It's A Boy

Of all my cows, it had been clear for many weeks that Amy, because of her full udder, would be the first to calve. But one day I walked out into the field and found a different cow, Rosella, cleaning off her newborn:

 Rocket, being young and curious, was right in the middle of everything - but Rosella didn't seem to mind. All her focus was on cleaning off her new baby:

 I'd joked that with a red mother and a white father, I might get pink calves. To my surprise, it looked green. Yes, green. The green turned out to be birth fluids, and the baby began looking grayish white as it got cleaner:

 Rosella didn't seem to mind my presence and I was careful not to be intrusive:

 Yes, the baby had its tongue out for quite awhile. Once clean, it stood up and wobbled as it tried to walk and maybe even find a teat:

 Hi, Mommy. I will follow you if you'll feed me. Of course the calf must find the teats on its own, and if they are healthy like this one, their instincts tell them where to find the milk:

 Ah, there's the feeding station!

 The new calf, besides being white, was much bigger than I was used to. Red Polls are known for small calves but this calf's father was half Angus and half Charolais. This view from behind informed me that we had a bull calf, and I named him Lucky:

 I walked back out to the field a short time later and found the baby asleep in the ditch and Rosella eating the afterbirth as it emerged. It looks disgusting to us, but such behaviors have evolved for a useful purpose:

 Being almost white, the multitude of flies were plainly visible but there was nothing I could do about it. It's just part of being bovine:

 A couple of hours later, the little one was up on his feet and traveling with the herd. I'd estimate that he was born the size of a pure Red Poll calf at two weeks old:

 The next morning, I found Lucky lying down by a fence corner. Rosella was watching him closely, so I turned off the electric fence and went to the outside of it, where I reached in between the wires and snapped an ear tag on him. He never even flinched. Lucky is now number 11:

Rocket's Baby Pictures

Rocket was a hearty eater (well, milk drinker) from his first morning and perhaps the fastest growing calf I've ever seen. He was eating hay at two weeks old. Luckily, his mama produces a lot of milk and is an excellent mother:

He spent a lot of time sleeping his first week, and Scarlett, his mom, made sure he always had a bed of hay to rest on:

I began carrying a bowl of grain out to him, but he preferred to try and eat Jasmine's bowl. At those times when he figured out the correct procedure, though, he enjoyed eating some grain:

 He was a cutie, right from the beginning:

 He soon learned to sneak into the barn and eat the indoor hay. Sometimes Remy allowed him to stay there, and sometimes Remy chased him back outside:

At two weeks, I lured Scarlett into the barn with grain, then closed the door on her to keep her inside. The neighbors came over and helped me capture Rocket, then tattoo his ears and give him an ear tag. It's wonderful to have such helpful, friendly neighbors:

The next morning, he began to take an interest in grain, but none of the big cows (not even Scarlett) let him have any:

 I tried to bring him out his own bowl, but given the recent tattooing incident, he didn't trust me. Look at that chest he was already growing!:

He was alert and smart enough not to get caught again for another tattoo. He also began running in big circles through the snow, just for fun:

 I checked on him often and learned not to panic if at first I didn't see him, for he was likely to be sleeping behind one of his gigantic aunties:

 Little Rocket is growing rapidly and showing much promise. I am pleased:

Homegrown Tattooing And Tagging

One of the things which I've found most difficult is tattooing and tagging the ears of the calves. The tattooing is required for registering them as purebred Red Polls and the ear tag is necessary for me (and future owners) to tell them apart. When Rosella was born two years ago, I walked out into the field and tattooed her ears before she was old enough to object. Alas, that has never worked since, either because I couldn't find where the mom had hidden her calf or because the mom wouldn't leave them alone. This year, Rosella's first baby, Tabitha, was three weeks old before I got her locked in the barn and called the neighbors to come over and give me a hand. This is what Tabitha looked like before her tattoo:

Tabitha was a bucking bronco of a calf and I only was able to slip a rope around her neck and tie it to a steel post. She soon dislodged the post so I moved her to another post:

She continued to fight at the new post so I tried to comfort her. But she wanted no part of it and resisted with everything she had. When the neighbors came over, it took three of us to wrestle her onto the ground and hold her steady:

I applied green tattoo ink to the insides of her ears and then squeezed the tattoo pliers shut, poking holes into the skin with ink in them. I then added a red plastic tag to her right ear and sent her out to Rosella, her mother. She immediately wanted to nurse. There was ink around her eyes, making her look a bit like an alien panda:

Rosella nuzzled her, winding up with green ink on her nose, but the job was done - my own private little rodeo:

I wanted to find an easier way for the next calf, so when Maggie was born, I'd already made a "calf catcher" by lining the hay bale feeder with plastic snow fence and hanging it from the tractor's bale spear. I was ready to go:

When Maggie was one day old, I drove the tractor out to where the cattle were lounging and dropped the catcher over her. I'd brought along a ladder to get me in and out of the ring, so I wrestled little Maggie to the ground by myself and tattooed her ears, adding an ear tag when I was finished. Her mom, Scarlett, couldn't get in and Maggie couldn't get out. It worked quite well. When done, I released her and she immediately ran to Scarlett to nurse. That's why there's milk foam in her mouth:

The poor little thing was a bit traumatized, but I think it was less so at one day old than at three weeks:

Red Polls are great mothers and take good care of their babies. They also have an abundance of milk, which surely helps:

Poor little Maggie was covered with green for a week or so but recovered well:

As the excess green slowly faded, she began to look better and better. She had again just finished nursing when I took this picture, and there was milk foam in her mouth and splattered on her side. Now all the wrestling and rodeo is over, the calves are marked in the required manner and they are free to live a happy life with their mother and their herd:

An Update On The Red Poll Girls

A lot has been happening with the Red Poll girls. They spent much time this spring in the north field:

And then Gracie had her new baby, Gladys:

Annie and Gladys became best friends, so much so that I wondered if both were nursing from one cow. They weren't, but you can imagine how they adored each other:

It took about a week, but I was finally able to coax all the cows, including Gracie and Gladys, back across the road to the south field:

Gladys and Annie continued to be best friends, and even slept next to each other:

Gracie was very proud and protective of her beautiful little calf, Gladys:

I finally managed to get Annie locked inside the barn without her mom and the neighbor came over to give me a hand. We wrestled her into the squeeze chute, tied a rope halter on her and tattooed her ears. Then I quickly popped an ear tag on her right ear. She put up a mighty resistance and my neighbor was impressed with her strength and muscularity. Afterwards, Annie quickly returned to her life of comfort and calm. Here she is, showing her new ear tag and the insides of both ears smeared with green tattoo ink, alongside her mom, Violet:

Gladys grew quickly and learned to run and leap like a deer:

The cattle have some trees in the south field, under which they can find cool shade on a hot day. Annie and Gladys, as usual, slept side by side:

I plan to sell both calves. I hope I can find them a home together, for they sure are best friends:

I expected Annie to no longer trust me after the tattoo and ear tag wrestling match, but she seemed none the worse and continued to come inside the barn whenever I gave the big girls grain. She sniffs the grain and watches it, but hasn't eaten any yet:

I've taken to calling the cows in for grain twice a day, as I did during the coldest winter months. They don't really need the grain, but all are either lactating or pregnant, so I figure a little extra nutrition is a good idea - and also, the grain and handling keeps them tame and friendly: