The temperatures dropped and the days just lingered, slowly passing. Her due date was approaching, and I began frantically researching bovine reproduction.
Unfortunately, I’m not a very patient person. I have invested all of my patience inside of three brain cells that are also in control of my emotions. Currently, two of them are fighting and the other one is on vacation, leaving me without the resources to handle this situation. I did the only thing that I knew how to do… I watched.
I watched from a distance, I watched up close, and most importantly, when I wasn’t watching, I was trying to watch via a remote camera. I began losing sleep. I set up lights in the pasture so that I could watch from my bedroom window and when that watching didn’t suffice my insatiable appetite to watch… I watched some more.
By this time, we had four camping chairs situated in the pasture. I could only sit outside for a couple of hours at a time, before I had to warm up by the pellet stove. In between sitting and watching, I managed to consult everyone that I knew.
When I went to sleep at night, I would pray that the calve was healthy and born while I slept. I think it was a similar prayer with my own children, as I couldn’t handle the anticipation. I had the nursery ready before the end of the first month of her pregnancy.
I did what I could to make the shelter dry and comfortable. I added more straw and fluffed it for her… but still there was nothing.
A day past her due date and I couldn’t handle the stress anymore. My stomach was curling up on itself and the only three brain cells that I had to control my emotions put in their two-week notice. I was an emotional wreck…
By the time Dr. Alger, our veterinarian arrived, he began asking direct questions. I answered his questions nervously. If something was wrong, the calf could die internally. Or worse… Baby could die. Somehow, Baby has become attached to me and is more of an emotional support animal than a farm cow. Regardless, I lack the mental fortitude to handle her death.
I didn’t know what to do, so I just let the professional do his job.
He is always professional and calm. He gathered his obstetric tools and medicine, and we walked towards the pasture. Once there, he methodically examined her.
He asked how we knew she was pregnant, and I told him we had a urine livestock pregnancy test. He then asked how we bred her. That’s when I get really excited, because I know the date, we bred her and I pridefully tell everyone that she is bred to a Wagyu bull.
And that’s when he carefully removed his glove and told us she isn’t pregnant…
I’m thankful nothing is wrong, but he didn’t even ask us what name we picked for the calf.
(Eric Keller is a veteran, husband, proud father of four, nurse and first-generation homesteader who can be reached at happyrootshomesteadohio@gmail.com.)
So, what name had you picked? 😻
We liked both Daisy and Peaches. We were going to let Baby Decide.