Spring Release at Miller Farm: A Joyful Return to Pasture

They’ve been waiting for this all winter—open skies, room to prance, mud to squish, and, of course, fresh green grass to munch on.

Pete Miller with a cow.

At Miller Farm in Vernon, Vermont, the spring release of their 200 Holstein heifers is truly a sight to behold. Folks of all ages gather to witness the event. Many already know the Millers—either as friends or through their rich, organic creamline milk found in stores and cafeterias across the state—but for some, this is their first time stepping onto the 700-acre, five-generation farm nestled in the heart of the Connecticut River Valley.

As the Miller team works to ensure a clear path for the hungry heifers, a line of eager cows builds at the gate, weaving back through the network of barns that has served as their cozy winter home.

In the harsh New England winters, dairy farmers ‘batten down the hatches,’ keeping their herds comfortable, safe, and well-fed on last season’s hay. As snow blankets the once-green hills of clover, alfalfa, and timothy, the heifers settle in for a long, patient wait.

But now? Their patience is wearing thin.

Heads poke through the gate, eyes locked on the lush hillside pasture awaiting them. Noses press forward, nudging the gate, testing the lock. A few cows back, a loud “moooooo” calls up to the front—“What’s the holdup?”

Arthur Miller, a fifth-generation dairy farmer, along with his brother Pete, gently assures them: it’s time.

With the creak of the gate, the all-you-can-eat buffet of crisp, green grass is officially open—and the herd wastes no time digging in.

Diesel, Husky Jalapeño, Mira, Wookie, Butter, Red, Billie—just a few of the big, beautiful Holsteins—step into the open air. Cautious at first, they soon burst into a springy prance, surprisingly light on their 1500-pound frames. What begins as a trickle of movement soon becomes a blur of black and white as the cows surge forward into the rolling pasture.

Each heifer expresses her joy in her own way. Much like the unique patchwork of their hides—no two the same—they each bring their own personality to the moment. Some gallop in wide arcs, exploring the open space. Others dig right into the fresh spring growth. A few nuzzle and play like puppies just waking from a nap.

Amidst the joyful scene, a cluster of onlookers lines the fence, watching with smiles despite the light drizzle. Overhead, a third species joins the celebration: a sweeping aerial display of 25 or so barn swallows swoops above the herd.

As they dart and dive through the misty air, it’s clear they, too, are happy to stretch their wings. Though free to fly all winter, it seems—even in solidarity—they waited alongside their bovine companions for this special day in May.