The Warrior Calf

As I sit here roasting coffee for a customer, an experience I had today reminded me of an experience I had last year so I thought I would share.  My cows calve in late March and April.  This is great for me because I don't have to worry about frozen calves up here in northwest Montana, for the most part.   

The downside is that we're simultaneously trying to do our spring planting whilst my cows are doing their thing.  Part of the work of them having calves is that while the calves are still a little unsteady on their feet (aka less than two days old) I have to find and sit on said calves briefly so I can give them eartags and castrate them if they are bulls.   

Unfortunately, I get busy during that time of year and sometimes I fall behind.  One time, I fell about a week and a half behind when I finally caught up with one particularly elusive bull calf.   Thus, begins our story.  

My lead heifer pretty much lets me know how she feels about every situation.  She is the first to moo at me when she wants me to give her a different pasture, the first to cross into the newest paddock, the first to the hay, the salt licks, and the water trough.  She is pretty up front. 

Her first calf was a cute little bull calf.  So full of spunk and happiness that only a newborn calf can model.  He was always running around, tail in the air, and causing his young mother to run around and yell at him in exasperation due to his antics.

This little guy eluded me for several days, but then I got caught up in getting a used grain drill we had purchased ready for use.  When I made it back out to the pasture about a week and a half after he was born, I finally had another chance to grab the little guy to do what I had to do.  

Unfortunately, my opportunity on this day was when the spunky little fellow was unawares because he was latched onto his mother's udder, getting one of his eight meals of the day.   

Though it may have not been my best decision, I decided to seize the opportunity and I walked over to the calf and grabbed his opposite front leg and his rear leg and pulled him off his mother and put him on the ground while I kneeled on his neck and flank.  He must have bit down at that same moment I grabbed him because the moo that came from my lead heifer was almost exactly the same pitch and volume as a freight train.  She was pissed.

Unlike freight trains who only blow their horn three times when entering a town, my lead heifer proceeded to repeatedly moo with the same volume as a freight train, from a distance of about two inches from my left ear.

Her calf, bless his heart, took the cue from his mother and proceeded to somehow manage to get an upper rear leg free and was clearly attempting to wipe my glasses to a streak free shine with his hoof.   

When that didn't work, he decided to probe my ribcage for weaknesses with the same aforementioned hoof and managed to do so a few times before I got him under control again. 

All the while, I could smell the grassy breath of my lead heifer and my ears were starting to ring with the cacaphony of noise coming from the deepest parts of her bovine being.  And, in classic cow fashion, the rest of my herd decided to run laps around the three of us to attempt to start a whirlwind around the rabble rousers in the middle. 

I did my job, and let the now dazed little fellow up.  I the checked myself over and realized I was quite bruised, I had some blood (my own) on my hand, and both me and the calf were quite covered with old straw and new poop. 

My lead heifer took a break from screaming at me for a while, and we parted ways.  But, before leaving, I turned around and dubbed the 10 day old calf that just beat the crap out of me "Sir Loin."

I saw him today.  He said to say hello.    

Be blessed.  -Kenny

PS.  Sir Loin will be for sale late this year or early next year.   Let me know if you'd like to reserve a quarter or half!   

This is Randall. 😊