Moonlight peeked through the limbs of the trees and cast a soft glow around us.
Midnight. A soft springtime breeze caressed us as we slowly made our way through the dim woods. I called softy: nuuuu. I sang a bit of a lullaby and stopped to wait for the answering "nuuus."
There they were.
We made our way to the herd. Sure enough, there's Val. They wouldn't let her give birth alone. The new already born calves of the herd are gathered around the soon to be new mother. Their breath slightly steaming in the cool spring night. Close enough to warm her.
We settled in.
Talking to her soothingly. We pet her. Rub her. Check the calf. Wait.
Time passes. We chat with the cowgirls and calves. I softly sing some more.
Val's having trouble. One of us at her head; the other reaches in to grab the calf to pull.
Rhythmic pulls. Tugs. Here comes the calf. Val is fine; the calf is fine.
It's a girl.
|Val with her day old calf.|
Note: When we had cattle, we kept a very close eye on our first time heifers (young cows giving birth for the first time). This meant in-the-middle-of-the night hikes with flashlights and lanterns.
When cows are getting ready to calve, they like to be alone. They wander off to find a good private place. At our place, that didn't work so well. It may have been because I raised my cows as bottle calves and they'd all been together their whole lives.
For us this meant: find the herd, you'll find the heifer.
We're participating in the Thursday’s Barks and Bytes Blog hop hosted by 2 Brown Dogs and Heart Like a Dog. The Barks and Bytes hop is for anything at all and all bloggers are welcome. You don’t have to be a dog blog to join.