It’s calving time again here on the ever so windy plains of Texas.
While the rest of the world is bombarded with severe weather, we remain rainless. And windy. And oh-so-very dirty. Today was field day at my school and when we left there, after battling wind gusts of up to 50 mph, and no measurable rainfall since last November, we were all simply a walking layer of sunscreen encrusted with dirt. Seriously, you could have carved your initials in my face.
Besides all that, it’s calving season here on the ever-so-windy plains of Texas.
My husband spends his days checking heifers. Now remember my good students, that heifers are very young, first time mothers. They are the unwed teenagers of the bovine population. They need to be monitored closely for birthing distress and to ensure they are going to raise their newborn babes and not spend their days drinking ale with their friends and getting new tattoos.
J-Dub has 20 heifers to watch. Out of those 20, 12 have calved and the rest are growing closer every day. So he makes his rounds studying their backsides for floppy and swollen you-know-whats and big, full utters (a.k.a. bags). But the tell-tale sign that a heifer is about to calve is a raised tail with a crook in it.
I accompanied him the other day. The cows who remain pregnant gather around the truck looking for a handout. The heifers who have calved usually are hidden out with their babies somewhere, or they leave the babies hid out to come get a handout.
The second cardinal rule of cowboying aside from ALWAYS CLOSE THE GATES is ALWAYS COUNT THE COWS.
After a quick head count, it was discovered that a heifer was missing.
She was quickly found amidst the Skunk Brush,
with a new, wet baby by her side.
A new, wet baby with a rumbly tummy.
7 more babies to go.