We saw the storm on the radar. It looked promising at first. Big splotches of red surrounded by green. Maybe it was even going to come over us?

The red faded. Green means nothing more than that there is a cloud. It likes to tease us with promises of rain never kept. Not a drop fell here.

This morning fires were the top subject of all local news. In the hills, in the trees, not near far enough away from us.

I left this morning to take advantage of cooler weather and get some fence checked. There’s not much for grass out there, but it might make a month or twos grazing. Turning out of the drive I saw the plume of smoke. As the wind shifted about the air was heavy with the scent. Tree smoke and grass smoke have very different smells. Something I would rather not know personally.

At the pasture the light shone yellow. Shadows were brown not grey. I worried about driving the old pickup through the grass to check the fence. Her lack of a catalytic converter always comforts me. But in reality, there wasn’t enough grass there to reach a muffler. Either way we made it around that part of the fence without starting any new fires.

The green grass is barely there. Cheat grass has gone to seed at an inch or so tall. The weeds are shriveling and dying already. I drove right through the creek bottom where it is usually swampy and wet. It makes getting across the pasture easier, but isn’t worth the cost.

There’s another chance of rain Sunday. It gets to where you almost dread it because storms mean lightening. Lightening means more fire. At least as things stand now we have some old grass from last year to graze.

I lost my calf chains.

they’re like a choke chain people use on dogs. Same basic idea but usually longer. They get wrapped around a calves feet to help out when the cow is having trouble. You have to reach up inside there and get the chain around a hoof that you can’t see. While being tightly encased in cow. They’re complicated but very useful.

While I was feeding this morning there was a cow out there messing around. She was obviously working on calving but wouldn’t settle down and get to it. I was watching her. Waiting for the time to be right to help, or for her to get down to it on her own. As I finished feeding she started claiming one of the calves born over night. She had decided it would be easier ti take one that was already born than to fight with this calf of hers any longer.

I finished up and went to separate them. That was when I noticed the dreaded upside down feet. Calf hooves pointing down instead of up. The calf was coming backwards.

In order to get her in I had to bring the pair. She was not leaving ‘her’ calf. That made it much easier really. I could focus on moving the very young calf and she would follow. There was a bit of a hurry. When calves are backwards each contraction is pushing the fluids into the lungs. The umbilical cord comes out before the nose so once it breaks the calf will suffocate. But sometimes going slow is going fast. She was up to the chute in no time.

I got my chains on and the calf puller. Had that calf out pretty quick. It was still alive even! I was afraid I would have been too late. Finished pulling him out with the chains. Pulled him out into the barn, away from the chute, with the chains. Then got him up into recovery position. Made sure he was still breathing a few times. Let the cow out to lick him up, help him with that breathing, deciding to stay alive, stuff. Hauled the puller out to the hydrant to wash it up. And realized I didn’t have my chains.

Went back into the barn. They weren’t on the table. They weren’t on the chute. They weren’t on the calf. They weren’t hanging on a wall. I didn’t see them in the dirt around the calf. But she was licking on him and I didn’t want to bother her. He needed licked on and she stopped every time I looked in at her.

I do this constantly. Have something in my hands one minute then it is gone completely the next with me having no memory at all of every having done anything with it. Whatever it may be. Luckily my children are pretty noisy and keep themselves from being lost. My head seems to be stuck on pretty tightly. Anything else I touch is likely to disappear.

Pretty sure the chains aren’t inside the cow. Might need to double check that.

We couldn’t sleep. Again. As usual.

Might as well go check cows. No point in laying here not sleeping as long as we’re also calving.

It was warm, for an early morning in March. Above freezing. The sun was starting to peak over the horizon. Summer is nearly here, getting light so early. But not quite light enough to be able to see the cows clearly. We brought along lights anyway.

Nothing new in the heifer pen. Just cows laying around sleeping or chewing their cud.

