Heifer Wrasslin'

**Alan took this last summer with his phone and I stumbled upon it yesterday while cleaning out my inbox. I believe it is the Kingpin daughter, Bayliner, down below the barn yard gate, having escaped in order to eat box elder trees. I don't know what it is with that family, but they all will do whatever it takes to get to the darned things and eat them....and personally they could eat every single one on the farm right down to the roots and I wouldn't get mad.

We had three springing heifers, Rosie, my milking shorthorn show heifer, and one open heifer to bring into the cow barn yesterday. (Well actually we had several open ones, but they didn't cooperate.) 


At first they didn't even want to come down off the hill at all. They didn't want to be driven. They didn't want to come when called. They wouldn't even come down when they heard the skid steer which brings their food to them.


After waiting for a while (in the bright, crisp sunshine, not too much of a punishment) I went and got a bucket of grain. 


That got their attention.


We kind of wanted to bring all of them down and put those that are not springing up to calve in a pen in the back of the barn where can keep a better eye on them. However, Shamrock, the Jersey, Rio, a milking shorthorn, Cevin and one other Holstein wanted nothing to do with us so they are still out.


Getting the others down to the barn was only part of the equation. Getting them first into the barn was one project, then getting them into stalls or the pen, depending on how close up they are to calve was another.


It was good to have Al home. He caught some with a halter and just pulled them in and put them where we wanted them, and tolled the others with that trusty grain bucket. Liz got back from work and helped too, so although it took quite a while it went pretty well.


 Nothing like young folks to make a job go a lot easier.


Now we will have to watch them close to make sure they can handle their new locations safely. Cows can be pretty godawful dumb sometimes. I'm glad they are in though, because we need to watch the close ups real closely.

Calves and Currycomb Love

Heather's baby boy. Check out his eyeliner

In the next four weeks we have around eighteen head due to calve. It is with a mixture of awe and dread that I face this prospect. Among the "springers" are my beautiful Broadway and Liz's Fustead Emory Blitz daughter (whose name is Mendocino, but who is simply called, THE BLITZ...she gets caps even in every day life.) We care a great deal for all the cows, but there are always certain special ones that cause just a little more worry and heartache when calving time rolls around. As with any birth there is a lot that can go wrong.

Last year if you remember, Broadway had a gigantic heifer calf, breech, and it was one of the toughest deliveries I have participated in. We were thankful for the hybrid vigor of the shorties that day I can tell you. It looks as if she is carrying another big one.

I worry.

Evie, Verona, Egypt, the two Whirlhill Kingpin daughters, Zobaba and Bayliner, Heather, and several others have already had their babies, mostly bulls, alas.

Does anybody who milked cows back in the sixties remember any temperament issues with the Kingpin daughters? These two are both snarky little darlings I can tell you. They are from unrelated dams, but they are like the nasty devil twins. I have been lashed with more sodden, stinking tails and stomped at more by them than by all the other first calf heifers together.

Even Egypt, who was a real wild child all through her carefree heiferhood, is a little sweetie and loves to have me scratch her exceptionally furry head. I was currying cows yesterday and didn't even try to brush Zobaba (although Bayliner is finally liking the attention.)

You wouldn't believe how the cows are shedding. I could bed them with the hair I get off with the comb. And they love it so much! Always worth a laugh to see the heads waving and the stanchions clanging while they await their turn. I like it too. I can't even see over Lemmie's rump, she is such a big girl, and normally she is flighty and a little loony. However, when I have that currycomb, she is like a fourteen-hundred pound kitten, all cuddles and love.

Kinda like cupboard love, only this time it's currycomb love.

Party Animals

As you might guess we are not. However, Becky will turn 23 on Monday and she wanted some form of celebration. As she has a job now, she and Alan headed out, bought the movie the Sorcerer's Apprentice, and some grinders and calzone from Romano's and we sat down after milking to enjoy.

Actually I had one of the last two Dick Francis books, so I really wasn't watching much, although I certainly was sitting and enjoying. (I don't know how I missed it, but he died last year. Dickiebo had a post about it or I still wouldn't know. He was one of my favorite authors all my life.)

However, as is normal when you have animals, no party goes unpunished. While we were milking, Zobaba, a Whirlhill Kingpin heifer of Alan's, was treading and nervous and holding her tail up. We bedded her up all nice and comfy and left her alone to progress. However, that progress needed to be observed a bit.

Thus in the middle of the movie Becky went over to the barn for that purpose. Feet were showing, but nowhere near enough progress for what the clock was saying, so.....

The men went over and delivered a bouncing baby boy**** to Zo, doctored her up as needed and came back.

Alan had plenty of jokes about "you know you are a farmer when you can't have a party without having a cow........"

Ah, well, they were soon back watching their movie. We stayed up late and felt delightfully decadent for a while. I'm kinda glad this is my morning off.

****Update, upon closer inspection, the bouncing baby boy is a girl.

Frigid Friday

Brrr! As are several others among our favorite bloggers, I am looking for a January thaw. I hate to say it, but I don't think we are going to get one though. We moved animals yesterday making room for Zinnia's Whirlhill Kingpin daughter to have a stall in the milking barn.

She is now in my dear Rosie's stall and Rosie is up next to Boston in a tie stall. Frankly I hated putting her there because Boston's name really should begin with a "B" like it does, but end in "TCH". However, men have their agendas and sometimes their priorities are different than those of women.

