Calving Season
~ This article first appeared in The Leader-Vindicator newspaper. ~
I’m finished with calving season.
The babies started arriving on May 20 and increased in number quickly over the next several weeks. Most of the time Momma does a fine job delivering so for me the real work begins after the calves are on the ground. Working with calves is insanity.
The first challenge is getting all the calves tagged and the males castrated. I like to give the new arrival 24 hours to bond with Mom before I jump on its head to give it an ear tag and a band for the boys. A baby calf instinctively remains silent and unmoving when it senses the presence of something – me, in this circumstance – and it never fails to amaze me how invisible they are in the grass. I must walk nearly on top of the curled animal to discover its location.
There is a trick I employ to quickly find new babies: First find Mom. She is much easier to locate and once I know where Mom is there is a good chance the baby in question will be somewhere within a 30 mile radius of where I’m standing. Then all I need to do is examine every square inch of the 1,809,280 acres (if my math is correct) within that perimeter to locate a silent, sleeping calf. No problemo.
By day two calves are really moving but they have no sense of direction or boundaries. This makes even simple herd maneuvers challenging. By the nature of my management strategy the cattle must continuously move about in order to have forage so the issue of relocation never actually resolves itself. For weeks on end various characters within the herd destroy my sense of ability, professionalism, and planning.
Following is a review of the characters I deal with daily:
Cow Convinced She Forgot Calf: She didn’t forget her calf. It walked along with the herd just fine and settled nicely in the new spot. It’s usually standing next to the cow. But the cow knows she left it behind. She will bellow and race back to the old paddock searching high and low for poor, lost Junior who all the while is wondering what Mom is doing making a scene.
Cow Following Cow Who Thinks She Lost Her Calf: If Bertha is in a tizzy, so is Bessie. When Bertha runs screaming backwards into the previous paddock Bessie realizes that something terrible happened and Bertha will need a support group. Not wanting to minimize Bertha’s agony, Bessie raises a similar wailing commotion and follows at top speed, typically with her calf, tail raised in the ecstasy of running, alongside. Bessie will leave her calf behind when she returns to the proper paddock and it will become lost, causing more commotion.
Cow Who Actually Forgot Her Calf: This one is calm. Zen-like, even. She’s free of some pestering thing. What is it? Might be important…buuuuuuut…this clover looks pretty good. Probably nothing. Definitely nothing.
Calf Outside The Fence: He has no idea how he got here, but he’s out, baby, and freedom tastes so good! Good, at least, until he realizes Mom is far away. Upon recognizing symptoms of acute separation anxiety he will destroy the fence in his effort to return to Mom. The rest of the calves will depart through the new hole in the fence.
Calf Terrified Of The Fence: This is the calf that throughout every other moment of the day will gleefully endure electrocution as she clambers over, under, and through each fence barrier within walking distance for no reason at all. When it’s time to walk around the fence, however, she becomes petrified that the wires that used to be there might in some way inflict pain and so she will not pass through the opening. Mom will stand bellowing instructions and head-butting every poor herdmate within range while the calf pitifully wails for help, standing two feet from Mom on the other side of a barrier that is not existent.
Calf On The Road: If there is a road, this calf is on it. He’s enthusiastic about vehicles. Drivers will stop to inform me that the calf is on the road. I am aware. But Bertha is bellowing and Bessie is wailing and a group of calves is charging over the horizon like an old Texas cattle drive so my attention is spread a little thin at present. Drive around the calf. I will get to him.
Calf That Was Left Behind: Nothing like a good powernap to get through the tumultuous occasion of bellowing cows, sprinting calves, and electrical sparks as the fence is reduced to rubble by way of domestic terrorism. Upon waking he will travel the wrong way to find the herd (which is plainly visible if he would simply turn around) thus finding himself lost and in distress. He will need rescued.
There are more, of course, but I’ve outlined the highlights and their description provides a portal into life during calving. I’ll walk three times as much as usual and get 1/16th as much accomplished.
I can say for certain when it’s all over that I appreciate the stationary nature of a tomato plant.