Miracle of Miracles

 

My Grandma Neelly didn't believe in betting. She didn't even like it if you said, "I'll bet you a quarter you will!" or "I'll bet you won't!" for some nonsensical argument among siblings. 

 

If Randy and I were betting folk, we'd have bet that a calf born during sub-zero temperatures last week would not make it. It didn't look good, despite our best efforts. 

My view - holding the bag up so the milk would flow while Randy tube-fed a baby calf in the pickup cab.

The mama had given birth on snow-covered ground, rather than on the straw that was available. When Randy found it, the mama had done a good job cleaning it off, but the newborn was no match for the snow-covered maternity suite and the wind. 

He wrapped it in an old blue blanket and put it in his pickup for a "sauna" treatment, then brought it back to the house. There, we mixed up some colostrum and tube-fed the baby in an effort to help it warm up from the inside out. (And this is why we use the old pickup for these tasks!)

 

 After it was good and dry, Randy deposited it in the straw back at the cow lot.

The mama was still waiting where she'd given birth. (You will have to pull up the photo below to see that the black "dot" in the background is actually the mama cow.)

Randy walked around the mama and herded her up toward the baby.

We left them alone, but the baby was still limp and unresponsive when we left.

Nothing had changed when Randy checked two more times that evening and night. He came back to the house and said he thought it wouldn't make it. 

However, Wednesday morning, he was delighted to discover that the calf was up. It was still wobbly, but it was up and trying to nurse. 

By Thursday, it was nursing well ...

... and following mama around the corral. 

"That is a good mama," Randy said, while we watched the pair. (The mom was not relishing our paparazzi moments.)

I've had a song on repeat in my head ever since, "Miracle of Miracles" from the musical "Fiddler on the Roof." (Click on the link to watch the clip from the movie.)

Over and over, the lyrics repeat "wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles." 

We did lose one calf from a heifer during the extreme cold. Thankfully, most of our heifers had calved prior to the sub-zero temperatures. Several veteran mamas found the straw or weeds in the pasture for cover. 

Ironically, we've had more loss outside the polar plunge. There was a dead baby calf in a pasture Sunday evening. The mama had done a good job cleaning it off, and there was no discernible reason that it didn't survive. 

 

Monday morning when we fed, the mama was in the same place she had given birth. She was there again last evening when we checked the ladies at dusk. It broke my heart.

In addition, we had a mama cow die on Saturday night, with a baby still in utero. However, it wasn't in labor at the time, and we don't know the reason for the mama's death. We also had a five-day-old calf die several weeks ago: Again, we don't know why that happened.

But, thankfully, there are many more miracles than heartbreaks.

Thursday morning, we watched as a brand new calf stood up for the first time.

Here was the same pair Sunday evening.

Yesterday, I watched baby calves chase each other in the pasture in the warm sunshine. No wonder I can't get "wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles" out of my head. 

Birth Coach

 

It's been a good long time since my favorite farmer was a birth coach ... at least, of the human variety.

 

Though my farmer is patient, kind and loving, I'm not sure I would give him an A+ as a birth coach. Randy was one of several farmers at our classes before Jill's birth. We wives heard our fair share of calving jokes. 

 

"We'll just get the chains out," they'd chortle as we puffed our way through class. 

 

The guys thought they were hilarious. The wives? Not so much.

And, during a very long labor, I seem to remember him paying more attention to a Monday night football game than me. 

But maybe he'd get better birth coach reviews from No. 911. Her birthing coach was all inclusive with her "contract" for room, board and plenty of food. 

 

No. 911 also got her own personal birth photographer. It's all the rage these days. Goodness knows, I didn't want video cameras or even still cameras documenting the birth of my offspring until the action was over. And even then, I let the Lamaze coach, the Big Sister and the guest of honor be the focus of the star's first-ever photo shoot.

 

But, No. 911 didn't read the fine print: The Chief County Line Correspondent has the exclusive rights to photograph and write the birth story. 

The heifers - including No. 911 - are in a corral to the east of our house. That makes it easier for Randy to check them more frequently and gives us easy access to the calving shed. Because they are first-time mothers, Randy checks the heifers throughout the day and night, just in case one is having difficulty.

With the heifers, Randy uses a bull for "calving ease" - a bull whose progeny is lower birth weight but which gains well after birth. Most of the time, the heifers calve naturally, but, once in awhile, they need a little help. This year, No. 911 is the only one who's needed an assist so far.

No. 911 calf's hooves had been showing for awhile, and after an hour, Randy didn't see any further progression. We ran her into the calving shed to pull the calf, something we do to help both the mama and the baby.

Usually, we get the heifer into a head gate, my "Christmas" gift of 2010. Sometimes cows can be riled up with the birthing process, so having them contained in the head gate is a much safer option for both mama and people. 

But this time, the heifer wouldn't get up, so Randy had to do some problem solving. 

Randy first splashed disinfectant on the heifer to try to keep the birthing canal as clean as possible. (We've been using the same Tupperware bucket for this job since Randy's folks were in the cow-calf business. It was part of our inheritance.) 

Just like on Grey's Anatomy or Chicago Med, Randy gloved up for the procedure. He tied a chain above the ankle on each of the front hooves of the calf.

 

Then he tied the two chains together.

