And Now, Thirteen Cows

Phil came back from moving cows this morning. Despite the cold night, baby Clara slept wedged between her mother and Catherine, so she was warm and happy.

Bianca's placenta was dragging, but not entirely released. We must boost the nutrition for our poor animals!

And then Phil realized that Catherine was not able to stand up. She thrashed a bit, got up on her hind legs, but couldn't get her front legs under her. Apparently, she hobbled on her knees before settling back to lie down. Her right front leg was bent at an unnatural angle, enough that Phil didn't want to touch it. (And he's not as squeamish as he used to be.)

Back home, he read that cows with a broken leg who weigh under 500 pounds can have comfrey, a bone-knit herb, and a splint on their legs. We have not yet planted comfrey, and Catherine is certainly not under 500 pounds. So we called the vet, who was not terribly encouraging. Downer cows have only one option. But he agreed to come out.

This was not welcome news. Although Catherine is the most stubborn cow we have, she has a good body conformation, has been an excellent mother, and gave 2 1/2 gallons of milk a day for the previous owner. (She gave us a few tablespoons. Another symptom of bad nutrition.) At least she wasn't down from our management. Gopher holes are just a random accident, not much to do either in prevention or treatment.

I started to think about the ramifications of having to process a cow: after the killing, the processing of a cow will be a massive amount of work. And we have no space in the freezers, but we could make a trip to Costco tomorrow. Which would require huge reshuffling in the barn, and maybe more electrical work. I am looking forward to the day when we have beef to eat again, but this doesn't seem like the right time.

Phil prayed that, somehow, we wouldn't have to kill her.

When the vet came, we headed over to see her, far down in the neighbor's pasture.

And there she was, standing.

She walked naturally. Phil grabbed her collar and the vet palpated her hip, her knee, her foot. ("She's a calm one," was his comment. "I don't usually get to touch the feet of a cow just standing in a field.") No problems whatsoever.

So my title isn't really accurate. Thanks be to God, we still have fourteen cows. But if you felt a little sinking in your heart, you have experienced a little of the sorrow of farming.

Catherine's baby bull, born in July, would have been okay without continued nursing. But he does still get some good nutrition from his mom: his nose was smeared with milk when he looked up afterwards.

The vet did recommend that we get our cows more food. So Phil rolled the hula bale out along their pen. They will graze for an extra day or so in that spot.

I planted bulbs (and Phil helped some, too). We are about halfway done with the apple orchard now, and 35% done.