Farm on the M62: The reality of nature never gets easier during calving and lambing - Jill Thorp
I no longer bed the cows down with Paul as Ted enjoys doing that job way too much. When those round bales of straw arrives, it’s game on and no amount of shouting from Paul stops him from his fun. One or two of the cows join in, seeing who can hammer the round bale up and down the shed the fastest. Needless to say, I sit that game out!
The worst happened last week and despite Paul’s best effort, we lost a beautiful, big bull calf during birth. There is nothing worse than seeing a perfectly formed calf laying lifeless in the straw. He was the most exquisite smoky silver colour, every inch of him just perfect, but he never took a breath. Despite a long and difficult birth, his Mother was quick to tend to him, cleaning and nuzzling his body, urging him to life. Such a cruel waste and utterly heart-breaking. It never gets easier, it doesn’t matter how many times you experience death, the reality is it hurts and leaves us questioning what we did wrong. Late Sunday evening, Paul came into the house to tell me Chockie was calving. Chockie is a huge old girl that is our most beloved cow and named of course by the little guy when he was tiny. Hugely affectionate and always seeking a good scratch, this calf was to be her last. Desperate for a heifer and with the recent loss of the bull calf still fresh in our minds, we both flew down to the shed. She was flat out pushing with all her might, two neat little hooves protruding from her. Paul strode across the deep straw bed, kneeling behind her, but half way across to join him, I quickly diverted towards the relative safety of some pens. Chockie wasn’t alone. She was being heavily guarded by Ted. Paul ignored him, but I wasn’t about to get that close especially as he seemed quite giddy. As I’ve said earlier, he loves fresh straw and the excitement of bedding down earlier on, was still with him. The minute he set eyes on me, his excitement went up a notch. A few sudden bounces across the straw in my direction saw me scampering up the side of one of the pens, made up of our very tall and heavy cow gates. As I balanced near the top rail, Paul looked up and with a sudden look of horror mixed with an underlying hint of amusement yelled “not that one, not that pen”
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Hide AdAs he said it, I felt the rage and hot breath behind me right before a deafening roar from a protective mother was emitted. I leapt across to the next pen, much to the amusement of Paul. It was a friendly face in the next pen and I perched there for a while until Ted wandered off and Paul shouted
“I could do wi a hand down here when you’re ready”
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