The barn has been altered once again to meet the needs of
the ever-growing cattle family – this time by the Farmer and not the cows
themselves. Before Christmas the cows busted into the birthing area and knocked
down all the pen walls with their big butts.
The Farmer brought in new feeders and reinforced the pen
walls in time for the first birth. Julie went first, then Ginger, then Mocha.
By the time Betty went into labour we had to admit adapting the sheep pens to
accommodate a mama cow and her calf was not ideal. We had to keep throwing old,
dry hay down to sop up the mucky mess they were standing in. On a mild day, we
turned them all back outside.
Then that polar vortex blew into town and Q-tip decided to
give birth. Really bad timing. She gave birth just after our last check of the
night, outside. We didn’t realize she was ready to birth, so we didn’t put her
inside. As a result, her baby froze. The next day she stood outside the door
where the Farmer had taken her dead calf, and she bawled. Then she went back to
the spot where she had given birth, and just stared at the ground. It took a
few days for her to stop looking for her calf. The cows had access to the barn
for shelter, but it wasn’t enough. We
knew we had to do something to convert the barn so that the cows could come in
and be warm.
The Farmer and the boys set to work securing metal gates
across the middle of the barn, dividing it in half. With just eleven remaining
sheep, a horse and donkey, they don’t need much room. Just a shelter from the
windy, wet weather and access to water.
The cows got the other half of the barn, plus access to the
inner room that is toasty, dry and warm in comparison. They could come and go,
in and out as they please.
At first there was a bit of a power struggle. Julie would
stand guard at the doorway to the inner room, tossing new calves aside with her
big head. She wouldn’t let them in to the best room in the hotel. Then Betty
realized she could crane her neck over to the stacked bales of hay and pull one
down like a buffet. What a mess she made. I’m just glad she didn’t pull the
huge bale down onto a calf.
I yelled at Julie and she looked startled and then ashamed.
I swear she understood. We are very gentle with our animals – we have given
them a smack on the butt to get them moving at times but they are never treated
unkindly. Julie has become very tame, like her mother Mocha. I pushed the other
mothers’ calves into the warm room with Julie and watched as one by one she
sniffed them, then snorted and walked away. They do eventually work things out
among themselves.
With eleven cows , one bull and four new calves, it’s time
to start thinking about naming the rest of our herd. For some reason I didn’t
get around to it last year. We don’t name the males, because they will be sold
by the end of their first year anyway. But naming the females just makes it
easier for us to keep track of them. We bought Ginger and Big Betty at auction,
and I named them (although the Farmer insists on using the prefix “Ugly”).
Anastasia named Mocha. Julie was born on the 1st of July. Q-tip
looks like her tail has a cotton tip. Then we have two white-faced black
heifers I have named “Left Eye” and Lola and four pure black girls. One of
those four has a big curl on her head, like Gina Lollobrigida. She will be
named Gina, and the other three can be Rosie, Bessie and Kate. But I still
can’t tell them apart. The two female calves I have named Bandit (for her mask)
and Bonnie.
Maybe I can get them some kind of scarves to wear that will
distinguish them from each other. Or brand them with a wee smattering of paint
on their ebony sides. As their personalities emerge it will be easier to tell
them from each other.
Email: dianafisher1@gmail.com
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