Me and Nicolas (part 3)

 I may have been alone going up in to the pasture to check on the newborn, but back in the winery Diane was doing her thing while Laurie was waiting for a report from the back field. They didn't expect me to walk in, calf in arms.

Laurie had experience with horses and colts, so she came right over to check out what I had brought into the winery. She touched the calf and realized right away that its legs were frozen stiff. The calf was shivering too, but with significantly reduced energy the shivering was subdued, though very real. Laurie jumped right to it as I lay the calf down on some old blankets. She proceeded to do most of the washing with warm towels, and somewhere we managed to get our hands on an electric warming pad to place on the legs. Colostrum replacement was the next item of concern; the calf hadn't had any of its mother's milk all day, and it needed to have some to provide the antibodies that help prevent disease.

I raced down to our local feed store while Laurie took control of warming up the calf. This is like a first-time father being asked to get baby formula, but I also needed a bottle feeder, and anything else I could grab to meet the needs of this latest adventure. I read the instructions on the packet, and asked Susan at the counter if this is all I needed. It was one of those questions I just asked; every country girl knows these answers, right?

I sped back home and put together a small bottle of formula for the calf, and while Laurie held its head up we pried its lips apart to force the nipple in. Fortunately some natural instinct took over, and the calf proceeded to down the warm fluids. Up to now it hadn't really moved much, but with the colostrum you could see it awakening and realizing we were there to help it along.

Evening was approaching, and we made a small bunk, and we also believed that we needed some sort of crib or structure to keep it in place should it decide to pop up. We tilted 3 tables over on their sides and made a 3-walled fence of sorts around the calf as it lay bundled in all the blankets that had been gathered up. It was Laurie that came up with a name: Nicolas. It seemed proper, since it was December 14th after all (and it was a boy). Without objection and with no great alternatives,  Nicolas it was then. 

One of the things "they" tell you is to never name your farm animals, at least those that some day you might want to eat. Little did Nicolas know that naming it may probably prevented it from being prime rib some day.

Being new to this type of parenting, I went home for dinner only to return to stay the night, sleeping on the couch in the function room, being ready for anything that might be unexpected. I watched a little t.v., checked on Nicolas easily a half dozen times, and went back to the couch. Oh my, the noises you hear in a big new structure !  (TBC)

Me and Nicolas (part 2)

 It was the end of the day and the sky was overcast. Still fairly cold; the sun never really came out to warm the air or the soils. As a new "Father" I eagerly opened the gate to the pasture and started my trek up to the new calf. I was on the watch for all the other cows; when there is a newborn they tend to follow me closely as I approach the new addition. They also spot where the mother is, and if she is near the calf guarding it they tend to lay back and let her do her protective thing.

And that is where I found D44A, standing over the calf. Well, not exactly. She was easily 15 or 20 feet away, but quite aware of my approaching, moving her eyes from me to the calf, back to me and then the calf.  I stopped short to try to make sure the mother didn't consider me a threat. I stood and watched. Mom did nothing.

But something was seriously wrong. The calf had not really moved from where I saw it this morning. It had been born in a pool of mud, with its head barely above the muck. By now the calf should have at least been on its wobbly legs to get some warm cow's milk, and I didn't see where that might have happened. The new mother didn't seem to have a clue as to what to do.....that is, nose the calf out of the mud and coerce it into grabbing a tit full of milk.

Just a month before I had an incident where I blamed myself for not acting fast enough to save an animal. It was a goat then that seemed out of sorts, and by the time I brought it to the vet it had passed. It was a sad day then and I took it personally. I wasn't going to let it happen this time. I knew if I walked away the calf would sink further into the mud and perish overnight. I had to take action even at the risk of the cow charging me.

So here I was, wearing my western barn jacket and a lined pair of work gloves, I slowly walked towards the calf. Mom watched me but didn't make a move. When a cow is pissed it may make a head drop, or maybe a hoof stomp. Sometimes they just charge. Ugh.  But she didn't even step towards me.

I try to understand this in human behavior terms. It was very cold that day, and up until then eating hay was the primary decision to be made; store up some carbos to get through the night. Licking off mud just didn't seem like a better alternative. As a new mom she didn't have any past experiences to rely on for the proper procedure for nurturing a baby. The calf was an inconvenience, and I was there to resolve this indifference.

I reached in the glob of mud, put my arms around the calf who was too tired and too cold to even whine. I brought it up to my chest, not caring about how my jacket would look. I just wanted this calf to survive; it wasn't going to die on my watch.

I slowly walked down to the gate, opened it up, went on the other side and locked it back up. Mom never followed and the other cows basically said "if she doesn't care, neither do we". Back to eating hay......there is another cold night ahead of us. (TBC)

Me and Nicolas

For those that have followed our vineyard, and winery, on this blog, they know that there is more to this blog than just grapes. It is a working farm too. It wasn't something we just happened to fall upon when we bought the property. It was a conscious decision to return White Oak Farm to being an operating farm (within reason). The original farm, run by Harry Spratley, had raised carriage horses. Opting not to fall completely in his footsteps, primarily because taking care of a horse is much like a sailboat with its never ending desire to suck money out of your pocket, we (meaning me, since Diane says all the animals are my doing) decided to go for cattle and goats.

Many of my hair-raising tales include these ruminants, and so it continues as we approached the end of the 2018 year.

Wow! Back up the clock 20 months (from August 2020). I started this blog in December 2018 and never finished it. A lot has happened since then.....2019 being one thing, and this COVID19 pandemic being another. The Winery did well in 2019, and like most businesses who are in the tourism industry, not so well in 2020. But this and many of the upcoming blogs will be about Nicolas. "Who's Nicolas?" you might ask.

Here is is.

As the story begins I do my walk up to the cattle pasture generally twice a day. Only out of habit do I count the cattle; I primarily visit to make sure they haven't escaped or somehow broken the water hydrant which can lead to flooding. So on this morning of December 14th, 2018, I went up and walked through the herd, only to find D44A hovering over a newborn calf. It was her first calf, the one one that "graduates" her from being a heifer to a cow. It was cold that day, and as a new mom she was a bit perplexed. The calf was dropped in a pool of mud, and it was the coldest day of the year so far.

I knew enough to give it some space. New mothers tend to be a little testy when someone  is around their new calves. Doesn't really matter how well they know you; you come across as a threat regardless. After seeing this new arrival I went back to the house and made the birth announcement and went on with my daily chores. It wasn't until late afternoon when the newborn's future was to be determined.  (TBC)