That means:
-Late night checks for TJ
-Little baby mammals wobbling around the pasture
-Bottle feeding babies without mammas
-Chit chats with Chris, farm-hand and brother-in-law
-Manure smell when the weather warms
-TJ home much of the day :)
-Unfortunate deaths when the weather is too cold
This is an unfortunate story to be told, but it will be a fond memory, so I would like to tell it here.
Since it is only our second week back, our first week was BUSY! The Montana reception was the first weekend, family was coming in on Friday and my Mom was coming Thursday! The house was full of piles of gifts, my boxes, and the families' stuff making its way out. It was overwhelming at times. I got to work and worked cleaning out cupboards, washing our new stuff, boxing up old stuff, and finding a place for everything. I cleaned the bathroom, living areas, cleared away clutter, did laundry, made meals for TJ, sorted through clothes - trying to get the house ready for company.
On Wednesday night, TJ came in after dinner and told me to come out and see a little calf. This calf had been born on one of the coldest nights. When he hit the ground it chilled him to the bone and he wasn't able to get up. He was weak and freezing. Though he was only on the ground by his mother for ten minutes, he wasn't able to milk and missed some vital nutrients in that first milk. When TJ saw that he wasn't moving, he put him in the warming box (a chest freezer sized plastic box with a heater attached). This is when I came out.
The calf was laying in the warming box not even moving. I am not always affected by the animals, mostly the cattle gross me out, but this calf looked so lifeless that my throat instinctively choked. We used our hands and rubbed the calf's legs and chest and I held the bottle while TJ opened his mouth. The most life he showed was a slight move of his leg and a few bellows. I grabbed a couple towels from the house. It seems a little silly now, but I have a pink beach towel I brought from Michigan. It is old and was never a favorite or anything like that, but it was familiar. In some way I thought that that familiar towel to me, being big and thick as well, might transfer a little more warmth to the calf. We rubbed and rubbed and rubbed. We talked to him, "C'mon calvey" "Drink some milk calvey."
I thought that maybe being placed with his mother again might produce some instinct and help him along, but nothing happened for a long time. Meanwhile, another calf under the lean-to had been snowed on and was beginning to freeze standing up. TJ put him in the warm box, though it was tricky getting the calf away from his mother. She tried to jump over the cattle fence and dented it! After TJ put her somewhere else, he knew that we needed both calves in that warmer. But what if the one trampled the other? What if it wouldn't work for either?
"TJ, this might be dumb...but could we bring this calf into the house? We have a tarp and I can put it on the floor of the mud room. We could use heating blankets and help him." He laughed.
"I don't see why not."
I was so excited, seeing this going in a million directions. All the way to the house my thoughts came too rapidly to realize they were crazy. This calf would live, I knew it would. It had to. Then it's mother wouldn't want it and I would be responsible to milk him. We would form a connection, I would develop a skill and Dad would decide not to sell him but to let him be a staple on the ranch. I would be known for my love and kindness to animals and would find a position for myself here on the ranch with the cows. Our guests would come and see our sweet little calf in the mud room, hopefully still alive and learning to stand.
TJ went out to go milk the mother in order to give the calf some of her milk, because the nutrients in it were important. I stayed inside, adjusting the heating blankets, bathing his hoofs in hot steaming water, rubbing his fur, exercising his legs, massaging his muscles, and praying. I sang the first verse of "A Mighty Fortress" because his name was Bulwark - "A bulwark never faileth."
After about an hour, when TJ came in, I was laying by his back, hoping that my body warmth might help. He had bellowed a few times and it seemed like he was moving more. I was tired. I was not as hopeful as I had been. I let TJ feed him, I adjusted the blanket, kissed his head, and we went to bed. We left the door open hoping that in following Murphy's law, he would stand up and tear about the house.
TJ went down one last time before we went to bed. When he came up I asked him, "How's calvey?"
"He's sleeping," and he held the heating blankets in his hands.
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