Got Robot? Dairy Farmer Sees ‘Milking Parlor’ as Tourist Stop

For decades, as his own industry struggled, seventh-generation dairy farmer Clark Hinsdale II watched visitors flock to the nearby Shelburne Museum to admire its vast American art collection.

Hinsdale also was envious as travelers converged on the Vermont Teddy Bear Co. to create cuddly, customized stuffed animals, and crowded the Ben & Jerry’s ice cream factory to taste the latest flavors.

Now Hinsdale hopes to add his dairy robots to the list of attractions in a state where tourism is the leading industry. Although widely used in Europe, the mechanized milking systems are the first of their kind in New England, and one of several dozen scattered across North America.

The contraptions are big and cumbersome, with none of the quirky charm of robots that inhabit science-fiction movies. Each device is large enough to accommodate a 1,200-pound cow, with moving parts that vaguely resemble an X-ray machine.

Hinsdale bought four of the robotic “milking parlors,” but only one is set up for public viewing. The 72-year-old farmer said the technology he acquired last spring has boosted production while reducing costs.

Outside a new 37,000-square-foot barn, Hinsdale put up a sign announcing tours at $5 a head and provided parking for dozens of cars. Inside, he built a catwalk so visitors can observe his 236 Holsteins without having to slog through messy straw. An elaborate air filtration system cuts down the smell.

The balcony viewing area also keeps guests separate from the cows, which are susceptible to many human bacteria. In the milking parlor open to the public, paying guests watch the robot -- and the cows -- from behind a glass wall. The cow’s head is not visible, so the animal is not distracted or disturbed during the milking process.

“We’re anticipating busloads of people,” Hinsdale said, though the throngs have yet to arrive at this farm 20 miles south of Burlington.

Frank Bryan, author of “Real Vermonters Don’t Milk Goats” and other books about Green Mountain State culture, said Hinsdale’s use of electronic dairy technology reflected the spirit of a state that, “while rural, has never been backward.”

Noting that “the first patent in America was issued to a Vermonter, for processing potash” (a kind of ash used to make lye), Bryan said, “Our history does not fit our bucolic image.”

As for the tourist-attraction component, “I think Hinsdale is on to something,” Bryan said. “He is following a tradition of bringing people in to Vermont to watch our rural ways.”

At the dairy farm where he worked as a young man, Bryan explained, “we had cabins out in back. New Yorkers would come up and stay for two weeks so they could be part of farm life.”

Hinsdale said visitors who expected to see “R2D2 running around the barn” would be disappointed when the dairy robot turned out to be a stationary unit made out of gleaming stainless steel. The Lely automatic milking system, from the Netherlands, looks clinical and has a cow-wash as part of the process.

Wearing neckbands that identify them by name -- Penelope, Marilyn, Clara, Colleen -- the cows appear untroubled as they pass through what amounts to a 24-hour bovine assembly line. Data encoded in the neckband tells the robot the animal’s age and medical history.

The robot weighs each cow and checks the milk for infection, steps that take far more time when a human performs them, Hinsdale said. A red laser light finds the cow’s teats and places cups on them for milking. The cows are rewarded not only with the relief they get from milking, but with a treat made from grain.

The operation is recorded on closed-circuit TV -- not so the tourists can take home a souvenir tape, but so the farmer can ensure quality control and efficiency.

“You’re looking at about six minutes on the average for each cow, from when the robot starts to when it finishes,” Hinsdale said.

Hinsdale learned about the milking system when he went to Canada to meet with an architect who specializes in designing barns. Hinsdale came back not only with a blueprint for a new building, but with a plan to invigorate his business.

“I went up there knowing I either had to get out of the business or I had to get more efficient,” said Hinsdale, who owns several farms that total about 2,500 acres. “I had three barns and I was still losing money.”

Though each robot costs about $180,000, the system intrigued him so much that Hinsdale bought four of them. Hinsdale said dairy-farm labor was scarce in a state with less than 3% unemployment: “You can’t find kids to milk any more. Who wants to work 60 hours a week at a job that ruins your knees and your hips?”

Vermont Secretary of Agriculture Steve Kerr called Hinsdale’s robot-farm “a cool thing” that introduced a new element to dairy farming, the dominant portion of the state’s half-billion-dollar agricultural industry.

Kerr described Hinsdale and his business partner, son Clark III, as “pioneers, bringing the most modern of technology to our cornerstone industry.”

About 90% of Vermont’s dairy farms have fewer than 200 cows, Kerr said, “and they seem to be managing just fine without robots. But this is now one more good option.”

He said the robots work best on a large farm such as Hinsdale’s. “These robots are scaled to handle about 60 cows each,” he said. “Obviously, for smaller herds where family labor is available, they are an expense that is not needed.”

Kerr dismissed the notions that robotic dairy farming might damage Vermont’s steadfastly quaint image, or that cows milked by robots might be less than contented. Many large dairy farms include some automated features, he said, albeit without robots.

On the contrary, Kerr said, as Vermont builds up its agri-tourism industry -- where visitors bunk in with farmers to savor country life -- the dairy robots could become star attractions.

“These are smart, simple robots,” he said. “And they are cool to watch.”

Hinsdale said he had little use for critics who accuse him of running a factory farm.

“These cows seem incredibly calm and happy,” he said.

In another section of the barn, Hinsdale has installed an automated device that feeds calves, also using sensors to register each animal’s nutritional needs. He has even grander plans to use a silo shaped like a giant marshmallow to make electricity out of cow manure.

The process is complicated. Hinsdale insists that the manure tower will not stink and will be “totally neighbor-friendly.”

He promised that the manure-to-electricity section of the farm would soon be part of the tour.