A Successful Birth

I arrived at the house tired and sore from a day sitting in an ergonomically incorrect chair in my office to find...no one home.  Tom and Carol had left with Katie and Josh for a mini-vacation to exotic Canada (What? Canada's not on your destination list for Spring Break?!), and Jeff was M.I.A.  I had spoken to Jeff over the phone several hours prior and knew at that time he had been at our house.  After a few attempts to reach him there had gone unanswered, I did what any good young ranch wife eager to do the right thing  during calving would do.  I clipped on my overshoes and took a walk through the cows.

Enough walk-throughs with Tom and Jeff patiently repeating the same answers to my questions about what to look for gave me the confidence that I could spot the signs of a cow in labor. I began with a glance through the pen of late-calvers, just to be sure no one had calved super early.  They hadn't. 

Then I moved into the heifer pen.  I first noticed a cow lying down on her own, with her water hanging out.  She was definitely beginning to calve.  Then I noticed a very young calf standing near a cow I presumed to be his mama, still-wet, but seemingly fine.  This calf was probably only an hour old or two at most.  Definitely some action in here. I had learned from the guys that sometimes a cow won't calf if a person is around, so I continued my walk through the rest of the cows, checking for newborns or signs of imminent calving.  I took my time, wanting to give the cow in the heifer pen that was definitely calving, V-90, a chance to make some progress.

After seeing no tail-kinks or emerging feet in the main pen, I walked back around toward the heifer pen.  By this time, I heard loud bellowing from the heifer pen and quickly identified V-90 as the source.  She now had a foot and the tip of the nose emerging.  I remained outside the pen and watched her work, running through my mind what I would do if she stopped making progress.  I had no idea where the straps were and I was not confident I could get her into the calving barn anyway.  I didn't think it would have been a good idea to just walk up behind her and start pulling on the calf, for fear of being kicked, but if it came to that, I had decided I would approach and try to guage her reaction. 

While my internal monologue transpired, she continued to push... and then stopped.  Oh damn.  Some time went by that felt much longer than what I'm sure it actually was. It looked like she should have been nearly done, but the calf was still encased within placenta and showed no signs of breathing on his own.  I began to walk toward the cow, again, running through my mind what I should do to ensure the calf survived.  I could grab a piece of straw and tickle the calf's nostril, hoping he would sneeze... I could use my hand to clean off his face... I could... I could... what? 

As I approached, she stood up, which was my desired outcome. The calf remained on the ground and the amniotic sack broke. The calf inhaled...then exhaled, then again, inhaled and exhaled, more quickly the second time. Mama turned around and immediately began cleaning him.  A successful birth.