“We don’t have a problem-free herd yet,” I said.
Dad and I locked 534 in the catch chute in the corral. We opened up the side gate and put the calf up to its mother’s teat. It was 24 hours old and no longer had a great desire to nurse.
Dad worked 534’s teat with his hand. He squirted milk onto and into the calf’s mouth, which he held open with his other hand. The warm milk stimulated the calf and this time he latched onto the tip of the over-large teat when Dad placed it into his mouth.
“I’ll bring the 4-wheeler into the corral if you open the gate,” I said.
I was moving 672 into a side pen with her twins so that we could get 619 into the catch chute and pull her calf, which was coming breach. 672 was a protective mother; which also made her difficult to move on foot.
“How’s everything,” I said.
“Fair,” Dad said.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, 3127 had a calf yesterday afternoon. I swear it had white on its legs. Tismorning 3127 had a red calf with her.”
“You think she had twins and left one?” I said.
“Yeah, I was just looking for it. But maybe I saw the placenta and it looked white on the calf’s legs.”
“Which was it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s go look again.”
The calf with white on its legs was laying alone in the woods where it was born.
“I’ll pick it up and you can carry it on the 4-wheeler. Are you going to take it to the barn or to the corral?”
“The barn. I’ll tube it first. Then we can decide what to do with it.”
“We lost a calf in the creek last night,” Dad said.
“Shit. Which one?”
“103. She walked all around the pasture yesterday and had to have it next to the creek last night.”
“And that cold rain didn’t help. Do you want to put the twin on her?”
Our corral was full. 103 was in a pen with her foster calf. 672 was in a pen with her twins. 534 was in a pen with her calf. 619 was in the alleyway with her calf.