7/19/26
What an interesting, worrisome, hectic past few days it has been! Yes, although this will be my “Sunday Story” for the week, these events actually took place last Monday and Tuesday but felt they would make a good read for my faithful Sunday morning followers.
As I say, this all began early evening last Monday, July 13th. Heidi, who has been ready to drop her calf for what seems like ages – big as a house and a very engorged udder – finally decided to get down to business and around 5 o’clock showed all the signs of going into labour. By 6 o’clock a water bag was showing, which I could see plainly through the binoculars as I sat on the house porch observing, so I took myself down to her paddock. Heidi is now approaching her 14th birthday, and I have been present as midwife for almost all of her 11 calvings – there were a couple I missed as she slipped them out in the middle of the night. As an experienced mum never having a problem in the past, I figured this would be just the usual job for me of gently guiding baby out while Heidi did all the work. With my milk cows, I like them to deliver as quickly and effortlessly as they can.
As Heidi saw me enter the paddock and sit myself down on my usual stump to watch and wait, she came lumbering over and lay down just a short way from me, looking at me as if to say, “It’s about time you got down here!” We sat peacefully in the late sun of the day, every now and then Heidi would give a contraction that brought the water bag a bit further out. Obviously uncomfortable, she would occasionally get up and then lay down on her other side. There were either twins in her belly or one huge calf I thought!
Things were progressing well and through the membrane of the water bag I caught a glimpse of the tips of two trotters, yes, they were BIG! One minute they were there then Heid would get up and the tips of those toes promptly disappeared.
Finally, settling on her left side, she gave a good push and the water bag broke but still just the barest tips of those toes were showing. As was my wont, I went up behind Heidi to grasp the trotters and check for a nose. There was none! Heidi looked back at me then rose laboriously to her feet, turning around and coming over to sniff me and the puddle of amniotic fluid on the ground where her water bag had broken. She was trying to lick my arms and face all the while giving those gentle maternal moos a mum gives a new calf. Oh, my goodness I thought! She thinks I am her calf! Now all my milk cows lick me, but this was different!
“Heidi!” I said, “Stop it! Get over there and get on with having your baby!”. The licking continued but then as another contraction hit her, she did desist and lay down again. Once more she pushed and the very tips of the trotters showed themselves tantalizingly. I decided not to move; I did not want to distract her again! Obviously uncomfortable, she rose and once again the tips of those toes disappeared into her vast belly. Up and down, up and down she went. Now I was starting to be concerned the calf was presented wrong. Maybe its head was turned back as the feet seemed positioned in the correct manner and right direction for a normal, as opposed to a backwards, delivery. Usually, I can sit right behind Heidi with no problem, grasping the feet as she looks back at me, seeming to know I am there to help, but not this time! Her mind was convinced I was her newborn calf! If I moved an inch she would get up and follow me, all the while that gentle moo of a new mother rumbled in her chest as she tried repeatedly to lick me from head to toe!
Finally, she lay back down, and I was able to slip behind her to see if I could feel a nose when up she got and once again tried to “clean me” while milk streamed from her very full udder. This was not working at all! Deciding I needed to call and ask one of our wonderful vets if they had encountered this action before, I got up and left the paddock to head to the house. A very distraught Heidi tried to follow me, her eyes never leaving me and when I slipped behind the milkhouse to hide from her, she mooed with that desperate moo of a mum who has lost her calf. What the heck?
At the house, while I called the after-hours number for our vet, I could see Heidi walking around and around the paddock, staring at the house and mooing disconsolately. Upon reaching Dr. Jandy and explaining my dilemma, she admitted she had never heard of such a thing. We both decided I should stay “hidden” at the house and give Heidi about an hour to see if she would settle and get on with the job. Settling myself in a chair, I could see her quite clearly with the binoculars while keeping myself somewhat hidden behind the laundry room door! You see, as soon as I was in clear sight, Heidi would immediately start the agitated walking and mooing trying to call me, her calf, back to her!
Darkness began to fall, it was after 9 o’clock and still all I could see through the binoculars was the occasional tips of white toes before Heidi would stand up to stare at the house and those toes promptly slipped out of sight. I could plainly see long strands of mucous hanging from her vulva so knew at least there was still plenty of moisture in her birth canal. Okay, I thought, I will have a quick bath as I was awfully dirty from all the mowing, weeding and other work I had accomplished that day. That would give Heidi just a wee bit more time before I headed down to her paddock again, smelling much more like a human.
After my bath and clean change of clothes, I sat down in my easy chair for a bit and that is when disaster struck. I fell fast asleep! Something I usually never do! Suddenly awakening, I glanced at the clock and saw it was just past midnight. Oh, drat! I had to get down and check on Heidi feeling sure she would have popped out her baby by this time but feeling I needed to check, just in case. With it being a pitch-black night, I grabbed the little torch that sits on the kitchen counter to light my way down to her paddock.
As I entered the gate, I swept the feeble beam from the tiny torch around until I spotted eyes. Heidi was laying down and I headed towards her while talking reassuringly to let her know it was me. As she stood up, my heart dropped. There, sticking straight out behind her was a leg, one leg, a hind leg, about a foot long. Talking to her she turned her head towards me as if to say “Help!”. I went up behind her and felt the leg; it was icy cold. Oh, no, surely this meant a dead calf inside her! What had I done! Why had I not just brought her into the milk house stanchion a while ago and felt inside her? What had I been thinking?
