Shannon Millard Photojournalist

Alberto yells from the cow holding pen asking Victor how many more cows they need for the twenty station parlor. While at home he explained that his father is a surgeon in Salina Cruz, Mexico. "I send my parents $1,200 every time I get paid. We make three times as much money here in America than we did in Mexico, but things are more expensive here. I work more hours here but I am happy, I sing all the time, even if I’m not good at it," he said.

Billamar, 34, pushes to release a milker from a cow in the parlor at 4:30 a.m. "I wake up at two every morning, drink some coffee and come to work. It isn’t too hard because I go to bed at seven or eight every night. Working here on the farm is okay, it is work. I came to Michigan because my sister was working here with her boyfriend. Maybe next year I will move on again and find a different job," said Billamar at the end of his milking shift.

Lucero, 29 cooks for her brother, boyfriend, and cousin in their home that they all share a mile away from the farm. They have their shifts set up so they all have a break together in the middle of the day from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m.

Victor and Alberto take a break after milking cows to have a snack. Victor eats crackers and drinks a Coke on the washing machine that washes the milking towels as Alberto sits in solace and prays before eating. They are undocumented Mexicans working in Central Michigan, "work visas are very hard to get, they cost a lot and the government only seems to give them to older people," said Alberto.

Lucero brings cows in from the holding pen, she is the only woman that works on the Central Michigan Centennial Farm.

The owner of the farm supplies four migrant workers this home that they own to live in for free.

Alberto, lays in bed looking at Facebook on his phone. He was a police officer in Salina Cruz, Mexico. He came to America with his two sisters by bus for $2,000 each. He lived in North Carolina working multiple jobs before he left on his own to work on the dairy farm. “Every night I cry, I miss my family, here I have no sisters, parents or friends, so I drink beer every night to fall asleep,” said Alberto while looking at a photo of a Christmas tree from the year prior. 

Cousins, Angel, 27 and Lucero, 29 eat a snack together. They have a big sister little brother kind of relationship. Billamar’s wife pointed out they they always pick on Angel. Angel said he wants to stay in the United States for at least two more years and then go back to Oaxaca, Mexico, "I have only been here for three years."

The office on the farm where each worker clocks in. The owner of the farm used to hire local high school students to take on this large task but for the last 14 years has relied on six migrant workers. The owner cites the demise of the traditional family within the area as the main reason as to why he can’t seem to keep local help past two paychecks. To the boss, the Mexicans are God sent, to them the boss is an angel.

Victor sits in the dark living room as Alberto makes them dinner. "It is different here in the United States compared to what we were told. We came here and didn’t know the laws at all. I have no one here with me, I want to bring my family here but it is hard. I crossed the desert to get to America, it took five days. I worked in California in a garden for four years before moving here," said Victor about coming to America. 

Victor and Alberto have only been milking together for four months but they have a rhythm down and split up the work each day. While speaking about the farm they work on they noted "American’s don’t better themselves, they stay in their place. We want better. We know how bad it can be. Americans throw away money, food and here, cow feed. Everyday we push one day old feed into the manure pit with the skiddy. It is a waste, that is a lot of money to just put with shit."

Tomas stands on an unsteady container trying to retrieve their all black cat, El Nino, as Victor attempts to catch him, while Lucero tries to lure him down with food on the farm on Sunday, Nov. 1, 2015. 

Lucero walks a bucket of bottles to the baby calves after milking the morning shift for her brother and cousin on Sunday. "I haven't seen my mother in 16 years, I talk to her daily on the phone but, it is hard. I plan to find a green eyed man and take him back to Mexico with me," Lucero joked about her future plans.

On this particular dairy farm in Central Michigan they milk 700 cows, three times a day, seven days a week. 

Thomas drives past Victor and Alberto's home on their way to El Rancho, Authentic Mexican Grill and Bar in Greenville, Mich. 

Tomas and Lucero rest in their home upon returning from getting lunch in Greenville, Mich. at El Rancho, Authentic Mexican Grill & Bar. They work part time on a pig farm two doors down from their house, giving the piglets shots.