In the heart of Long Prairie, Minnesota, stands a barn filled with mothers, and one in particular keeps it all running. Amanda Zigan didn’t grow up on a farm and had no background in dairy, aside from her father, who drove a milk truck. She didn’t even milk a cow until she moved to the Zigan family farm in 2006. Since then, she has spent nearly two decades learning, stumbling, and growing, slowly figuring it all out. Today, Amanda is an owner, herdswoman, bookkeeper, technician, and devoted mother, not just to her four children, but to every cow in the barn.
“I’ll put myself second so that she (the cow) has what she needs,” Amanda says, and she means it. Every stall, every feed ration, every step in her robotic milking barn is designed to help her animals reach their full potential. She has built a life defined by devotion, determination, and quiet strength.
The Zigan farm, a third-generation family operation, faced a “go big or go home” moment 11 years ago. They made a bold move for a small family farm, investing in robotic milking technology at a time when few others dared to make that leap. Amanda took the reins, mastering the system, troubleshooting breakdowns over the phone with tech support, and becoming the one calling the shots. These days, it’s her husband and dad who hold the flashlight and hand her the tools when the robots shut down.
The cows on the Zigan farm average 80 to 90 pounds of milk a day. They eat well, rest comfortably, and milk when they want. Amanda monitors their health and productivity daily, walking the barns and checking the computer for “fetch cows” —these cows are ones that haven’t milked as expected. She knows every number and pattern because, although the barn may be high tech, the cows are still her babies.
The work isn’t easy. Amanda is honest about that. Some mornings start with broken equipment or sick animals, and the weight of it all is heavy. There are never enough hours, never enough hands, never enough money. Still, even on the days she feels like she can’t do it anymore, she gets out of bed and milks the cows.
She’s a perfectionist, and in farming, that’s both a strength and a burden. No matter how hard one works, some days still fall apart. She holds herself to standards that exceed what most would attempt. A clean bed, a well-fed cow, an animal living up to its full potential —that’s how she measures success, even when it costs her more than anyone sees.
Amanda leads with heart and faith. “God brought me here,” she says. “At the end of the worst days, when everything felt impossible, I still get to look up and see a beautiful sunset. That’s God reminding me why I do this.”
In addition to running the farm and raising four kids, Amanda is deeply involved in her community. She’s active on her county’s ADA board, works with local FFA and dairy princess programs, and is a role model for young women in agriculture.
She uses resources from Midwest Dairy, including dairy grants, to support events such as Breakfast on the Farm, where she invites the community onto the farm to see firsthand the care, science, and commitment behind their glass of milk. Amanda loves planning events and sharing her story, but she says, “In this season of life, the farm must come first.” Still, she gives back, however she can, through advocacy, education, and leading by example.
Amanda also recently joined Midwest Dairy’s Dairy Experience and Agricultural Leadership program, which has helped her connect with farmers across the country and given her a new appreciation for dairy promotion and checkoff programs. “It’s built me a community I didn’t know I needed, friends who farm that I can relate to, and it continuously reminds me that we’re all in this together,” she says.
Despite her “I can do it myself” attitude, Amanda admits the hardest part of farming might just be asking for help. She’s wired to push through, even when it hurts. Yet the farm has also taught her strengths she didn’t know she had. She says it’s made her fearless.
One day soon, Amanda hopes to clean out the hay barn and host a community square dance. It’s just one more way she wants to bring people together and share the life she’s built —the hard, beautiful, faith-fueled life that farming has given her.
No matter how tough it gets, Amanda Zigan isn’t going anywhere. She’s worked too hard, given too much, and loved too deeply. The cows and community are better for it.