Switched at Birth: A Story of a First Calf Heifer and a Foster Mom

So, last night was fun.  I was making my 7pm walk through my cows who are in the midst of "sending forth" their offspring (aka calving).  There are distinct groups of cows in the pasture because we had put out straw as bedding for the cows in distinct areas.  Cows, prone to laying down in warm places, always congregate in these areas bedded with straw.

There was a little daylight left when I started going through the pasture and walked past the first group of seven or eight cows after taking a cursory glance over them to look for signs of being in active labor.  The next thing I saw was a newborn calf all by itself, poking around the divider fence in the feedlot.  I thought this very strange as a cow that has just given birth is usually immediately a chemically-driven helicopter mom.  But no, this newborn was alone.

I looked around and spied a very large red cow who I hadn't seen calve yet with afterbirth hanging from her backside.  Accompanying her was a small black newborn calf and a white, day old Charolais calf who was clearly just on the premises looking for a free meal. 

Seeing she was the only cow who had recently calved, I assumed she had twins.  So, I picked up the probably 70-80ish pound, very squirmy newborn who was by himself, and carried him over to the very large red cow who was quite content being harassed by the other black newborn and the day old Charolais calf.  Adding another being to the small, fuzzy, four legged creatures that were all making attempts at her udder appeared to make her that much happier.  I assumed all was well and I had done my good deed for my cows that day.

As I was walking back past that first group of cows, I discovered that I was wrong.    

One of my pregnant heifers had evidently expelled a calf, then decided to take a nap rather than get up right away to lick off her offspring like every other cow I own.  While she was allegedly taking said nap, her newborn calf decided to go exploring by himself. 

I came to the conclusion that I had carried the wrong calf to the wrong mother.   

So, I went back to the large red cow who was happily humming to her three new babies and I stopped short.  After examining the two black calves, who both were male with one being slightly larger than the other, I decided the larger one needed to go back to the heifer. 

So, I picked up the larger calf and carried it to the heifer who was now actively looking for her long lost calf.  She was both elated and overjoyed to see said new calf when I (gently) dropped it in a heap in front of her.  She proceeded to lick, sniff, and moo at this calf as my other cows tend to do when they find their misplaced babies.

I walked back down to the large red cow who had managed to get further away from me whilst pawning off the Charolais calf to its rightful mother.  She was happily mooing at the aforementioned black newborn calf and licking it, albeit tentatively.   She, unfortunately, started to look around a bit during said tentative licking.    

Which told me I took the wrong calf to the heifer.  So, I walked over, gathered up the smaller 70-80ish pound calf from next to the big red cow and proceeded to wearily carry it up the hill (the blasted red cow had walked down) towards the heifer who was wooing the wrong calf.   

I had to rest once on this third trip of carrying calves across the pasture, but eventually delivered the smaller calf to its rightful owner.  Then, I gathered up the 80-90ish pound calf for my fourth and final trip down to the far corner of the pasture. 

Now, I'm not naturally strong.   I'm not necessarily weak either, particularly since I worked out hard leading up to our wedding in February as well as building our house, but when I picked up that fattened calf to start my fourth trip, I knew it wasn't going to go well. 

I picked him up like you would carry a really large basket, cradling it in my arms, essentially.  I made it about twenty steps before my arms started to give way and the calf slowly started to slide down my torso towards the ground.

So, I stopped for a quick rest, putting the calf on the ground with his waist between my legs so he couldn't run off.  He wasn't super excited about this arrangement, so he lunged forward a few times to let me know of his feelings on the matter.  After putting my knees back in joint, I picked him up again. 

I made it about ten steps before he, once again, started sliding down my torso out of my burning arms.  I set him down for another rest.   

With only 200 steps or so to go, I had to try something different.  So, I turned the calf over, and grabbed his front legs and started sliding his butt over the ground.    

If calves could ever look at you with disdain, this little guy was doing it.  I could feel his thoughts: "Wow, seriously?  You're dragging me now?  This is ridiculous.  I can't believe you call yourself a farmer".  This calf was clearly mocking me in his mind and with his expression.  His even breathing showed nothing but contempt and impatience with my ineptitude.  

After about 20 steps of that, dragging got to be too tiring.   So, I turned him back over and helped him stand.   Then, I followed closely behind him whilst guiding him in the proper direction. 

I eventually got the calf down to the big red cow.  In hindsight, I probably should have just watched rather than get involved in the whole scene.  On the bright side, I discovered I am stronger than I was a year ago where one trip would have whipped me.  The downside, I need to work on my observation skills...