Calves are the future of our herd and need to be well tended. They come in different shapes and sizes, complete with their own mindsets.
Some are stubborn, some are mischievous, some are hyper and some are just plain dull in the head. It’s a marvel, really.
Right now, I have quite the little assortment of calves. This is a challenging group to feed. One clamps its mouth together so tight I have to literally pry it open with my fingers in order to stick the bottle’s nipple in its mouth. I was trying to train one to eat out of the pail, but it’s now back on the bottle. It just did not understand that it needed to keep its head d-o-w-n in order to drink. Sheer, maddening frustration.
Another calf almost inhales the milk, drinking with such gusto it’s heartwarming. So I have quite the versatile group. I am a bit possessive of “my” calves because for the most part, I am the one that feeds them their grain, calf starter, baled hay, haylage and milk, and cleans and beds their pens. My husband maintains their vaccinations, schedules dehorning, ear tags them and administer any meds they require.
Another part of tending to calves is to keep their drinking cups free of gunk that might get plopped in there. As well, I always check to make sure the water doesn’t freeze in the cups, especially in one pen, because it’s close to the big outside door where our cows go out. When the temperature dips, I watch closely.
When pregnant cows are due to calve, we put them in the birthing pen so they’re more comfortable and have room to maneuver. My husband sets up stored gates butted up against a pen on one side and the outside barn doors on the other. We throw a cushion of bedding down for the cow. If I’m in the barn when he puts the cow in the pen, I include a wafer or two of dry hay for momma-to-be to munch on while she’s waiting to deliver. It’s a mom thing.
One morning we were almost done in the barn and I was walking past a mother cow that had, it seemed, all of a sudden decided to pop out her calf. My husband was not anywhere close and had not gotten her into the birthing pen, so there she was in her stall, smack dab into delivery, straining and moaning, the calf’s front feet sticking out a few inches. Stopping dead in my tracks, instinctively I took hold of both front feet. I could see the tip of the calf’s nose so I knew it was coming out properly. Had I not seen the nose I would have scrambled to find my husband. If a calf comes out breech, (back legs first) we would have an issue.
Every time the momma pushed, I pulled. I worked with her, waiting. Looking up at one point, I realized I was eye level with the back hooves of the cow beside her. “Oh Lord have mercy, don’t let that one get nervous!” Even as preoccupied as I was trying to help this cow calve, I envisioned getting clocked right between the eyes with a big black foot.
I braced myself against a gutter grate that we had stuck behind this cow to assist her, as she was a massive animal. As the birthing progressed — front feet, nose, head, front shoulders, full body and then rear end and hind legs and feet, the calf finally slid out with a “whoosh” encased in the moist, slippery afterbirth. Just then, my foot slipped off the grate, and backward I fell, right on my keister, almost ending up in the opposite gutter!
Momma looked around, eyes wide, ears pointed forward, already making low, mothering sounds as she spotted her little one sprawled out on the ground next to me, sprawled out on the ground. Soon husband appeared and helped us both up!
Calves come in all different shapes and sizes with mindsets of their very own. Some are birthed in pens and some right from out of their momma’s stall, some with a little help and some all on their own. They’re our herd’s future and need to be well tended. It’s all about the calves!
(“Well-spoken words bring satisfaction; well-done work has its own reward.” Proverbs 12:14 The Message Bible)
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