Whenever anyone works with or around animals, they have to be watchful at all times. I never turn my back on an animal, even the calves in the pens as I’m cleaning them out.
Those bigger ones can get to be familiar and sometimes they like to follow me around. When they’re little, I stroke under their chin and talk to them. As they get older, they nudge me to pet them and the nudge turns into a persistent little push and a bit stronger than is safe, and especially as they grow bigger. It’s really my fault with the calves!
One morning I came into the barn and husband met me with “Cow down” and kept walking. I knew one had just given birth and I figured she must have come down with milk fever. This is something that occasionally happens to cows that have just birthed a calf. I followed him to the supply room to help cart supplies over.
The condition is easily diagnosed, as the large animal may become lethargic, ears get cold and they can’t get up. A cow that cannot raise herself can get dangerously close to becoming incapacitated very quickly. They may develop a pinched nerve that could potentially paralyze them. My husband had noticed she had changed positions without getting up. This meant she had struggled to stand and had not been able to make it up.
So that morning I helped my husband carry a rubber hose, a needle, encased antiseptic wipes, and two bottles of calcium, bringing all over to the downed cow. Before we administered the meds, we let the cow out who was in a stall next to the sick cow so there would be more room to maneuver.
Kneeling down in the empty stall next to the downed cow, my husband worked to find the vein to insert the needle into the cow to administer the calcium. He was fussing there for a little while, pulling back the skin of the cow’s massive belly to get the right spot. His head was bent close to her midsection, intently tending to what he was doing.
All of a sudden, before I could warn him, the cow brought her head up and around and squarely butted my husband in his head with hers!
He got up, stepped back and steadied himself, exclaiming, “What the heck happened?”
“She head butted you!” I was astounded! That had never happened before, ever. I had him wait for a bit, clear himself to make sure he didn’t have a concussion or something. His eyes looked a bit dazed for a second there.
This cow is one mean cow. Whenever I feed grain, I always remember to push the cart all the way past her before stopping to scoop grain to her and cows on either side of her. If I stop right in front of her, she’ll try to bunt me with her head. Obviously, this cow thinks she was born with a built-in weapon. She also hates to have my husband prep her before milking, hates to be milked and hates to be dipped after milking. She is just full of hate. She makes her hate known by prancing, snorting, shaking her head and generally just making a total nuisance out of herself.
So that morning as my husband was trying to get meds in to make her feel better, she almost knocked him out cold. This cow was sick, and she was still mean! As it turns out, the first dose was not enough. We had to administer a second dose of calcium and that time she was lying on her other side. Again, as my husband was bending to find the vein, she attempted to swing her head around once more. This time, I was eyeballing her and hollered a warning to my husband, “Watch it!” as she started to bring her head around. Just in the nick of time he got out of her way.
We just have to keep our wits about us as we tend to the animals. After two doses of calcium, patient waiting and unreturned tender loving care, thankfully, this one has come around. Her calf has been getting her milk; she has responded to her treatment and is producing for us.
She’s still mean.
(“The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore.” Psalm 121:8)
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