More tales from the key drive

2004 Farm Side this time and much in the same vein as one a little while ago. Sorry about doing this but we are so insanely busy these days....that pesky internship will be over soon though.

Last night

Back in 2001 I told you about some types of cows that grace the average dairy farm, from Feed-Flinging Freda to Light Foot Lucy. Recently I realized that there are personality types among calves as well. You might notice this especially when, for one reason or another, (such as the regular stalls being full), there are baby cows tied in all sorts of weird and wonderful places around the barn. A very common and painful calf is the Knee-Buckin’ Biter. These little darlings know darned well that anything human probably has a bucket of milk secreted somewhere upon their person. KBB’s obviously believe that if they grab that human by the side of the leg, dig in their lower front teeth, and punch very, very hard with their flinty little heads, the bucket of milk will instantly be forthcoming. Actually the only thing forthcoming is the howl of pain produced by the poor human when their knee is chopped from under them while several precise curls of flesh are gouged away by chisel-like baby teeth. One of the twins that was born last week is a ferocious Knee-Buckin’ Biter. I have learned to squeeze around her, just out of reach of her eager mouth, but she nailed Ralph good this morning, much to his painful dismay.

Then there is the High-Kickin’ Heeler calf. A calf of this persuasion will stand quite still, calmly munching grain, as you walk by. Molasses wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Then just as you get almost past, but still nicely in reach, she will thrust both hind feet skyward, as if performing the Highland fling before an audience of thousands. Hoofs will flash past your head making you flinch in terror and manure will splatter all over you. And that’s if she misses. If she connects, well, all I can say is ouch.

More of a nuisance than a danger is the Rope-Chewing Chaser. These calves can’t seem to get enough fiber in their diet, no matter how much forage they eat. If they are tied properly with collars and chains they cause few problems, but woe betide the farmer who ties one up with some handy dandy bailing twine. Sweet little calfie-poo will gaze introspectively ceiling ward without a care in the world, all the while contemplatively chewing and eating the rope that ties her up, the one that holds her water bucket, and any loose twine she finds lying around too. Besides being the one that is running gleefully up and down the aisle every time you come to the barn, she is also the one who has all kinds of tummy problems caused by eating string.

There is a whole subset of calves that become apparent when someone begins training for the show season. First is the Thick-Headed Thrower calf. These little fools don’t seem to realize that the most pampered and beloved calves in the world grow up in a show string. As soon as a calf of this type has a halter placed on her noggin (which is apparently empty) and is asked to come along quietly, she revolts ala Gandhi.

She rolls her eyes, tosses her head, throws herself up side down (preferably in the gutter) and lies there as if taken suddenly dead. No amount of pulling or cajoling will induce her to stand up until she is positive that she has won the battle. Calves of this sort miss all the fun of going to the fair and being patted, puffed and coddled all together.

People-Pinching-Punchers are an alternative form of show calf. They are all too happy to move, but are lacking in both braking mechanism and spatial judgment. A PPP calf will squash you flat against a wall in the blink of an eye. She will also gladly drag you to the wash rack at a canter without regard to obstacles, such as people, baby strollers, Hereford bulls the size of semis, or mounds of hay bales belonging to someone else. PPP’s will clear lawn chairs and leap tall buildings at a single bound. Nobody likes them; everybody has them.

Then there are the Toe-Tapping-Topplers. These little sweethearts neither play dead nor run over your prone body (after they render it that way). Instead a TTT bides her time, strolling elegantly around the show ring, head held high and proud, looking like the star of the show that she knows she is. Then, just when the judge, (and all the spectators), are looking right at her (and you, of course), she steps firmly on your foot anchoring you solidly in place. She then nudges you firmly with her shoulder, dumping you neatly into the shavings in the ring. (At least you hope it is only shavings.) Every one laughs and you look monumentally silly. Your foot hurts like heck too.

The garden pond is beginning to shape up a little

Naturally, not unlike the Plain Old Polly milk cow, who does her job day in and day out without theatrics or fanfare, there is the Lovely-Little-Lady calf. LLL’s don’t kick, bite, or run rampant through the barn raising Cain. These ordinary critters stay where they are put, eat cow feed instead of body parts, and treat people with respect and affection. We have one of those right now; a KPat daughter named Frieland KPat Evidence. (We call her Evie). One of Becky’s babies, she stands tied on the corner of a busy walkway, right next to the curb where we like to sit while we wait for the last few cows to finish milking. We avoid tying calves there when we can, as they turn into KBB’S or HKH’s very quickly and make everybody miserable when they sit there resting their tired feet. However, Evie just eats, moves her fanny out of your way when you walk by, and lays her head in any convenient lap (if ear scratches are offered by the lap’s owner). Needless to say I wouldn’t mind having a dozen Evies. However, like all barns, ours is full of all the other kinds.

***Evie is out at pasture now expecting her first calf. She will join the milking string next month I think. However, as in a normal spring we have a barn full of KBBs HKHs and several sweet little LLLS, notably November, Simple Miracles, Egypt, Dalkeith and Asaki