Cowgirls

I’ve been trying to stay more positive since my last post. It was a difficult time, but I struggled on and things got better. We did not lose any more cows. We got solid days off to go shopping. The rest of the Jersey springer cows had girl calves.

 

On the afternoon of Friday the 13th, I was out bringing in the cows for milking when I noticed a bunch of them stopping and grouping together. When I got closer all but one moved off. She was a Jersey and clearly unhappy about something, sending death glares at Sparkie as my little dog went up to move her on. When the cow dropped her head to sniff something in the grass, that’s when I realized what was happening. She had a calf. A beautiful Jersey calf. Just my luck it turned out to be a beautiful Jersey bull calf. Just when I thought it was over. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Calving season is over and the milking herd doesn’t just drop calves between milkings. I tried not to get attached to him, knowing he wouldn’t be around long, but from the moment I saw him lying in the grass at his mother’s feet, I loved him. So I named him Brucey and nobody held back giving him the love he deserved, until Tom took him away when he was eleven days old. He was adorable and innocent and I wish I could have saved him somehow. But it wasn’t to be.

 

The Friesian bull calves have all been sent to their new home (being raised on another farm by a family, who take good care of them). The heifers are all out in the paddock. The calf shed is empty and in the process of being cleaned out in preparation for the next calving season, beginning in March next year.

 

The supposed “final” calf of the season was born on October 31. She was the tiniest, most nervous little calf we’ve had. Attempting to catch her in the paddock was a fail – she got loose from Daddy and climbed through a fence; she was only one day old. The first time I got in the pen with her she tried to kick me. She was spooked by everything and terrified of people. It took a long time to gain her trust but we succeeded. She is gentle and affectionate but with a mischievous side, and I realize now that everything I ever thought about cows was wrong. The more time I spend with her, and with our friendly young cow “Tip,” or with the laidback milking cow “One-Fifty,” or just observing interactions in the herd, the more I notice just how smart they are. They have personalities, likes and dislikes beyond just searching out food. They are smart and kind and care about other cows. When a cow falls down in the bale, the cows coming up behind her aren’t just blindly stepping on her in a hurry to the grain like I used to think they were. No, they’re actually being pushed forward by the cows behind them, who can’t see the cow on the ground. When a new calf is born and every cow wants to stop and sniff it all over, they’re not just idiots who’ve forgotten what a calf is. Don’t humans want to have a look at a friend’s new baby, no matter how many others they’ve seen before? Cows are not dumb, none of them, and they do not deserve that stereotype.

We now have four calves that can walk on a lead, have their feet picked up, and stand still for brushing, and mostly come when called in the paddock – pictured below with their handler/trainer, from left to right; four week old Alianovna, five week old Pepper, six week old Jane, and nearly seven week old Karen. These girls are going to be the quietest cows in the milking shed in a couple of years! I only wish we had time to train them all.