I
have mentioned before that “Spring” is pretty fickle in Montana. It can be 65 above or 10 below on any day
between the first of March and the first of June.
On
the ‘official’ beginning of spring this year, it got to 55o. A few days later it is 30o with a
fresh 6” of wet snow.
Last
week we began calving in earnest, and cut in some 40 head of heavies to the calving
field. Today we began turning out those
new pairs into a bigger field where they can maintain a more adequate “social
distance” to avoid an accumulation of mud and manure, and to minimize
transmission of disease.
There
were 19 pairs in this first sweep of the field we call “the rocks” into which
we turn newer pairs soon after they calve.
We pushed these into the “bridge trap” to sort. One calf needed to be caught for the
application of a band to his testicles.
I
was riding the Blaze colt, from whom I have done very little roping. He had been quite a challenge to break, and I
still wasn’t certain about his reaction to throwing a lariat. But he has settled in nicely, and handled
well to catch that calf.
One
must be careful when turning out new pairs to be sure that every calf follows
his mother across the bridge and into the new field. We paired them out slowly and
deliberately. But most of the calves
were a couple of weeks old, and were solidly following their mamas.
Then
we swung around and cut 14 new pairs out of the calving field, and into the
now-empty “rocks” field.
Light
snow was blowing in our face the whole time, but the temperature was hovering
around freezing – not particularly unpleasant weather. Two cows were obviously going into labor, so
we pushed them on down into the calving shed.
There’s no reason for a new calf to be born into a snowbank when we have
an empty shed with a nice straw-covered floor.
It’s bad enough to be rudely thrust from a weightless, 103o
environment out onto a cold hard ground, when we can temper it with warm, dry
straw.
And
we elected to spread more of that warm, dry straw out into the field for the
rest of the heavies.
There
had been one calf born earlier in the day up on the hillside in the calving field. Once a calf has dried off and had
a good suckle, he can stand a lot of cold.
But there was a second cow nearby.
I called Eric.
“It’s
snowing too hard to see if that second cow has a calf,” I said.
Eric
was just heading out to throw off the late feed for those heavies. He soon radioed back that she had a new calf.
I
rummaged around in the glove-boxes for a pair of rubber-palmed gloves, jumped
on the quad, and headed down to the shed to tie onto the sled. The calf lay quietly in the sled, is mother
followed along easily, and now we had our fourth calf for the day, safe and
warm in the shed.
Ah,
spring.
Really glad to see you are writing again. I can once again escape life in the suburbs and live vicariously through your stories.
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