FARM LIFE FROM A FARM WIFE: Coming to the rescue of farmers at crunch time

All farmers need help from time to time, and it comes through in all manners of ways. Be it veterinarians, on-site repair crews, family members or neighbors, the ways help came to our aid were as diversified as the needs.

Back in the day when we were farming full-time, there were situations when we’d need a vet in the wee hours of the morning. Walking into the barn in the pre-dawn, we could be faced with anything. There might be a cow in labor (the mama lying down in the freshening stall moaning, her legs splayed out), a cow down with milk fever (her ears cold) or one with her foot caught in her stanchion chain — all of these scenarios we had experienced first-hand.

Many times, we could help a distressed mama cow by ourselves. If she was trying to birth while standing, my husband worked with a plastic sleeve on up to his elbow while I held her tail, milking postponed while we tended. Sometimes during a cold spell, the hot steam from her warm body would rise up like a cloud around us — the earthy, animal smell assaulting my early-morning-before-coffee self. “Buck up,” I’d remind me; this is life and death.

If the calf was just being stubborn or the mom didn’t have enough energy, he’d feel out the calf’s front legs, and we’d attach a come-along with a chain rope just behind the hooves. Wrapping it around a stanchion pole, we’d use it as leverage to slowly draw the slippery newborn onto the straw.

If time was of the essence, and it usually was by that point, we’d just wrap rope around the legs and one-two-three, pull — in rhythm with mama’s push, using combined brute strength to pull the little one out. Afterward, a piece of straw stuck in and out of the calf’s nostrils would clear the afterbirth so it could take a deep breath, and/or pumping its front legs would jumpstart the heart.

When we’d see the little slick one shake its head and their eyelids blink (what a wondrous sight) we’d leave mama to tend, she’d lick her offspring head-to-toe with her sandpaper tongue. That would be all it took.

One night while we were milking, our daughter was helping with chores when a vet had to perform a C-section. Sadly, the calf had already died, the mother in distress. The only way to help her was to literally cut her stomach open and physically remove the calf.

After the vet got the calf out, and as he held organs back, my daughter poured antibiotic into the open incision. She remembers feeling sorry for the cow, so sorry, and it was all very hot.

“I’m sweating profusely,” the vet had blurted out once during the procedure.

We laughed at that later. He was so formal.

Our daughter got splattered with blood and learned a great deal hands-on about the working innards of a Holstein. Later she confessed to us that she kept repeating over and over: “It’s just the color red. It’s just the color red. It’s just the color red!” Otherwise she might have passed out. She never wanted to become a veterinarian.

On-site repair crews were called to our farm a couple of times. Normally, my husband could take something apart, run for a part and put it back together himself, with me assisting by handing him a vise grip, hammer, crescent wrench or holding a flashlight. Once in a while, we’d have to call for help. We were chopping corn once and our chopper broke right in the middle of the field. These guys came out, repaired on-site and got us up and running.

I can recall one time I was baling when our hay baler broke. My husband was unloading at the farm. With only three raked-up, dried-to-the-bone rows of hay left and a thunderstorm brewing, I called him, crying. He called our neighbor who came out with his own tractor and baler, hooked up to our kick-rack and finished the field for us, delivering the wagon to the farm just before the storm broke. Sometimes the “to the rescue” people are next-door neighbors.

Speaking of next-door neighbors, we have the best. Anytime we are in any sort of distress we can call on them and they know we are right here, too. There have been times when our neighbor has called, stuck out in the field while spreading manure; can we come with a tractor and chain? Be right there.

My husband underwent a complete shoulder replacement one winter. Our neighbor came over every single day for weeks and fed our Black Angus using his own bucket tractor. He never wanted any sort of payment. I came out one day with packages of homegrown bacon and some baked goodies. My voice wavering a thank you, he quipped, “Well. I didn’t kill anyone yet!”

He was uncomfortable with my teary-eyed gratitude and wanted to make me laugh. He did.

Veterinarians, repair crews, family members or good neighbors, we thankfully had help coming to our aid at a moment’s notice.

(“Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” Galatians 6:2)

Kay Reminger was born and raised on a dairy farm, and she married her high school sweetheart, who happened to farm for a living in Leopolis. Writing for quite a few years, she remains focused on the blessings of living the ups and downs of rural life from a farm wife’s perspective.