I hated to post so soon after my introductory blog, but I have had these thoughts rattling around in my head since Valentine's Day. My day began very eventfully, very early in the morning...
You might not recall, but mid February this year was extremely cold and bitter. Also, out here in the country, we had a solid sheet of ice covering everything for almost the entire month. And I, like most beef producers in this area, found myself in the middle of calving season.
Most of the time, a mature cow can give birth to her calf with little if any human intervention. After all, although some producers may not believe it, animals have been surviving without human intervention forever. During extremely cold weather, however, a cow cannot warm her calf in time to keep it alive. This, combined with the fact that my cows weren't mature cows, but first timers, meant that I was out checking on the mothers to be every two hours. Two hours is about the time it takes for a cow to go from active labor to birth, so whether the cow is having trouble birthing the calf on her own, or if the calf is born and needs to be warmed and coddled a bit, I had about a two hour window within which I could be inside, warming up, resting, doing whatever.
On Valentine's Day, I checked my heifers at 1A.M., and it was 6 degrees with a strong north wind. Needless to say, a newborn calf won't survive very long in those conditions. On this particular trip out, I found a newborn calf, which was already frozen to the ground. I literally peeled the new calf from the icy ground, and, with its mother in pursuit, carried the calf out of the lot and into a barn on the farm which is finished with living quarters and a wood burning stove. I sat with the baby calf, coaxed its first meal of colostrum, a vitamin rich milk, into it, and waited for it to warm up. Eventually, the new calf was able to eat on its own, and even got up on its feet and was bawling for mom. My spirits were lifted, knowing that I'd leapt a big first hurdle, saving the calf from the cold. However, not all of my troubles were over. Anytime you take a new calf away from its mother, you run two big risks, one that the calf may not ever latch onto its mom once you reunite them, and the other that the cow may not accept the calf. Luckily, when I marched the new calf back out into the cold, at around 8AM, and united her with her mother, they immediately bonded.
As I went back inside the house to shower and revive myself with some warm coffee, I was thinking about how many beef producers were going through the same struggles as I was, fighting the cold and ice to save one calf at a time. For me it was hard enough, even with my small herd of 25 heifers. But some of my friends and relative calved out over 200 cows this winter. Not all stories are successes, but we have to work hard whether the calf ends up living or not. In the end, we sell the calves that survive at some point, either through traditional channels where it will end up in a crowded feed lot, or, in my case, directly to the consumer. Either way, as cow-calf producers, we all spend some time as mid-wife, and this winter, that role was extremely hard. But, it is what we do. We don't get paid more because we had to work 3rd shift to keep the calf alive, freezing our hands and feet in the process. It is just what we do, in most cases because we don't want to do anything else.
So, as you cut into your next steak, or bite into that hamburger tomorrow, take just a moment to remember, food isn't fast, and food isn't easy. Someone might have spent a Valentine's night out in the cold so you could enjoy wholesome, cheap, food this summer. Bon appetit.