Kurt Meyer writes a weekly column for the Nora Springs – Rockford Register and the Substack newsletter Showing Up, where this essay (originally published in two parts) first appeared. He served as chair of the executive committee (the equivalent of board chair) of Americans for Democratic Action, America’s most experienced liberal organization.

It seems I lucked out. I don’t know what the statute of limitations is on the illegal sale of raw milk, but I’m about to make a confession. If my violation is so heinous that I simply cannot “run out the clock” on this and enforcement is still possible after five-plus decades, then I’m in big trouble.

My confession: I was part of what, in retrospect, can only be called a raw-milk “syndicate” for maybe five years in my mid-to-late teens. Co-conspirators were my parents and at least one brother, my back-up milker, who always seemed somewhat less helpful than I wished. My customers, beneficiaries of my crime ring, were nearby farm families, plus a thirsty household in Mona, and two guys Dad worked with at the plant… Hormel’s in Austin, Minnesota.

Yeah, we smuggled contraband raw milk across state lines.

Going off to college in the early 1970s meant I extracted myself from this burgeoning dairy enterprise. Late fall 1972, I walked up to the Luther College bursar’s office on the second floor of “Main” and wrote a check for second semester costs. (Presumably, first semester was covered by a check sent before I arrived in August.) This check, however, was drawn on my account, the proceeds of my venture: countless evenings in the barn; positioned by, almost under, one of four cows; pail held by my knees; a rhythmic, simultaneous pull-squeeze, pull-squeeze, pull-squeeze pinging warm, foamy liquid into a shiny silver pail. When I hurried, I could milk four cows in 35 minutes. 

My capital assets: a Brown Swiss, a Guernsey, a Holstein, and a Jersey… eventually. The Brown Swiss was my first and my favorite, occupying the stanchion closest to the door. I had accompanied Dad to kindly Cliff’s farm just north of Mona, three of us ambling out into the pasture to inspect this prospective purchase. I think I was eleven. The reason I was tagging along? Not only were we hopeful of buying a milk cow to help feed a growing family, Dad was about to go on second shift, 3:00-11:00PM. It all dawned on me. He’d handle morning chores; his eldest son, yours truly, would assume evening duties.

The only cattle I had known before that day were beef cattle. This Brown Swiss, bred for dairy purposes, struck me as being… somewhat bony. I mentioned this to Dad as we traveled home. “Yeah, maybe we’ll fatten her up a bit.” He obviously wasn’t too concerned. This nameless bovine (we only named pets) was part of my life for the next seven years. I’d stand at the barn door, beckoning her in from the pasture, imitating Dad’s deep “commm-bosss” with my adolescent call, minimally an octave higher. If cattle can be amused, this might have done it.

Docile, except whenever a sore “gripper” made things challenging, then this critter zealously guarded her udder. Without warning, she’d lift her closest hoof and “pedal” once or twice before settling again. Occasionally, she overcame my sturdy defense, knocking the pail out from between my legs. Or, she’d step artfully smack dab in the middle of the bucket, which meant the cats ate well.  

I wrote above that I “lucked out,” in part because no one ever got sick from drinking our unpasteurized milk. At least, not that I know about. We sold raw milk fifty cents a gallon at a time when the store-bought variety was about $1.32 / gallon. Sure, we were careful; our fresh milk was always strained through a paper filter. I don’t recall, however, conversations about assumption of risk from consuming raw milk. Was buyer beware merely understood? It was a very different time.  

These memories surface now because President-elect Donald Trump’s nominee to head the federal Health and Human Service Department is a raw milk drinker and advocate. Robert F. Kennedy’s nomination prods me to reflect on issues regarding raw milk, legal in Iowa since mid-2023. I’ll write more about this next week, addressing questions that include how much involvement government should have in our lives.

This all assumes I’ve not been arrested. Stay tuned. 

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Last week, I admitted my primary youthful law-breaking activity: selling unpasteurized (raw) milk to families willing to pony up fifty cents per gallon, a price less than half that for milk bought at a grocery store. This was prompted by growing interest currently in raw milk – fans raving about the taste, the freshness, the health benefits (which are questionable), and lower costs, due largely to fewer steps between dairy and drinker. Nostalgia may be a factor, too; many column respondents recalled raw milk from childhood while living on or at least closer to the land.

Selling raw milk was unlawful in the 1960s and 1970s. It’s now legal in Iowa and surrounding states… on-farm transactions, plus sales through delivery, at farmers markets, wherever producer-to-consumer exchanges happen.

