Day Sixty: The Calf
Another day of being inside in the morning and venturing out into the world in the afternoon. This afternoon I mulched around the swing set, planted some holy basil, and weeded. The kids were playing with giant pokeweed plants, which really are astounding in how fast they grow. We let them grow up around the back of our garden because the birds love them.
Jeremy came back from checking on things at the farm and said he might have to pull another calf. We don't usually have problems with calving, but this was a first-time mom and she had been laboring for a few hours with no progress. Two hooves had emerged but they hadn't moved in a while. William wanted to go up and watch a calf be born, so a little later we piled into the car and went to the field where the cows were grazing. The poor mama was still in the same shape- two hooves emerged, nothing else. And boy did I feel for her - when I was in labor with Taiya, progress got stalled for hours, contractions intensely painful but not moving things any further along. So whenever the laboring cow arched it's back and stood in the grips of a contraction I was brought back to that night in November over eight years ago, in the grips of the same wrenching pain. Jeremy went to the barn to get the giant metal calf-pulling contraption (maybe he was remembering that night too - it was no fun for any of us), and we waited, bird-watched (cattle egrets! cowbirds! swallows! bluebirds!) and looked for frogs around the pond.
We weren't able to get the calf pulled in the afternoon. The mama was up and grazing as she labored, and we couldn't get ahold of her without being too rough. We didn't want to stress her out any more than necessary so we let her be for a time. William was sad that we didn't get to see the birth. Taiya didn't really care about that, she was just enjoying playing with the puppies and their mama, Skye. We headed back to the house to make dinner, and would check on her afterward.
I was tired and uninspired, but after sitting down with a cup of green tea on the porch for a bit, I managed to piece together a dinner that satisfied everyone. William had scrambled eggs, Taiya had a can of veggie soup, and I made Jeremy and myself a salad that turned out delicious: one can of Great Northern Beans (I always feel a special kinship with this bean, being a northerner at heart, and one of my nicknames being Nina-Bean... is this weird?), some leftover potatoes, a pile of minced spearmint and garlic chives, and a dressing of the juice of one lemon, olive oil, and salt. It makes for a delicious, light salad. I also added some grated carrot and chopped red bell pepper for a splash of color, and ate it on a bed of home-grown kale. Yum!
After dinner, Jeremy went to the farm to check on the cow. When William found out Jeremy had gone without him, he had a major melt-down. So, we three at the house got our farm clothes back on, loaded up in the car and found Jeremy in the pasture. By this time, he had pulled the calf and it was dead. It had been breach, facing backwards, and so would likely never have been delivered without assistance. When we walked over, the poor mama was laying on her side, worn out. The calf lay covered in placenta, a big good-looking calf, dead just for having been positioned backwards.
William cried and cried, and said he never wanted to be a farmer. Taiya agreed, and I said they didn't have to be farmers, but if they didn't want to deal with dead animals they could always grow flowers or vegetables instead. No, they both said. Taiya wants to be a fashion designer "because you can design AND make things," and William said he wants to work in a factory. Or a store. But not on a farm. We were having this conversation as we walked back to the car, and I stopped and had them look at the whole herd grazing among the buttercups, lots of healthy, happy calves frolicking or resting in the evening light. I told them: yes, it can be awful and sad, but it is mostly a beautiful life. I wasn't trying to persuade them to become farmers - they'll be farmers if they want to, not because I want them to - but I wanted them to know why we do it.
Jeremy came back from checking on things at the farm and said he might have to pull another calf. We don't usually have problems with calving, but this was a first-time mom and she had been laboring for a few hours with no progress. Two hooves had emerged but they hadn't moved in a while. William wanted to go up and watch a calf be born, so a little later we piled into the car and went to the field where the cows were grazing. The poor mama was still in the same shape- two hooves emerged, nothing else. And boy did I feel for her - when I was in labor with Taiya, progress got stalled for hours, contractions intensely painful but not moving things any further along. So whenever the laboring cow arched it's back and stood in the grips of a contraction I was brought back to that night in November over eight years ago, in the grips of the same wrenching pain. Jeremy went to the barn to get the giant metal calf-pulling contraption (maybe he was remembering that night too - it was no fun for any of us), and we waited, bird-watched (cattle egrets! cowbirds! swallows! bluebirds!) and looked for frogs around the pond.
We weren't able to get the calf pulled in the afternoon. The mama was up and grazing as she labored, and we couldn't get ahold of her without being too rough. We didn't want to stress her out any more than necessary so we let her be for a time. William was sad that we didn't get to see the birth. Taiya didn't really care about that, she was just enjoying playing with the puppies and their mama, Skye. We headed back to the house to make dinner, and would check on her afterward.
I was tired and uninspired, but after sitting down with a cup of green tea on the porch for a bit, I managed to piece together a dinner that satisfied everyone. William had scrambled eggs, Taiya had a can of veggie soup, and I made Jeremy and myself a salad that turned out delicious: one can of Great Northern Beans (I always feel a special kinship with this bean, being a northerner at heart, and one of my nicknames being Nina-Bean... is this weird?), some leftover potatoes, a pile of minced spearmint and garlic chives, and a dressing of the juice of one lemon, olive oil, and salt. It makes for a delicious, light salad. I also added some grated carrot and chopped red bell pepper for a splash of color, and ate it on a bed of home-grown kale. Yum!
After dinner, Jeremy went to the farm to check on the cow. When William found out Jeremy had gone without him, he had a major melt-down. So, we three at the house got our farm clothes back on, loaded up in the car and found Jeremy in the pasture. By this time, he had pulled the calf and it was dead. It had been breach, facing backwards, and so would likely never have been delivered without assistance. When we walked over, the poor mama was laying on her side, worn out. The calf lay covered in placenta, a big good-looking calf, dead just for having been positioned backwards.
William cried and cried, and said he never wanted to be a farmer. Taiya agreed, and I said they didn't have to be farmers, but if they didn't want to deal with dead animals they could always grow flowers or vegetables instead. No, they both said. Taiya wants to be a fashion designer "because you can design AND make things," and William said he wants to work in a factory. Or a store. But not on a farm. We were having this conversation as we walked back to the car, and I stopped and had them look at the whole herd grazing among the buttercups, lots of healthy, happy calves frolicking or resting in the evening light. I told them: yes, it can be awful and sad, but it is mostly a beautiful life. I wasn't trying to persuade them to become farmers - they'll be farmers if they want to, not because I want them to - but I wanted them to know why we do it.
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