Her location also didn't allow for enough space to use the pulley system we usually use to help extract the calf. This was the first time in nearly 40 years that I saw Randy just use his own two hands and some brute strength for the job.

Yes, he said he'd be sore the next day.

I theorized that the mother might be as well. (But she stayed calm, much to our relief.)

It's a little scary when calves first arrive, especially when you know they've had a tumultuous and long journey. Randy removed the film over the calf's mouth, and I watched it take a breath. (Sigh of relief from us, too!)

The calf's tongue was swollen from being in the birth canal for awhile.

 

While the mother looked at the baby, she still didn't seem interested in getting up. So we left them for a little alone time, hoping the two would bond away from prying eyes.

 

Another trip to the barn an hour later revealed that all was well.

The two were getting to know each other. Mama gets the job of cleaning off the baby by licking it. It's part of the bonding process for the pair.

In 2012, I wrote "The Miracle of Birth," which showed photos of pulling a baby calf in the head gate. Click here to read that post and see the photos. 

 

Yesterday, the calf was soaking in the unseasonably warm weather when she was reunited with her birth coach. (The mom was loitering nearby, too, but was more interested in eating than being with her baby at that moment.)

The heifer calving is nearing completion, with 17 of the 22 already calved. The cows - which are located in three different locations - are just beginning. 

We've had to contend with some mud in the lots after about an inch of rain last weekend. Thankfully, this first mama to calve at Peace Creek found the straw that Randy spread out for bedding. The feed truck driver maneuvered around the pair so the baby could stay on dry ground.

The second mama had her baby out in pasture grasses. It looked like a smart, dry choice, too.  However, ready or not, here comes a frigid weekend - not the ideal environment for baby calves. On Randy's to-do list? Spreading more straw. 

We'll see if any of the babies born this weekend will need a trip to the sauna and spa - a warm-up in the pickup cab. It's also in the birth contract if needed.

The Miracle of Birth

In these days of sexual harassment claims, I probably should have gotten this heifer's permission about posting her personal "business" all over the internet.

Goodness knows, I didn't want video cameras or even still cameras documenting the birth of my first offspring until the action was over. And even then, I let the Lamaze coach and the guest of honor be the focus of the star's first-ever photo shoot.

However, I guess it's in No. 638's "contract" for room, board and plenty of food that the Chief County Line Correspondent gets to have exclusive coverage of her baby's birth story.

 

The heifers are in a corral to the east of our house. That makes it easier for Randy to check them more frequently and gives us easy access to the calving shed. Because they are first-time mothers, Randy checks the heifers throughout the day and night, just in case one is having difficulty.

No. 638 had been showing awhile, and after an hour, Randy didn't see any further progression. We ran her into the calving shed to pull the calf, something we do to help both the mama and the baby.

We put the heifer in the head gate, my Christmas gift of 2010. Sometimes cows can be riled up with the birthing process, so having them contained in the head gate is a much safer option for both mama and people.

The guys first splashed disinfectant on the heifer to try to keep the birthing canal as clean as possible. (We've been using the same Tupperware bucket for this job since Randy's folks were in the cow-calf business. It was part of our inheritance.) Just like on Grey's Anatomy or Chicago Med, they gloved up for the procedure.

Then, the guys got the chains ready. Randy took our employee, Shawn, to a calving school in January, since he hadn't been around a cow-calf operation before. Shawn wanted to put his education to use, so Randy had him take the lead.

They tied a chain above the ankle on each of the front hooves of the calf. Then they tie the two chains together.

 

They attached the chains to a calf puller, which is a long rod with a pulley on the end.

 They put the leather strap of the calf puller on the cow's rear end.

 

Then they use the pulley to gently pull the calf from the mama's womb.

 

They sometimes pause to wait for another contraction.

The baby comes out with the front feet and the head first. (Click on the photos to make them bigger).

Welcome to the world, baby! The guys pulled the sack away from the calf's nose and mouth. 

Mama gets the job of cleaning off the baby by licking it. It's part of the bonding process for the pair.

We left them alone to get to know one another.

Later, we found that mama and baby were doing well.

 

However, another heifer needed some assistance, so Randy carried the calf right outside the calving shed, where mother and baby continued getting to know one another. Otherwise, it probably would have stayed in the shed until it was completely dry.

 

But soon it was ready for chow time!

Meanwhile, it was No. 659's turn in the birthing suite. The video below is from that birth. That calf is doing well, too. They have been the only heifers of the 24 that needed help with calving, and ironically, it all happened on the same day. 


Welcome to the world from Kim Fritzemeier on Vimeo.

And there you have it: The miracle of birth on the County Line.

Last evening, I decided it was time for a "well-baby" check. Here they are: No. 807, whose mama is No. 638 ...

... and heifer No.  659's calf, No. 808.

Their rough start doesn't seem to have slowed them down. I had to chase them around the lot, trying to get a suitable "class picture."

Speaking of which, I am using an old camera right now. My current camera, which is still under warranty, needed a trip to the repair shop. So I pulled an old camera from the box for a substitute. Every time I try to use it, I remember that there was a reason I replaced it. Thankfully, the birthing photos were before my current camera quit working. And, best of all, I got a phone call yesterday, saying my camera was on the way back home.