Fearsome Fern and Lack of Let Down

Thursday was designated "Keep Charlemagne Alive" day. Besides multiple naps to make up for the 2am bedtime of the ER visit, I read up on how to help Fern let down. Her udder was starting to feel hard and firm in the center, and I really didn't want a mastitis issue just because she was having a hard time letting down.

Internet and book research said to milk her out three or four times, so I headed down, in 110 heat index weather, and experienced a new episode in terror each time. Our other milking cows have horns that point up. As long as I stay near their heads, their tips aren't terribly scary. Fern's horns, though, point forward like a bull. One time, she again hooked my neck, though she didn't leave a bruise this time. Several times she was a foot away and I was between her horns. Whether from flies or simple irritation, she tosses her head back toward me, which makes me wary of connecting her lead to her collar. Several times I just waited until she needed to urinate.

The worst was when I was milking and she leaned into me which knocked me down, and then swung her head and horns. She was tied up tightly enough that she couldn't quite reach me, but that seemed really extreme.

The books say not to be afraid around an animal, because they can sense that. This was not helpful advice, though: if an animal purposefully tries to scare me, how do I maintain my cool?

These episodes were, undoubtedly, as traumatic for her as they were for me. She utterly, udderly refused to let down. I got two cups at one point, and again tubed her baby. Then nothing. My best success came after tubing him a second time. He tottered over and began to nurse, which quickly caused the long awaited let down. I tried to milk out the most swollen quarter, and the baby quit nursing. Was it too much interference? Or was he done? Did I need to milk her out to avoid mastitis? Or would he have managed in the end?

These are the types of questions that a beginning farmer can endlessly rehash.

Isaiah spent the day inside, and it didn't seem too onerous. Phil worked inside a bit, but when he totaled his outdoor hours, he came up with about nine: moving cows, shearing sheep, doing chores, working on fencing.

I had too much nervous energy to settle into work for pay, so I spent other time cleaning up our dwelling. It takes a surprisingly few art projects involving tape and bits of paper to create the appearance of absolute chaos. Add in a generous amount of Playmobil, pattern blocks, and books, and it gets hard to fetch a glass of water in the night. Enough.