No Vacancy.

I'm falling behind. These images are from eleven days ago. Fearing the storm that was coming, I put all the cows and calves in the corrals. While feeding in the evening we noticed one of the calves was so weak as to be staggering. He possibly had scours, which is severe diarrhea. His mother also looked to be suffering from a uterine infection, and we were also worried she might have mastitis. She was too far from calving for me to treat the uterine infection, and I didn't have scours medicine, and it was getting late so we called the vet, Doc Mike Coakley. As always, he came to the rescue. Dr. Coakley, who goes by 'Doc' or 'Mike' is unbelievably knowledgeable, experienced, and amiable. He's grown so accustomed to my incessant questions that he now just automatically starts describing his diagnosis, treatment,and medicines, in full detail. I try to keep up. 

Doc visits with Gary while he fills multiple syringes at the back of his F350 which has everything, and I mean everything, in it.

The heifer, her head locked in the head gate of the calving chute awaits treatment. She did have a uterine infection, but not mastitis. 

Large animals get large doses. Really large doses. Doc likes Bio-mycin, a broad-spectrum antibiotic, for these bigger doses because it is less expensive. She also received intrauterine penicillin and a shot of Banamine, an anti-inflammatory, to knock down her fever.

The calf we simply pinned between two gates and I stood behind him. He was in no condition to fight us. He received shots of Banamine for his fever, an antibiotic called Nu-flor, a vitamin B complex, and an oral dose of Gentamicin for possible E-coli in the gut. The general rule of thumb is to throw everything you have at them as it may be your only opportunity. Fortunately, he wasn't  too dehydrated yet, or we would have tubed him with electrolytes.

This is the calving barn. We sometimes refer to it as the Hereford Hotel which is strange since we don't have any Hereford cows anymore. It has four stalls, the second being the calving chute.

After Doc left, the storm rolled in. We obviously didn't get much snow but the storm kicked off a rash of heifer births throughout the night. This typically happens with low pressure systems. This is the morning after the storm, and though it is hard to see in the photo, all the rooms are occupied, even the pen outside. No vacancy.

The other thing the photo doesn't show is how tired I was. It was one of those nights where I was checking the heifers every two or three hours. It is also important to keep in mind that we have a small and easily managed herd. Maret has students at NJC who are calving out 200, 300, maybe 500 cows at their homes. Think about that for a minute.

At dawn I had to pull the calf from the heifer in the first pen and it was stillborn. I don't know why it died; I think I simply waited too long to intercede. I dragged the calf to my pickup and loaded it on the tailgate.  It left a trail in the snow like someone had pulled a sled.

Down in the hills we farm some fields that have a wild serpentine grass creek cutting through them. It is a long way from any neighbors or herds of cattle. This is where I dumped the calf. Coyotes will clean up the carcass as you saw in the first entry. The sun was warm and the snow was already melting quickly, but I scrapped up a handful of it to clean the blood out of the pickup bed. I didn't know it yet but the doctored heifer and calf would fully recover. I went home and took a nap.

Comments

[Penny]

Ned, I remember years ago, sitting and listening to you talk about calving. I am again reminded of the high drama of this life and death scene, the fragility of these animals, and yet their toughness. It has to really hurt to loose against nature. They may not be pets, but there is dignity to their contribution. And Mike doesn't look a year older than when I last had him vet one of my horses!