there are Scottish, Welsh, Austrian, and Costa Ricans. New Zealand’s dairy industry flies more flags than the UN and tells better stories than the National Geographic.

My Sri Lankan colleague dropping calves off would tell me about his family’s banana farm.

My Argentinian friend spoke about how she learned to dairy farm, putting cups on by copying her boss – while not speaking a word of English.

The worn look of my favourite Punjabi colleague returning to work after 25 days of weddings on his trip home.

My South African colleague reminiscing about his Johannesburg childhood while cleaning the calf-feeder. The smell of Dal bhat wafting towards me as I returned home at the end of the day.

I probably needed to talk less and work more. But in a life of repetition and patterns, where the farm becomes your world – how incredible is it that we can transport ourselves across so many continents, countries and cultures?

There might be seven thousand ways to say cow, but dairy is the only language we all understand – regardless of where we’re from.