These were the days before I had cows in my life. You see, there is something about animals that whenever there is a change in the atmospheric pressure their bodies decide "hey, this would be a great time to give birth." This will be on my list of great mysteries that I save until that day that I get to crawl up in the lap of my Father. He will lovingly brush my hair out of my face and ask me "child, what is it that you want to know?"
Storm Titan blew through the ranch in the dead of night on the second of March. It got down to negative nine degrees that night. There was a thick layer of snow on the ground from the last round of winter storms before this one blew through. Nights like that I can't sleep. In the darkness, I curl up into the fetal position and pray fervently over the animals as I listen to the wind howl over and around the house. Please protect them I ask over and over.
Morning comes. We hustle to put on layers of clothes covered by insulated coveralls and muck boots. The diesel truck is loud but the crunching snow and ice under the tires is louder. We have to put out hay because all their normal food is covered up by white stuff. We have to break the ice in the water tanks so these lactating mommas can stay hydrated to make milk for their babies. When it is nine degrees you hope the whole tank isn't frozen solid.
We stop to cut the netting off the hay bale and my eyes start darting from cow to cow. Noting which have had babies, if their babies were with them, do their bags look like they've been sucked. The cows that just had babies are off at a distance....as is their custom. They go off by themselves to give birth. I see a white faced cow by herself. Her big black calf laying there at her feet. He is frozen solid. She had him in the dead of night and she couldn't get him up and cleaned off fast enough. He stuck to the ground and there was nothing she could do to get him up. So he froze to death as she watched.
She saw us putting out the hay. She was hungry. Her maternal instincts were stronger. She would not leave her baby. Tears welled up in both my eyes and were about to spill over onto my checks. I turned to hide my head and walked to the other side of the truck. I wanted to hide the shame of my tears. Kept telling myself to suck it up, this is life, this is what happens when you have cows....but my tender mother's heart was broken for my white face cow.
We saw another cow a little further out who looked to have a new baby stashed under the cedar tree. She would not leave her baby to come eat either, so we took some hay to her. Her calf was black with a white face. His black patches around his eyes made him look more like a panda bear than cow. This momma loved her baby and wanted to take care of it, but it was obvious he hadn't eaten yet even though he was a couple hours old. Ed jumped out of the truck and ripped the calf off of the ground. He was starting to freeze to the ground and frost bite was evident on his tail and ears. Ed shoved him in the front seat with me and I held him all the way to the cabin. I studied his white eyelashes and deep dark eyes while holding onto the soft damp fur his mama had cleaned off.
Once at the cabin, the storm of activity begins to save the calf. Heater placed in bathroom, plastic covering the the floors, quilts gathered to maintain body heat, and rubbing all over to stimulate him. The giant white plastic bottles filled with powdered colostrum replacement mixed with warm water have been prepared and topped with giant red nipples. This calf didn't need much convincing. He latched on and was eager to fill his empty belly. He made it clear he wanted to live. Titan wanted to live.
This is what snow means to me now. Trying not to focus on the calves lost...but find joy in the ones we rescued from an early icy end.
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