With a keen eye, my husband monitors our herd of cows and young stock on a daily basis. Every farmer must keep vigilant watch as health conditions can change in a heartbeat. It’s always a challenge to maintain a herd of cows, no matter the size. I’ve heard it said once, that 50 cows per man is about all one individual can handle. That is a handful at times.
Just lately we had quite a few cows freshen in (which means birth a calf) within a short span of time. It seemed we had calves popping out left and right. The night before the Fourth of July one of the cows due came down with milk fever. They can quickly get nasty sick, but one dose of calcium given intravenously ASAP usually gets them back up and moving. Usually.
My husband noticed this cow didn’t come in with the rest of the herd for milking that night. He figured she was calving so he left her alone. Normally, nature takes its course and in due time if everything clicks, the calf is born, the momma gets up, stimulates the little one by cleaning it with her sandpaper tongue and everybody is happy.
My husband milked cows and, right after, went out to the cow yard to make sure everything was going according to plan. Right away he spotted her, down, with no calf. As he approached, he could tell she was in distress. He headed back up to the barn for two bottles of calcium, a rubber tube, needle and a sterile pad.
Because she was sick, she didn’t thrash around too much although it was a challenge to locate the blood vein, wipe the area with the pad, insert the needle, attach the rubber tube to the bottle of calcium and administer the meds. He gave her two bottles right off the bat, got done, gathered supplies and walked back up the hill to the barn to let the rest of the cows out for the night.
The next morning was the Fourth of July and we needed to be down at the Leopolis Triathlon, registering participants for the annual race, a fun, exciting time in little Leopolis. Of course, when we need to leave the farm for anything, something always comes up.
Letting cows in that morning, the treated cow didn’t come in the barn. Going down to investigate, my husband noticed that during the night the cow had indeed birthed her calf, but was still down. His heart sank. Again, he hauled everything down the hill. (Of course, she had to choose a spot down below the hill to get sick.) Then he administered the meds, this time one bottle only, and proceeded to bring the rest of the herd in to milk.
Later when I got out to the barn, brisk instructions followed. “She’s still down. We’re gonna have to try to lift her. You’re gonna have to carry her some water. Do your work first.”
Silently I listened to his directives, no questions were asked; I knew what to do. When there’s trouble, less talk is better. After cleaning pens, bedding and feeding calves, I fed my outside heifers and washed up milkers after husband got done milking. Finally, I grabbed two pails and filling them up with water, headed out down the hill toward the cow, lying next to her newborn calf.
Checking my watch I knew I had less than one hour before I had to be at the registration table in what soon would become bustling, downtown Leopolis. Dejected, I figured I wasn’t going to make it. Hearing my husband making his way down in the skidsteer with the hip-lift in the bucket, I knew we were going to have to attach the lift to her hip area, hook it to the skidsteer bucket by a heavy chain, and then gently hoist the mother up to encourage her to get her bearings, stand and gain stability back to her legs. When they lay for any extended period, they get stiff and in many cases, pull a muscle straining to try to get up. By the time the hip lift is called upon, the situation has become dismal at best.
I slowly walked toward the downed cow and her calf with a sinking feeling, anticipating the work ahead of us and not knowing if we’d be successful and save this cow. All of a sudden, she made a move to get up. Shoving in a forward motion with her head, her massive body shifted ahead; her back legs straightened, bringing her back end up. She wobbled a bit and then stood up on all four! Making momma noises to her calf, she turned and immediately began tending.
My mouth fell open and I dropped the pails on the ground. As my eyes filled, sweet relief flooded through me. Quietly I prayed, “Oh, thank You, Lord, thank You!” I motioned to my husband as he was driving the skidsteer down the hill. Cupping my hands around my mouth I hollered gleefully, “She’s up!” with a thumbs-up sign. My husband’s huge smile reflected mine.
As the cow made her way to the water tank, my husband hauled the calf up to the barn in the skidsteer and I went in the house to get ready to go help at the triathlon. I’d make it in time!
(“Be joyful always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18)
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