Number 8, And The Calf That Almost Wasn’t.

I don’t know how closely many of you follow the signs of the moon.  There are many farmers out there that really believe that the movements of the moon and stars and sun have an awful lot to do with how a person ought to operate his farm.  For example, if a person were to plant seeds, he ought to do it when the moon is at a certain point in its cycle, and if you’re going to weed, or harvest, there are “good” and “bad” times to do those things too.

I have heard that the moon’s cycles have an effect on livestock too.  I can’t tell you for sure what to think, but according to J. Gruber’s Garden and Farm Almanac 2013, the moon sign changed on Tuesday.  And I can’t tell you for sure that the moon caused it, but I had two cows begin signs of labor on the same day.

The cows in question were Number 2 and Number 8.  As I am writing this on Wednesday evening, Number 2 has still not given birth.  She looks like she’s getting closer though.

Number 8, on the other hand, decided that last evening was a great time to have a calf.  I knew when I looked out of the window at around six, and saw her standing all by herself down by the creek that she was going to go soon.

Whenever we have a cow showing signs of giving birth, I like to stay close-by and watch to make sure everything goes alright.  I would go out and check on her from time to time to make sure she was progressing nicely.  After supper, I went out to check her again and she had started to have her calf.  I stayed outside to watch.  It’s fun to watch the birthing instincts at work.  Every time she would have a contraction, she would spin around really quick to see if there was a new baby calf to greet her.  I was about 50 feet from ol’ Number 8 when the little one arrived.  That is usually the part that makes me the most tense.  At first the calf lays so still and lifeless.  Somehow, the Good Lord has programmed into the animals just when to spring to life.   This time was different.  I waited…and waited…but the calf didn’t begin to move.  Twenty or thirty seconds ticked by, but it seemed longer to me I’m sure.    I moved in closer for a look, wondering if it was stillborn, or if there was some trouble.   When I got close, it’s mother was licking it and nudging it with her nose trying to get it to try and stand up, I could see that this newborn calf did have a problem.  When the mother had delivered, she was lying down.  The birth had been very slow and non-violent, unlike many others that drop their calves from a standing position.  Also the calf was lying with its head slightly downhill.  Because of this gentle birth, the sac holding the calf had not broken away, and there was still a large portion of the sac covering the calf’s head and front quarters.  I could see that the calf was drowning, unable to breathe.

I almost hesitated to help.  But I didn’t.  I moved close and reached down to free the calf’s head.  There were, at the time, two instincts of my own at work.  (You all know how in these times many thoughts of considerable size can run through your head in less time than we think is possible.  Funny how that works.)  As I was reaching down to detach the tissue, the first nano-second of thought was that I was about to get very messy.  The second thought was that I needed to help this calf, and that messiness had never stopped me or anyone else before!

As soon as I had uncovered the little calf’s snout he began to sputter and breathe.  Not thirty seconds later he began to try and stand up.

Perhaps the calf would have been fine without my intervention.  Maybe the mother would have somehow licked or knocked away that mucous-like membrane and the calf would have lived.  Still, I can’t help but feel proud to have been there and taken part in what was perhaps the saving this little calf’s life.  I came into the house a happy farmer.