But is raw milk safe? Ah, a more complex question. Additional safety questions have surfaced as bird flu virus – H5N1 – was traced to retail raw milk in California.

Days earlier, a child tested positive for bird flu for the first time in U.S. history, a mild case, fortunately. About the same time, a British Columbia teenager was infected and is in critical but stable condition. Genetic sequencing of this strain indicates mutations that make it more likely to infect humans. Yikes! These instances are disconcerting because almost all recent (still rare) U.S. human cases have been dairy or poultry farm workers with mild symptoms. These two examples are outliers.

Don’t be fooled by the name. Bird flu virus has been detected in mammals, including dairy cattle, cats, a backyard pig, and mice. My focus today is cattle, and milk: fifteen states, including Iowa, Minnesota, and Wisconsin, have all had viral outbreaks in dairy cattle, involving 616 herds. In Iowa, H5N1 has been detected in thirteen dairy herds in O’Brien, Sioux, and Plymouth counties. The risk of getting bird flu from drinking raw milk is relatively low at present. However, on dairy farms, H5N1 “seems to spread through ingestion of contaminated raw milk and direct contact with infected animals and milking equipment.”

It was unsettling to read two recent columns in the Washington Post by Leana Wen, a public health expert, one entitled “Why we should start worrying about bird flu” and the other headlined, “3 bird flu developments to track as human cases increase” (subtitled “H5N1 is more widespread than we thought”).

Key points from that second piece: 1) Many human cases aren’t being diagnosed; 2) Some new cases don’t involve farm animals; 3) There will be a change in administration. Quoting Wen on this third point, “…(the) new administration has, at best, a spotty record when it comes to pandemic response. Decisions could soon be made by Robert F. Kennedy Jr., … (with) a long history of anti-vaccine advocacy.”

Okay, back to milk. (Focus, Kurt!) As you already know, since I know you read last week’s column, RFK, Jr. is not only anti-vax, he’s also a raw milk proponent. Might a Venn diagram show significant overlap in those who think this way?

Currently, the U.S. has about five million vaccines doses to counter H5N1. The goal is to have 10 million, which probably won’t happen until early 2025. Immunity requires two doses, meaning five million people could be vaccinated, about two percent of the U.S. population. (The vaccine’s projected effectiveness ranges from 30 to 70 percent.)

Big challenge: The H5N1 virus now infecting cattle has mutated and is different than H5N1 viruses in poultry in 1997 and early 2000s, which may have killed up to fifty percent of people infected in Asia, Africa and the Middle East. It’s illogical to amass huge vaccine stockpiles when it’s highly likely the virus will mutate again before infecting people.

Wait a minute! What if we intervened earlier in the process? What if we pasteurized milk, thereby killing bacteria and viruses including salmonella, E. coli, listeria… and H5N1? Indeed, that would eliminate all these potential problems… but there’s a give-up. People will surely moan that milk “doesn’t taste as good, is not as fresh, costs more, etc., etc.”

A quick history lesson: Pasteurization, named for French chemist Louis Pasteur (1822 – 1895), has been happening in the U.S. since the 1920s. According to the CDC, within thirty years, widespread pasteurization “led to dramatic reductions in the number of people getting sick.” Safe and effective. Nevertheless, raw milk advocates persist.

So, some straight talk. While there are many knowledgeable authorities, I’ll let Dr. Marion Nestle, professor emerita of nutrition, food studies, and public health, New York University, speak for me. According to Dr. Nestle, the raw milk trend has food safety experts, “Absolutely horrified… pasteurizing milk is one of the great public health achievements of the 20th century.” Nestle theorizes raw milk is “part of the whole anti-authoritarian, anti-science, anti-expertise waves we’re seeing in this country right now.”

I concur. I want nothing to do with raw milk in 2024. The risk is simply too great—and growing—with H5N1 adding yet another major danger to an already long list.

Let me close on yet another history note, perhaps somewhat ironic nowadays. The word vaccine comes from the cowpox virus vaccinia, the word derived from Latin, vacca for cow. Like me, you may vaguely remember stories about Edward Jenner in the late 18^th century… and milkmaids avoiding smallpox. Going back to Jenner, the connection between cattle, disease, and steady scientific progress is now 225 years old. I fervently hope this link proves sufficiently durable to overcome a wrongheaded anti-science, anti-logic, anti-expertise movement.

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Top photo of raw milk from a farm is courtesy of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, uploaded to Flickr in June 2024.