Reality TV at its best

It started. My first baby arrived on Valentine’s Day.
Not much of a baby—he was 120 pounds. But “mom” pushed him out just fine.
The camera was great; I spotted the water bag and then just waited. I was a bit worried when I saw the size of the feet, but kept telling myself, “It looks big cause it the first one” and “It shouldn’t be too big [as] this one was bred to the Red Angus bull!”
I quickly checked the mill schedule. Why the mill schedule? ’Cause ya see if I needed help, I had to see who I could call.
A couple of the guys were at work and another would be going nights, but no fear. I have a couple of other non-mill workers who are great, but they work everywhere so I might have a harder time to track them down! I called one friend and he was at home, so I gave him the update (or maybe I should say warning).
I ended up not wanting to watch from the house any longer, so out I trucked to the barn. I pulled up a chair and watched. After some hard pushes, out came a great big bull! He was fine and mom loved him.
I was a bit worried because this was a 4-H heifer and she was big, slow, and extremely lazy. Most of us know that if they have ever been dragged around at the Emo Fair, they tend to be the ones with the problems.
I finished up my chores, checked all the girls outside, and headed back to the house. My parents had called earlier to see if I wanted to meet them for supper but since I was expecting babies, I told them I better not. But once I was back in, they stopped in with a shrimp dinner for me (they are great parents, couldn’t ask for any better).
I enjoyed my Valentine dinner and was still excited because I am officially started–the calves would be rolling in (or I guess out) now. Since I held my bull back last spring, I think I have bunched up my cows.
I had my usual Jacuzzi and then watched the “show” from my bedroom and my new camera. Mom (“Dan-D”) was proudly licking up her new boy!
And this leads me to a story. . . .
I’ve always said after pulling calves, chains and pullers, and prolapses, that is the reason I could never have kids. I had seen too much. I remember thinking and telling the vet one time, during the only C-section I ever had, “If I ever have kids, I am scheduling a C-section–there is no way I would do what these cows have to do!”
He told me they didn’t use the same chains or anything, but that didn’t convince me.
But, the best story of them all is this. . . . One of my best friends said her kids, when growing up, always commented on how gross it was that the cows had to lick off their calves. She told them that it took her the whole day to lick them off when they were born!
She still says that she thinks they were in there 20s before they realized she was pulling their leg!
I finally had to end up turning the “show” off–it was so nice to watch the new mom and new baby, and since the camera has sound, I could hear the smacking of the baby getting his first drink of milk!
That is reality TV at its best, but I needed to rest before my next check!
• • •
A few of us neighbours got together the other night. We tend to meet at one of houses when a birthday rolls around (or sometimes for no reason at all).
Of course, when we get together, we tend to talk “cows” (we have tried not to, but we always do).
One of our friends was telling us how her cows didn’t like to calve in the barn, so they let them calve outside and then bring them in. My cows, on the other hand, love the barn. It seems to them it is like going to the spa for a few days. They long for their turn.
As I was bringing in a very over-due cow tonight, I could see the others thinking, “Aw, she is lucky–can’t wait for my turn!”
I’d enjoy it, too. It is a pleasant temperature, your bed if full of fluffy straw, you get the best hay, water is right beside you, and the nice farmer cleans the poop a few times a day! What more could you ask for.
My boyfriend (or partner or whatever I am suppose to call him) enjoyed it last year when we pulled in the yard. At this time of the year you scan the cattle yard to see what is going on and I quickly noticed, “Oh, Daisee is calving!”
I was in my town clothes so as I hoped out of the truck, I called out, “Daisee, come to the barn!” I went in and changed, and Daisee met me at the gate and in the barn she trucked. You see, she is one of those “fair cows” that love the barn even more!
So I’m glad my cows like the barn and their few days of pampering because it’s a heck of a lot easier for them to carry that baby in than me. But that just leads to more stories. . . .

Posted in Uncategorized