One cow looking like she’s getting ready to start in the cow pen. A lot more to check here. Bigger pen, more cows. A calf born yesterday here. A cow standing around there. A cow laying down that gets up as we go by. Some are more nervous than others about us walking through. A pile of poop behind her as she stands. Cows can build mountains of poop if they lay in one spot long. Eating, chewing, pooping, and the mountain grows.

But. This pile was wet. Slimy. It reflected back the glow of our lights in sparkles. It was a calf! They can be hard to tell from the poop sometimes. A brand new calf. She must have had him seconds before we walked through and the cow hadn’t gotten up yet. Now she was up and she wasn’t cheerful.

In the quick flash of our light over her ear tag I recognized her. Number 2 317. The heifer to commemorate 317s 10th year. 317 was a good cow, but never a quiet cow. Although she is settling with age her calves are getting crazier each year. The last one I didn’t keep, not even as much as I love the cow. The heifer was crashing into fences and on the fight just from the light pressure of me sorting as I chose heifers. The others stood quietly and calm.

The shine pool of calf laid there on the ground still and unmoving. The cow bellered relentlessly pacing around it. Upset by the lights. Upset we were there. I wanted to bad to make sure the calf was alive. That the bag was off his nose and he could breath. That his neck wasn’t kinked causing him to suffocate under his own weight. The cow made it clear that wasn’t happening.

Lights off I moved for a better view. Again and again, trying to see some sign he was alive. Trying to stay far enough away not to be eaten. Finally the glow of his eyes reflecting back at me flashed. He had blinked. Then again. He was alive. We were not sticking around.

In the far corner another new calf. This one older, up and moving around. A white spot marked his forehead. Moving a bit too much. Spooked by us he jumped and crashed into the fence with a resounding clang. His mom bellered. The cow behind us with the new calf bellered. The white face calf bolted crashed into the fence again. His mom took after him in coyote mode. We were in the middle. In the dark, mostly. A cow on each side screaming loudly.

I admit to cowering against my husband. In the flash of lights through the dark, noise and commotion from each side and not sure if there was a threat or where it would come from it was hard to figure out where to run too.

He took my hand and walked calmly forward. The white face calf stopped bouncing off the fences. 2 317 stayed over her calf calling frantically for him to get up. We walked through the rest of the cows quietly. Most of them seeing no reason to rise from their comfortable positions.

I swung over to make sure 2 317’s calf was alive. He had his head up and was starting to come alive. We would very happily leave her in peace.

.

We had the second calf of the year born this morning. I was scared walking out there and seeing a tiny calf standing alone. It was 6 degrees when I left the house.

But the calf was fine! Up and had nursed already. Heifers are so bad at being moms, but not this one. She had licked him up and let him nurse. The things that kept him alive in the cold weather. The other heifers hadn’t hurt him in their curiosity. It was all good.

I walked them both up to the front corrals after feeding. Brisket and Fatty needed some company. It isn’t good for cow or calf to be all alone.

The problem with these early calves and heifers is that I have no where to go with them. It would be nice to have them out of the close corrals, out of the way. But, heifers aren’t good at being moms. They might care for their calves, let them nurse and watch after them.

But, coyotes are awful. They will eat a young calf alive. Literally. Start chewing from the back end until the calf eventually bleeds out. It takes awhile. Heifers aren’t great at keeping an eye on their calves and protecting them. Especially when there are only two of them.

So I will hold them up close to the buildings where they should be safe. Safer at least. Until I have many more calves and hopefully an older cow or two. Then they can go to the farther out corrals.

Calving will be starting in earnest in the next couple weeks. They wont have to stay up here too long.

I tried really hard to get pictures of Fatty next to the new calf, 424 if we want names. He is so much bigger already than she is. And he’s still small. A much more normally ‘small’ calf. My old Jersey bull, Oak, threw really nice, nearly perfect, heifer calves. Small, energetic, would hop up on their own and be off running within an hour. Too bad he decided he wanted to eat people.

Fatty at a week old is still much smaller than this brand new, couple hour old, calf. I tried really hard to get picture of them next to each other but their moms were not happy about them visiting or about me being there trying to get pictures.