I’ve Got Some Bad News. I’m Really Sorry.

“I’ve got some bad news. I’m really sorry”

The voice on the other end was Peter, aka Farmer Pete as he calls himself, since summering some of our cattle at his beautiful property on the upper side of Berlin Pond for the last half dozen years.

I assumed the worst—had the cattle had gotten out and were gone, had a dog chased them, had one been hit by a car, had Peter gotten hurt while combing one of the animals?

“What’s going on?” I asked with trepidation.

Peter explained that his neighbor had some Belted Galloway cattle and their bull had gotten into the pasture with our cattle.

“I think he bred Zora. I am so sorry. What should I do?”

“Watch to see if the bull is interested again in 21 days. This is terrific news!”

“It is?” Farmer Pete asked in disbelief.

With bovine twins of mixed gender, the female is generally a "Free Martin", meaning she is sterile and unable to breed. While in utero, the male testosterone will destroy the female organs, leaving the female--90% of the time--unable to cycle and conceive. Two bull calves, fine. Two heifer calves, fine. One of each, not a welcome event.

"Eclipse aborted her calf. There will be on calf from Eclipse this year," Ray shared sadly in the early winter of 2022.

On May 17, 2022, much to our surprise, Eclipse delivered a healthy calf. It was a heifer. With a 50/50 chance, we assumed she was a Free Martin. Zora grew to be a beautiful heifer, super friendly and a fan favorite of our Highland House Farm Stay guests. We were not sure what to do with her, as we did not really need any more pets. We chose her to spend the summer at Farmer Pete's because she loved being combed and we knew she would get lots of attention there.

With FP's confession of the tryst between the Belty bull and Zora, and no further signs of cycling, I wrote down Zora's due date 283 days from breeding, give or take a week as in humans. Zora would be due to calve May 17, 2023. On May 10th we brought Zora into the maternity paddock in front of the barn. We like to have our cows calve in the barn, in case of assistance needed from us or the vet.

May 17th passed with Zora showing no signs of eminent delivery. On May 19th Ray was leaving to go to our other farm in Greensboro to do chores. I asked him to check the maternity paddock once more before he left, as Raisin Pie was also due to calve soon. Ray left for Greensboro.

"I'm on my way back. I'm not comfortable leaving. Zora was not acting herself. Be there in ten minutes."

Zora is a first calf heifer. You never know how a first calf heifer is going to react to this new slimy being that just exited its body, thrashing on the ground trying to get its feel under it. We are extra cautious about first calf heifer deliveries. Not long after Ray returned it was clear Zora was going into labor. We put her into the straw filled pen in the barn. After a time it was clear things were not progressing as they should. On foot could be seen, but nothing else was happening. A cow should deliver her calf within a half hour of her water breaking under normal condition. A heifer, 45 minutes to an hour.

"I'm going to have to put Zora in the squeeze chute. Get the chains ready."

A year ago, I created a calving toolbox. It has everything we need for during and after calving--all in one place, all clean and ready to go. Ray donned a shoulder length sterile glove and grabbed onto the exposed foot. A loop of chain was cinched around the foot, above the hock. Reaching in, he found another foot and pulled it out. Ray says that reaching inside a cow in labor is like being swallowed by a boa constrictor.

"Quick, get a loop around this other foot. Get the lubricant and see if you can stretch the opening to get the calve out. She is not very dilated."

I attached the chain to the second foot. Using lubricant I slid my hand around the opening. I could feel a head, which meant the calf was in the right position. A black tongue was sticking out. The tongue moved! Yay! The calf was alive.

"Get the bar. I need more leverage."

I ran to get a long pipe that used to be part of the roof rack from one of my previous Subaru Outbacks. Ray threaded that through the chain and set himself up for the hard pull. I kept trying to increase the size of the opening to allow the calf to enter the world as quickly as possible.

"Here it comes," I shouted as Ray tumbled over backwards.

As soon as the head cleared the opening, the rest of the calf careened out onto the floor behind Zora. We rubbed the calf with towels to stimulate its breathing, cleared its mouth of any mucous, trimmed the navel and doused it with iodine, and gave it a BoSe injection of Vitamin E and Selenium. The calf was taken into the waiting pen. Zora was let out of the squeeze chute to meet her new baby.

Often calves that have had a challenging birth are a bit logy and lethargic. Not this one. Within five minutes of exiting the womb, it had its head up looking around as if to ask what all the fuss was about? For Zora it was love at first sight. She licked her calf and encouraged it to stand up. And stand up it did. Within 30 minutes it was nursing like a champ on Zora's perfect udder.

"It's a heifer," Ray pronounced.

Zelda is 1/2 Belted Galloway, 3/8 Shorthorn, 1/8 Highland, a first for us. We let Farmer Pete know he is a "Grandpa" and thanked him for the Belty bull that broke through his fence, violating Zora in the best way.

Zelda's black hair shines like patent leather, and her white belly ring is as bright as new fallen snow. She is frisky and healthy and brings us joy each time we go to the barn.

Saved that one.