Delivering a baby calf from a momma cow that’s having a difficult birthing experience is just part of the job for people who raise livestock.
For us, it could turn into quite an adventure.
Back in the day, when Joanne and I headed out for one of our first traditional dates, we stopped by the pasture on McBride Road to check on an expecting heifer.
We were headed to Denny’s in Griffin, and Joanne was wearing a camel-colored cashmere coat. As soon as we pulled up to the pen, we could see two little feet, crossed up, protruding from the back of the heifer. She was in bad need of some help.
I had all the equipment we needed, so we set out to work – in the dark with just a flashlight for light.
I took some dishwashing soap and slicked up the path the calf would have to travel, and proceeded to hook one of the little calf-delivering chains to one of the calf’s legs. I told Joanne to hold on to it while I was getting the other chain ready, but to not wrap the chain around her wrist.
Following my instructions has never been Joanne’s strong suit, and the next thing I know the calf had somehow retreated back into the cow. Joanne, with the chain wrapped around her wrist, now had most of her arm inside the cow, with the cashmere coat jammed up against the rear end of the cow.
Joanne was having a fit, but she finally pulled her arm – and the calf’s leg – back into the open. I was able to fasten the other chain and soon we had a healthy boy calf standing on the ground.
We then headed on to Denny’s, slightly-stained cashmere coat and all, and had a nice meal.
A few weeks later we ran into Bub Carden at the store in Inman. Mr. Bub, in addition to being the local mechanic, was the go-to guy when it came to doctoring on cows.
He was headed to the McLucas pasture to tend to a cow having trouble delivering a calf. Joanne, now an experienced cowhand, was anxious to go along, so off we went.
When we got there, Mr. Bub confided in me that he thought he’d made a mistake bringing Joanne along. He thought we were too late to save the calf.
We quickly got to work and got the calf out, but it wasn’t breathing. He threw a rope over a limb, hooked it to the calf’s back feet and I pulled it up while he cleared the calf’s nose of fluids and tried to stimulate the calf to start breathing.
As we were doing all this, the mama cow passed the afterbirth, an event Joanne missed in the dark on the earlier delivery.
“Mr. Bub,” she shrieked. “You got her liver too!”
Bub started laughing so hard he could hardly focus on the calf, but somehow he did and the little critter coughed to life.
The mama cow then disposed of the afterbirth (she ate it), which made Joanne about gag, but all ended well.
Pictured: Abigail with one of the little calves named “Valentine.”
Many years later, when Stephanie was in elementary school, she helped me deliver a calf in our pasture at home.
She didn’t have much to say about it that afternoon, but the next day she recounted the whole process in great and accurate detail to her classmates during show and tell time.
Joanne had to go have a conference with the teacher about that one.