Obviously exhausted, she stood stock still as I gently reached inside her to feel for the second leg. It was there, but the hock was flexed and there was no way baby was coming out unless I straightened out that leg to match the other one. Afraid to leave her to run up to the barn for my calving chains, I knew there was a length of bailing twine on the fence nearby. Quickly I headed for it, hoping Heidi would stay standing. She did. I made two slip nooses in the twine as I knew I would need to get a loop around each of the trotters at the fetlock joint if I was to help get this calf out. Slipping a loop over the exposed leg, I held the wee 5” torch in the same hand so I could see what I was doing as I tried to reach inside Heidi to snag that other leg. The trick was to gently repel the calf’s bum a tad so I could work the folded hind leg enough to straighten it out. Then came the major challenge once the second leg was straight of slipping the other loop around the slippery little fetlock joint. Heidi thankfully was not straining during this time which helped me out a bit. She must be exhausted! I know I was!
Finally, after what seemed an eternity and after many, many tries, I suddenly felt that second loop slip over the trotter and tighten on the fetlock joint. Still trying to hold one strand of twine and the torch in one hand, I gently started traction on the second leg and was surprised when the thing jerked in my hand! The calf was alive! As if knowing it was time, Heidi began to push. Keeping a downward pull, I felt the calf move a bit towards me as the torch light swung wildly about. I had the twine wrapped around my hands and as Heidi swung her rear end from side to side it dawned on me this was not the safest of situations to be in! If for some reason she took off, I would be hauled along behind her! The thought almost made me laugh out loud for some reason.
Then, the wonderful thing happened, with a mighty push and me pulling gently but steadily like mad in a downward direction, the baby slipped out and landed on the ground. Heidi turned around and began her administrations, but we were not out of the woods yet! There was now no sign of life in the calf. I felt for a heartbeat and there was none. No breathing, and no response when I gently touched the calf’s eyeball. Drat! Thumping the calf’s chest as hard as I could I began CPR. Then, checking again under the foreleg, I felt it, the fluttering of the heart. Sticking my fingers up the calf’s nose it snorted and took a huge breath. We were not in the clear but at least she was alive, for yes, she was a big heifer!
As I worked to clear the airway, Heidi began her vigorous cleaning of the calf, something that would do wonders to stimulate her baby. Then, with a big snort, the calf shook its head. I knew then that she would be okay. Sitting back and watching for a bit, marveling at the tenacity of the calf, the wonder of birth, I was content. Sore, tired and dirty, but yes, content. It was almost one o’clock in the morning. I was ready for bed, feeling comfortable that all would be well until the morning when I would head down to check on mum and baby at dawn. I knew we may not be entirely out of the woods and indeed we were not.
Heading down to the paddock bright and early, Heidi seemed to be resting comfortably beside her spotlessly clean baby curled up near her. Watching Heidi rise ponderously to her feet, I thought she looked a bit wobbly, but then again, she had had a hard delivery. Rousing the calf, my heart dropped as I saw its hind legs had problems. Instead of the hocks flexing as they should, they were hyperextended forwards! Had I caused this while pulling the calf out? What was of most importance right now was making sure the calf got a bellyful of colostrum. Jamming my knee under its belly, I held it up while guiding its mouth to one of Heidi’s dripping teats. Thankfully it had a great suckling reflex and latched on with gusto. We would deal with those hind legs later on; I would call Dr. Jandy and get her advice on what to do about them.
What amazing vets we have here in Grant County! When I spoke with her on the phone and relayed the events of the night, Dr. Jandy congratulated me on the successful birth, noting that sort of delivery was not the easiest to accomplish at the best of times and reassured me the calves hocks would most likely sort themselves out. However, this ordeal was not yet over.
A short while later, deciding to head to the milk cow paddock and move Heidi and her calf to a smaller pen where I could keep an easy eye on them, I saw with dread that unmistakable attitude Heidi was presenting… head stretched out, panting, slightly bloated, ears cold to the touch, eyes staring straight ahead… she had milk fever! Now in all my 36 years of owning milk cows, I can honestly say I have only had milk fever in any of my girls twice before – this would make time number three. Hurrying to the house I grabbed my fluid infusion kit and bottle of CMPK, a calcium magnesium supplement I always try to keep on hand just in case. Heidi did not even flinch when I stuck the big needle into her peritoneal space and began the infusion – I was hesitant about giving it via her jugular vein as running this type of fluid in too fast can cause cardiac arrest.
Once the bottle was in, I hurried back to the house to call Dr. Jandy. She agreed it was milk fever, but I needed to give Heidi another bottle of the CMPK, which I did not have on hand! So, I jumped in the truck and took off for the vet’s office in Mount Vernon, almost an hour’s drive away. Returning home, I infused another bottle under Heidi’s skin then milked some colostrum from her into a nursing bottle while she lay there unaware of me or her calf who by this time was hungry and trying to get to its feet. Making sure the calf drank more of the precious colostrum, I now just had to wait and let the medication work with fingers and toes crossed.
The end of this long story? Heidi finally turned the corner and after gulping down a bucketful of molasses water, as she saw me hoist the calf into the hay trailer – she was too heavy for me to carry as far as I had to go – Heidi struggled to her feet and followed me, still a bit wobbly, to the smaller pen where she immediately buried her nose in the hay feeder and started munching contentedly.
On Wednesday morning it warmed my heart to see Heidi rise effortlessly to her feet and stretch. Her baby rose up too after a gentle prodding and tottered over to mum where she ducked her head under Heidi’s udder and started suckling away. I feel as if I can relax now. How thankful I am for that best friend of farmers… bailing twine.
p.s. As of yesterday, the heifer calf’s hind legs are flexed just as they should be and all is well with mum and baby! A good outcome to a trying week!
