Phil moved the hen house yesterday in order to till. They are in the apple orchard, with their pen near the road. Still no eggs from them, the rascals.
Phil had a long conversation with a local farmer on Thursday, and asked for ideas about Snowman. The farmer suggested it might be a problem with teeth: if the bull's front teeth are bad, he's simply not going to be eating. Or it might be Hardware Disease, a problem when a piece of metal consumed at some point in the past (not necessarily on our farm) pierces part of the stomach wall and causes extreme pain.
Besides surgery (which isn't terribly appealing for a 7-year-old bull), the other option is to put a cow magnet down the throat.
Great. But how to constrain the bull? Other than an occasional slap on the behind, we've not touched him since he came. We don't yet have any animal containment other than our cattle panel chute: no head gate.
The farmer suggested a temporary ring on the bull's nose; one of those allows easy control.
We've been putting homeopathy in the water the last few days, in hopes it would help Snowman if he has an obstructed bowel; we haven't seen the poor guy eat in several days, and haven't seen any evidence of manuring (not that we've analyzed cow pies, so it is possible he was pooping the other 23 1/2 hours).
Today we headed out to put the newly acquired magnet down Snowman's throat. We were thrilled to see that he was eating minerals and grazing, and that he had evidence of manuring. That's all great!
It also meant that Phil had his work cut out for him to get the ring on his nose. He had been expecting a reclining bull, but instead had to put the leash on him, then pull him in close enough to ring him.
I stood back, minorly stressed, but Phil got the ring on. Snowman shook his head for a bit, but then I held the leash while Phil took the magnet and the "balling gun" (a plastic device with a little plunger at the end).
Three times, Phil put the balling gun in the throat and released the magnet, only to have Snowman chew for a bit, then spit it out, covered in green cud and slimy.
The fourth time, Phil put the red plunger far down the throat, and since there was no chewing, we assume it went in. (Phil did take a compass to the bull's side, but I don't believe it showed anything.)
We've done what we could. The farmer said he does not call the vet. We've treated as we can for obstructed bowel; put down the cow magnet for Hardware Disease. We've tried to keep up his strength with molasses. If he lives now, it'll be because he fought for it; if he dies, we'll miss him, but remain grateful for his offspring. Clover is fine young son.
That was our new adventure for the day!
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