(Continued from Part 1.)
My first cow and calf
I spent the next few months getting to know my cow. I was terribly intimidated by her size. In fact, I was afraid to go into her pasture. I would cut up apples and feed them to her over the gate. She would eat them out of my hand while I called her by the name I had given her, and I would tell her what a sweet cow she was. I’m convinced this is what endeared her to me. When my excited grandchildren visited, they would also feed her cut-up apples through the gate. They got to feel the rough tongue of a cow, see how large she was, and learn her name. The cow got used to a bunch of excited kids shrieking near her.
Once a week I would call her over, feed bucket in hand, to the milking area. I would give her a little grain, lock her head in the head gate, and let her know that I could touch her all over without her being afraid. I was told to not overfeed her while pregnant, and that a fat cow will have difficulties birthing. I could only give her one quart of dairy ration, once a week. She had plenty of grass, but she found the stash of hay in the barn, figured out how to open the gate to it, and buried her nose in that fresh hay often. So, that’s how it went for a few months.
She got to know me, and I got to know her. If I ventured into her pasture, she would come racing towards me full tilt and it scared me to death. One of my neighbors, who was here doing some work for me, told me to turn around, face her, throw up my arms into the air, and yell “Hey!” I tried it and she stopped dead in her tracks. He grew up on a cattle ranch. I now carry a small tree branch that I made into a sturdy stick. I have several, one near each gate. If a cow gets overly excited to see me and comes right up on me, a quick bop on the nose is all it takes to teach boundaries. Over time, the cow learned to respect my space and I could be close to her out in the field with no problems.
Her due date arrived and oh my goodness, I was just like a mother whose child was about to birth a child. I kept checking on her, making sure she had everything she needed. The weather was beautiful. I had read that a cow will go off to be alone and possibly find a little hideaway when she is ready to birth. The barn was clean and ready. All around the barn, and back behind it had been cleaned up. All the fences had been repaired. There was nothing I could do but wait. As I was watching her one afternoon, through the window, I thought I could see her pause every once in a while. Hmmm, looks like labor to me. I walked down to her and just hung around to see what she was going to do. I thought I heard her water break. I couldn’t be sure. It was either that or she had to pee. Hard to know. After a while, I went back up to the house. I kept looking out the windows and at one point I had not seen her anywhere.
I hurried myself out to the pastures, walking, looking, and there she was lying on her side as if she was dying. She looked at me like, “What is happening?” I checked her back end and I could see two small hooves facing down (a very good sign that means the calf is in the right position!). Next, I saw a nose and tongue sitting on top of the hooves. Then, it seemed like everything stalled. OH MY GOODNESS!!!! I had no cell phone connection down in the field, so I ran back up to the house to call an emergency vet. I called a neighbor too, and left a message. Then, I ran back down the hill to where she was. No change. Oh Lord, I’m going to have to pull that calf! I had read up on that, had watched videos, and I knew I could do it, but I was scared. I squatted down next to her and quickly prayed, then I looked into her eyes and said, “Come on darling. You can do it!” As I readied myself to pull the calf, praying I was strong enough since she was on her side and the angle would be very awkward, she started pushing. She pushed that calf out with one giant push, and it landed next to me. I burst out in happiness, but checked to make sure the calf could breathe and was alive. It moved. It took in air. My cow was laying there on the ground as if someone had shot her. I got in her face and said, “Look. Look what you did. This is your baby.” The calf moved and she looked at that calf with total surprise. She jumped up and started cleaning it off. There was an immediate change in her demeanor. She realized that yes, this was her baby! And, as mothers often do, she forgot what she just went through.
Seeing that things were moving in the right direction, I ran back up that hill, huffing and puffing, as the neighbor called. I told him it was fine – we had a calf on the ground. As I got back up to the house, the vet called and I told her the same thing. No need to come out. I grabbed a 5-gallon bucket, poured several glugs of blackstrap molasses into it, half-filled it with water because I couldn’t carry it completely full, grabbed a feed bucket and put in a couple of scoops of grain, and went back down the hill. My cow was sitting in front of the shivering calf, just staring at it with love eyes. “Oh good grief. Get up! Your baby is cold!” I exclaimed. Oh, but she really just needed some energy and was grateful for the water, molasses, and grain. She drank that water down so fast, and gobbled up her grain and then… then… everything was wonderful. I stayed with her for awhile, taking a bazillion pictures, watched the calf get up and hunt for a teat. Every time the calf would try to get a teat, my cow would whirl around wondering what it was doing. So, I said, in my best cow language, “Dear, stand still. Your baby has to nurse.” And she did and the calf latched on. Whew.
I went back up the hill, and got more water with molasses, brought it to her and she gulped that down. While I was away, my cow passed the afterbirth. Good. Okay, they’re going to make it. Everything is fine. Lord have mercy! Her first calf and my first calving experience. The drama! LOL. I was so grateful and thankful. I have read that first-time calving heifers may have a longer than normal birthing experience, but hers was a bit too long and I thought for sure the calf would have problems. Nope. I had no idea if the calf was a heifer or a bull. I wasn’t sure what I was looking at, but I didn’t see any testicles. LOL. (Not the right way to assess gender, by the way). That little heifer was soon racing all over the place with joy. Well, I’d be joyful too if I could drink Jersey milk to my heart’s content. My cow turned out to be the best mom. And that calf, who is absolutely gorgeous is now pregnant with her first calf. She is sweet as sugar, just like her mom.
Next up was training my cow to milk. She wanted nothing to do with that! She would kick and buck and move side to side. She would poop and pee and let her disgust be made known. One time I forgot to lock the head gate and as soon as she finished her grain, she backed out and took off with the milker attached! Thankfully, those are designed to break free in a number of places, so no one was hurt and nothing was broken. With a lot of patience from both of us, we continued the routine twice a day. And one day, she was milking like a dream. Until she wasn’t. Her calf was growing so big and fat on that Jersey milk that it was taking a toll on her body. She was losing weight too fast and her milk production was dropping. Uh oh. Several experienced dairy people told me to wean that calf. Well, I did. She was weaned at 5 months old. And man did she bawl and bawl and bawl. She tried jumping the fence to get to her mother, so I hot-wired it. She pouted and whined, and I found out she was in heat. So young??? Yes, Jersey calves can cycle as early as 4 months old.
When I weaned her, I gave her hay and grain, but she had plenty of grass in her own pasture that adjoined her mother’s pasture (fence line weaning). Each afternoon I would take her some food and talk to her, pet her, and tell her she was going to be just like her mom one day. She is the most beautiful heifer in the world. We bonded when she realized that I had become her mother. She stopped looking for her mom, and instead, she watched the house waiting for me to come out with her food. If I was late, she would bawl at the fence line. We are still very close, and she is still very sweet. It will be fascinating to be there for her first calf.
(To be concluded tomorrow, in Part 3.)