This morning dawned a bright and beautiful spring morning. February was a brutally cold month with only one day above 0. We even had a reading of -51 below (without wind chill) one morning at our neighbor’s house on the creek. Cattle typically handle that type of weather relatively well as long as they have some windbreaks and plenty of feed but, despite having all of that, they were starting to show signs of wearing out towards the end. Even the ranchers were starting to get testy and short-tempered.
Although there was plenty to be thankful for this morning, a heart-breaking task lay before Curtis and we were both dreading it. One of our first-calf heifers had been acting sickly the last few days but not showing traditional signs of labor. Her bag was not filling up and her tail was not “kinked.” Curtis described her has lying down and making a “hmnff” noise each time she breathed – similar to what I do when I try to pick up my purse in the morning. She just didn’t feel well and the obvious differential was that her calf had died inside of her and was starting to make her sick.
When this happens, the rancher has to basically pull the calf out or, in worst case scenarios, get a C‑section. Hopefully you are not eating right now but it is horribly messy and smelly. It is very difficult on the cow as well and, although Curtis has witnessed it more than I have, I have yet to see a cow live after a C-section.
Our hearts were heavy this morning at the prospect of what our poor heifer was going to have to endure. As I was leaving for work, Curtis was headed up to the shed to get his rain pants. We both headed down the frozen-mud driveway, took our separate directions, and headed out to the day ahead of us.
I was surprised that, shortly after getting to work, I received a text from Curtis that simply said, “Here’s our dead calf.” My first thought was, ‘surely he wouldn’t really send me a picture of a dead calf,” but I will share with you what I received:
What a blessing! Our little spring miracle. At least it made my day.