Boston likes to claim the water bowl as her personal property and not let the animal next to her use it. This hasn't been too big a problem with big cows tied next to her, but Rose is only a yearling. Of course she is the granddaughter of Bayberry and the great granddaughter of Balsam, two of the biggest, toughest, meanest (to other cows that is) animals that we have, so maybe she will hold her own. If she has trouble the boss is going to drop her down a new water bowl that Boston can't reach. However, she is my very favorite among my animals and probably the best I own. I want her to be okay. I want her to go to the shows this summer maybe.......

Winston

Another calf born yesterday. It was an amazing morning with geese ringing up off the river through the fog like rather noisy ghosts, lower than the roof of the house and just barely visible, (but eminently very hear-able), and the air the color of a million-dollar pearl.

This has been the week for unexpected visits from assorted folks, from dear friends to the milk inspector. They are all good folks and we love to see them, but we sure had to scurry to keep up with things. The boss is working on getting in some firewood, and finishing up a couple of bits of hay. Hopefully the rain holds off a few more days. It sure is soggy out there.

Liz went up and got the new mama and baby while we were milking and brought them down. She decided to choose a name for the new one that fit the day in a proper way. This may be the first heifer ever named Winston, but she is a good 'un and we are glad to have her.

We had a real nice little half-shorty bull born the other day too, to Alan's Bayliner who is an own daughter of Whirlhill Kingpin, a bull from the sixties, which is quite an accomplishment. Bayliner is from Bayberry, so she is a half sister to my favorite cow, Broadway, dam of our shorthorn show heifer, Rose Magnolia. Alan named him Barbossa, which seemed pretty fitting as well.

Looks like another sunny day on tap for today, so when I get over the jet lag from being up until after midnight after a late and extremely exasperating meeting, I will be looking for a reason to work outdoors.....

Weather and Amish Machinery

Amish hay loader

Must hurry to make full use of the weather we are having...just about the first good weather of the summer. The boss is baling.
Chopping.
Working on machinery.

Not this machinery...this is a horsedrawn hay rake some Amishmen
left parked near here. They are hustling after hay too.

Yesterday Liz and I cleaned calf stalls and led calves. The last part was fun. I love training them to lead, even if they will never be show cows, like Northstar. They are so much nicer to handle when they are older if they are handled when young. I got to do something I have always wanted to do...lead an own daughter of SWD Valiant. I always wanted one, back in the day, but could never afford to buy one. Last year the kids went to the OHM Sale and bought some semen, and I got a heifer calf off old Beausoleil. Her name is Bastille, but I am calling her Tilly. (For you old time Holstein folks, we also have daughters of Straight Pine Elevation Pete (milking and calves) Citation R Maple (ditto), a milking Cal-Clark Board Chairman and two Whirlhill Kingpin daughters. I'll bet we are one of very few herds that do.)



Then I froze some beets. Kept on catching up on the laundry I couldn't dry all summer...no dryer so it is the line or the bars.
Did books.
Built a new fire (thanks FC, you are still helping me with that job.)
Helped unload a wagon of bales.
Milked without the usual compliment of helpers....fair week, vacation week, folks away at college.
Today more of the same, but with zucchini this time.
Not complaining though. If I could bottle this weather and stretch it out I would do it.

Hmmmm

I wonder how many of these are walking around on earth today. Not cute little Holstein heifer calves, there are millions of them. Not daughters of Alan's show cow, Bayberry, there are two of those. Not granddaughters of of sweet Balsam, two of those too.

Nope, this calf has another interesting aspect, rather an amazing one in fact. This baby is an own daughter of the Hostein bull, Whirlhill Kingpin. Alan had trouble getting Bay bred last year. She was sick when she freshened and never got as vigorous as we would have liked. I think she had hardware disease and some issues with scarring from that. Anyhow, in desperation, the last chance breeding before we had to sell her, he chose Kingpin. For some reason we have nearly always gotten a calf when we used him. This time was no exception and the heifer was a nice bonus. The unusual part of the whole affair is that Kingpin was born in 1959. He was a popular bull in the sixties and early seventies. He has been dead a very long time. However, thanks to the wonders of liquid nitrogen and artificial insemination he has a brand new daughter right here in 2007. Now if Alan will just come up with a name for her, other than Ballistic Buffalo, which is his most recent, but unacceptable to both mom and the Holstein Association choice.

***(Suggestions for good names that begin with "B" would be most appreciated at this point.)

Committee

Big discussion going on in the kitchen. Bayberry is in season. What bull, what bull? Everyone has an idea and a reason why it is the right one. Rain, Kingpin, Citation R Maple, young sire, proven bull, golden oldie, they can hear the shouting in Fonda. I am staying out of it. I have cows of my own that I need to plan matings for.

I lost one of my favorites this week, sweet little Erin from my Trixy family (pushed in a ditch by other cows, and suffocated from the weight of her stomachs when she couldn't get back up. She was fine at night milking and gone when we went out in the morning. I was sick. Really sick. I cried over a cow for Pete's sake.)

On the other hand, England, from the same family, gave me a pretty heifer calf, which I named "Encore" because she looks a lot like old Dixie. Hope I can raise her. It is heartbreaking to lose a favorite cow and exciting to get a promsing calf. The latter keeps us going, the former makes me at least want to quit. It is one thing when an animal gets sick, but to lose a healthy vibrant young one for such a stupid reason. Bah. Cows are not the sweet little placid things that a lot of people think they are. They fight like crazy, all the time, because they have a pecking order just like chickens. However, they are a hell of a lot bigger and more dangerous than chickens when they get to squabbling over who's the boss. It gets me everytime I walk by the empty stall with the grain uneaten. Farming can be a bitch.