Calf in a Creek

Walking over to the farm this morning was a beautiful experience. I usually use the early dawn darkness to think about my plans for the day or to enjoy the sights of chickens, ducks, and cows waking up from their quiet slumber. This morning, however, the stillness was especially noticeable. Maybe it was the chill in the air or the lack of any breeze, but the calm overwhelmed me with an anticipation and excitement that was reminiscent of the hushed moment immediately before a long, passionate kiss.

My serene morning took an interesting turn when Clint, our farm hand, came into the cheese plant and asked if I would go outside to check if a cow that was due was in the cowyard since he was busy milking and hadn't seen her yet. I went out to the pastures and started searching but didn't find any sign of anything bovine. Fifteen minutes into my search I noticed Clint was in the next pasture waving to attract my attention. I walked over and as I approached Clint called out to me "There's a cow in the creek." We both walked closer and I noticed there was some afterbirth hanging out of her, which wasn't a good sign since that meant there was a calf we had to find. I scramble down the bank and land with a splash in muddy water right behind her. Startled, she runs forward a few feet right into some multi-flora rose bushes. Thankfully cows have a thick hide so she isn't harmed at all, people however, don't. I look down at me feet and see the placenta so I look around for any sign of a calf. About a foot away, laying flat out in cold muddy water is a soggy, bedraggled calf.

Hoping it's a bull I check the sex and it turns out to be a heifer. Muttering a quiet curse about how of all the places to give birth in the beautiful pasture she has to give birth in a cold mud hole I pick up the calf and starting rubbing her against my shirt to dry and warm her. Now the fun really begins. I have to carry a cold, wet, big, heavy calf up a fairly steep bank and across 300 yards to a warm barn while trying to get a discombobulated cow out of the same cold, wet, steep creek. Thankfully Clint climbs down to herd the cow (whose name is Felicia, by the way) from the rear while I slog through the mud ahead of Felicia bleating like her calf so she would follow me.

After a couple of wrong turns we finally get Felicia up a less steep portion of the bank and onto some flat pasture. The rest of the herd watched us attentively from the top of the stream throughout the whole ordeal and now that the calf is amongst everyone they all have to get a few good sniffs. After a long, heavy trudge with Clint taking some turns carrying we get the calf, the anxious mother, and the excited herd back to barn. We segregate Felicia and her calf in the maternity pen while the herd it readied for the morning milking. I collected some towels so Susan (my mother-in-law) can dry the calf while I bring a bale of stray and some hay to make everyone comfortable. Thankfully after everyone's immense efforts that calf not only survived but she is thriving, quite cute, and growing like a weed.