Our morning routine is just that, a routine that both my husband and I have down pat.
When my inside-the-barn work is done, I head out to feed heifers and leave the skid steer out by the silage bags for my husband to use to scoop feed into the cow wagon.
He gets done milking and then fills the cow wagon while I wash up milkers, tidy up the milkhouse and, afterward, begin to let cows out. After husband takes the wagon out to the cow pasture, he rejoins me in the barn, and together we let the rest of the cows out, scrape and clean up.
Sometimes things don’t go as planned, however. As I was letting cows out one day I heard a holler from the other end of the barn. “Hold up! I’ve got one coming back in!”
I stopped letting out cows so the one he had rounded up from the cow pasture could find her stall. This cow was overdue by about five days and had been trying to freshen overnight with no success. That’s a warning sign, so she needed to be examined more carefully. When cows are trying to calve, they don’t come into the barn with the rest of the herd, choosing instead to go to a secluded spot to birth the calf. That’s why she didn’t come in the barn right away that morning.
Finally, after the rest of the cows were out, my husband drew on a plastic sleeve that covered his entire arm, up past his shoulder. He physically examined the cow and could detect the head of the calf; good news, it was coming head-first, which was normal, but he could only find one foot, which was weird.
Deciding quickly, he pulled off the sleeve, reached for his cell and got the vet on the line, discussing options. The vet decided, from the way the situation sounded, he’d better make a run out to the farm.
Presently the vet arrived and, after examining the cow, determined she had a twisted uterus, which explained why my husband could not feel a second foot. He commended my husband for calling him, saying if we had tried to pull this calf out without turning the uterus, we’d have damaged the mother cow inside, and that sounded very worrying to me.
I must say, we try to treat our animals ourselves whenever possible. If my husband suspects hardware, he administers a magnet, which is the size of about a half of a hot dog. A cow displays certain symptoms if they have hardware, which is any sort of metal they may ingest accidentally, such as a nail or piece of wire that might be hidden in their feed. The magnet attracts the metal and settles it in the bottom of their stomach, where it will not harm the animal.
We also treat milk fever cases with doses of calcium, and my husband administers penicillin for mastitis outbreaks. All of these things that we can safely do ourselves eliminates a vet trip and saves us money. Sometimes, however, the vet must be summoned and it’s worth the cost when he saves the cow and/or calf.
So that day, my husband quickly retrieved a hay bale and placed it in the gutter for leverage, so the vet could more easily reach deep inside the pregnant cow to turn her uterus 360 degrees, which leveled out the calf. He worked and worked on this cow, not only to save her but also her calf. Finally, he grasped hold of the “missing” foot and along with the other one, attached a chain to both. My husband and the vet gently, firmly but with urgency, pulled the calf out. Urgency was needed as by that time, we were sure the calf was most certainly in distress.
Because of all the stress and delay in freshening, the newborn calf, as they had feared, was barely breathing. So they tipped it upright, rubbing, poking a stem of hay in its nostrils, anything to stimulate the calf to cough the fluid out of its lungs. The vet was even talking to the newborn, “Come on now; give us a cough!”
After about 10 minutes of both men tending the calf, out came a mighty, cleansing, healthy cough, and oh, was that a welcome sound! The vet suggested they place the calf in front of the mother: “Have the sandpaper lick of the mom’s tongue take over and let nature do its work!”
Stimulation is the key to any newborn calf. The mother’s licking her baby top to bottom stimulates the calf and enhances its chance of survival, giving it a good head start on life, and especially so when they’ve had a traumatic birthing experience.
Thankfully mother and calf are doing well, the 110-pound calf at birth has gained weight and is now ready for the market, frolicking around in the calf pen, kicking up his heels, a welcome sight indeed!
(“But for you who revere My Name, the Sun of Righteousness will rise with healing in its rays. And you will go out and frolic like well-fed calves.” Malachi 4:2, New International Version)
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