Baby Moo Cows!

Apparently one bull got a little feisty and jumped the fence into the cow pasture a few weeks before planned.  Normally the ranch plans calving season to start early February.  Two had already been born by the time all had returned to the ranch on January 11th, but they did not survive because the mamas were still way out in the fields and calves were not yet on anyone's radar.  If they are slightly premie and do not know how to suck on their own then they will die in a matter of a couple days. 

The calf that did not make it.  Sad, yet intriguing.  Took over two weeks for coyotes and scavengers to do anything with it.

So, all the impending mamas who were big enough to possibly birth in the next three weeks were brought into the calving pasture.  One day later I awoke to see one cow off on her own.  I found her smart for finding her own patch of grass while the others fought over the same swatches in the middle.  But then the patch moved -- and lifted its head -- IT'S A BABY! 

Mama nuzzled it.  It got on its forelegs, then toppled over.

SO CUTE.  EXPLODING IN CUTENESS. 

I sprinted to my phone to text the ranch owners.  Sprinted back to the window.  Mama nuzzled and licked some more.  Baby tried its hind legs, bobbled and fell over again.  Not long thereafter D appeared, walked over to assess Mama.  Most are devoted to their offspring, but every so often a mama is defensive to the point of charging or kicking at humans.  This one kept leaning its head forward but was otherwise completely benign.  D walked away to grab a sled.  When he returned Baby jumped up onto all fours with legs sprawled out in a big X. 

BABY STANDING!  SOOOOO CUTE!!!  I was just a wee bit excited....

D placed the sled next to Baby and waited for the right moment in its swaying to tip it onto the sled.  They he drug it into the corral with Mama right at its tail. 

One hour later we saw another mama pulled away from the rest.  Her head jerked back and forth; picked up her hooves repeatedly; basically looked very uncomfortable.  She had turned to face away from our window when her back flexed, tail lifted, and out poured buckets of fluid.  Nathan commented on the volume of pee.  I told him I was positive that was not pee.  He's got a little learnin' to do.

The next day we saw two little calves and their mamas in the inner corral.  A week later now, and Baby is now bounding and skipping alongside Mama.  

Baby!  One week old.

Last night I went to empty some compost by the west fence line.  Just as I got there I became recipient to the loudest, meanest, angriest moo I've ever heard.  I looked over in the moonlight and Mama (a new Mama) was facing directly toward me, eying my every move from 40 feet away and across a fence.  She mooed/yelled again as I walked back toward the house.  I wondered out loud if she had a baby and was being defensive.  Nathan went out moments later to empty out the ash bucket.  He took a headlamp and investigated.  Surely enough, another calf.  We again informed the crew.

Turns out this Mama was very sweet and allowing.  Nathan and I watched in full enamor while T and V worked with flashlights to assess and then get Baby and Mama inside the corrals.  I ran into T this afternoon, who said this calf had been a bit of a premie and needed help to learn how to eat.  Had we not caught it and let them know then Baby probably would not have made it overnight. 

I've counted about a half dozen total calves so far.  Apparently come February there will be something along the lines of 20 births per day.  Every time I am by a window and/or every five minutes I find myself searching for new calves.  We don't have a TV.  This is ridiculously entertaining.

Cattle confusion

It is high cattle drive season around here.  All the cattle has been/is being brought back in chunks from the foothills and up in the mountains.  The family has owned and operated the ranch for over 100 years, and has always maintained natural raised, grass fed beef, herded by horse and foot and directing traffic. 

Last Tuesday, during my first week of work at the new job, I turned off the main strip onto our county road, headed north, only to find the turn-off blocked.  Cattle were heading south before turning into a field opposite the ranch homestead, and vehicles lined the homestead entrance to keep the herd flowing into the correct gate.  I offered to go the back route (off road passage that sneaks along the river), but there was enough of a break in the herd that they could move the vehicles and let me through. 

It is incredibly intriguing to watch these beasts ranging 600 to 1200 pounds lumber down the road in parade.   Their heads bob with every step.  Awkward moos trill high and low, occasionally gruff.  They all poop without blinking, without pausing, without even lifting their tail half the time.  Anyone who works in a hospital accrues new poop stories every day, no matter your intended interaction with a patient.  So as I see the poop flying I can only think it a strange version of continence, where there is absolutely no regard for how it comes out, where it comes out, and what other body parts it may cover in the mean time.  But I digress.

Yesterday, late afternoon, I stepped outside intending to check the oil level of my car.  I heard the peculiarly shrill mooing from afar, so looked into the field.  All the cattle were pinned in the northeast corner, acting somewhat chaotic.  Then I saw the latest parade as it turned the corner onto our road.  I immediately dropped the oil bottle on the ground, ran inside to grab my camera, and ran down the homestead drive to get video of the drive.  I got within 50 feet of road when the lead cow reached the turn-off, and I stopped dead once realizing the drive led them into the open (read: non-fenced) section of field by the homestead drive. 

If they got confused as to where to go, then they could head straight toward me.  Davy said the cattle know the ranch and are happy to return, but does that mean they are also happy to comply with the drive home or are they as irritated as their anti-tonal moo choir sounds?  They piled into the open field and immediately bottle-necked.  Tracy, on horse, swept back and forth trying to keep them moving together.  I had no idea where they were supposed to be going.  All the cattle in abutting fields raced alongside the fences next to the herd.  "Where are you going?  Am I supposed to go to?  You are running - we are running!" 

Davy's father, who used to operate the ranch and still helps out a bit, was on foot.  His attempts to keep them moving were also futile.  As the number of cattle in one spot grew, they filled the field over to the edge of the homestead, which luckily had a fence.  They kept turning toward the homestead road, and Davy's father kept shooing them the other way. 

"He's got so many cattle.  It's crazy!"

Apparently the goal was to use a different gate than usual to enter the field just south of the homestead.  To get to it, the cattle had to cross the open field diagonally.  Cows, it seems, do not understand once the self-evident tunnel of only forward movement gives way to open ended geometry.  For those of you reflecting on the simple nature of the cow brain, don't think so fast.  It is also exactly what happens to runners if a course is not flagged or blocked off to the nth degree.  Just ask those who missed a turn off during a trail race because they followed others and stopped looking for the dozens of florescent flags leading them the other way. 

To make matters worse, the cattle already inside the destination field were just as riled up.  They saw the open gate and tried to exit to be with their newly returned brethren in the chaotic field.  The gate?  Now clogged with cattle all wedged together.

Whoa, Nelly.

At that point I decided to retreat so that my presence did not become a liability.  Not sure which gate they used, but within the next twenty minutes all the cattle were finally in the intended pasture. 

I kept laughing at the ordeal for the rest of the night, especially thinking of the cows fenced in just north of the homestead road.  There are two particular sienna brown cows with white faces who are always very curious.  They maintained their faces behind a post as though it made them invisible while they watched me take my pictures.  Not even a bottleneck and pandemonium finish to the drive could deter their peek-a-boo.