Naught Calving

I was going to write about night calving, but so far, it's been naught calving...we've got nothin'.

Well, that's not true.

We have four heifers who are about to explode with calves, and four more hanging out, seriously considering the option.  But they really have no motivation to calve, because the four dames who are the closest get to bunk in the warm barn every night.  And you can bet they know the way in! After they calve, however, they have to sleep outside on a hill WITH a calf they don't know what to do with. The moo-ternity ward is a much better situation and I do believe they're just clenched up, holding on as long as they possibly can.  Two squares a day, cozy sleeping quarters....nice!

I took my turn at the night calving last night, terrified that there'd be three heifers calve on my shift, and with complications at that.

Night calving is inconvenient and chilly.  It feels like an insult, to have to get up every three hours, stuff yourself into coveralls and muckboots, tromp through the corral, check each cow's behavior and their rear ends for signs of a calf coming.  In fairness, the cows are not impressed with this little ritual, either.  You can almost hear them groaning, "Here she comes, AGAIN..."  So we roll our eyes at each other, I look at each number and each tail region, on the four in the barn and the four in the corral, and I tromp back to the shop. 

Last night was beautiful...warm, no wind, all the stars out.  By the time I headed back to the shop, I was wide awake and enjoyed the night.  Everything else was asleep, except me and the cows.

And the shop cats.
We have two black and white shop cats that have taken it over, and even though they're SUPPOSED to be catching mice, they pretty much just harass anyone who happens to cross the threshold and rough 'em up for cheap cat food.  They really are cute, but when you're trying to sleep in the camper and they're squalling and leaping on it, rocking it to get you to come out, they're less charming.

We have an old fifth wheel camper pulled into the shop, The Redneck Guesthouse, for the night calvers to sit in and read, toss and turn in a sleeping bag for 2 1/2 hours, falling asleep 30 minutes before the alarm goes off for the next check.  There are snacks, water, and...this is big....electricity for lights to read by. 

The cats resent the camper, mightily, and actually are able to rock it by jumping on the step and (I think) the roof.  It's sport and I'm not going to give them the satisfaction of having roused me out of the joint, so I stay in there and mutter and pull the sleeping bag over my head. 

No calves. 
And you'd think it would feel like you'd wasted the night, but I was relieved. (As was my father-in-law, I'm sure.)  I don't mind doing it.  I like the cows and the quiet night, I like being able to read for three hours, uninterrupted, if I want.  I like (not) sleeping in the camper...it reminds me of camping with my Grandpa and Grandma Mosby...it smells the same. 

I hope the next post is FIRST CALF of 2011!!!

*Addendum: Tonight I was telling Maggie about checking the heifers and she asked, "Did they have pupae?"  Um...no.  They did not.  First grade science is a little blurry on that, I guess....