My time in Manitoba was quickly coming to an end. I wanted to spend some time working with the animals again before I left and the opportunity afforded itself on my eighth day on the farm. Ray, once again my information highway, said the new calves needed to have ear tags. Interested I asked if I could tag along. (sorry) Ear tags help the farmers identify the gender of the calves as well as track its parentage. If you have a bumper crop of babies each looking much like the next, you will need to have some way to tell which calf belongs to which mother. The mothers, I was told, instinctively will be protective of their offspring. The objective is to perform this task with the least amount of stress to both parties. A calf cage or crate was to be taken out to the field. This will separate the baby from it’s mother temporarily during the procedure while allowing the mother to remain close by and get less agitated. The cow may get testy during this time I was warned, so I was not to get too close to her hind quarters or I might get kicked. Ray explained it is important the tagging be done properly or you risk infection, the tag could get ripped out, or bacteria could easily travel from one small creature to the next. Got it.
I got dressed in my knee boots this time before being prompted to. Mucking about in the cow pastures you are likely to step in a lot of, well, a lot of. Meeting the men by the barn as requested, the cage was already hitched to the back of the truck. Dobbin, the dapple gray was saddled and loosely tied to the gate. Bob J. and were to ride out in the truck with Ray following on Dobbin in case they needed to round up any strays. Coming to the first field we caravaned through the gate stopping just at the perimeter of the grazing herd. Bob J. said there should be five calves in this pasture, though we only counted four. Most likely the missing calf and mother were hidden beyond the tree line so we would have to look the stragglers once the other four had been tagged. Helping them unload the contents of the bed of the truck I noticed an ominous looking tool reminding me of the eyelet setter I had at home in my sewing kit only much larger. This was used as a “punch” if you will that helps set the tag. Asking if it hurt, my answer was no. As a disclaimer, no calf has ever stepped up to the mike to confirm this to be true so I’m just going to have to take the farmer’s word for it. Ray said it was similar to ear piercing in humans. Let me just insert here, had I seen that tool headed for my ear lobe I would have continued to wear clip on earrings. I’m just sayin.
I got my ears pierced in my early twenties. My mother worked for a radiologist at the time we called Dr. Pat. Dr. Pat had mentioned he had pierced his daughter’s ears. Mother, knowing I was planning on having mine done at the mall asked if he would consider doing mine as well. Even at that age with two toddlers in tow my mother still worried I would get an infection and die. Losing my dad when he was twenty-five had a profound impact on her and by God she wasn’t going to lose me. Being an only child with an overly protective widowed mother can be both a blessing and curse. You get all the love and you get ALL THE LOVE. Sigh. My mother was a bit of a helicopter parent before the phrase was ever coined. I would happily have just gone to the jewelry store at the mall. To relieve her mind, I showed up at radiology for the appointment and was guided into an exam room for the procedure. Dr. Pat had a reputation for being a bit of a practical joker so he arrived fully gowned with gloves and mask on. On a tray he carried an enormous syringe. Fortunately they caught me before I fled out the door and explained it was a joke. While there he told me the story of his visit to Tijuana over the summer with several of his colleagues. They were on a sort of busman’s holiday down in the Baja Peninsula doing some pro bono work in a small clinic. After a rigorous couple of days with no A/C they decided to stop at a bar in Tijuana on the way home and enjoy a couple of cool ones. As the story went they washed the cervaza down with Tequila shots and everyone got el borracho (plastered). One of the locals in the bar, spotting an easy mark in the inebriated Dr. Pat sold him an enormous sow which they somehow loaded in the back of his station wagon and brought home to the wife. Story was she was less than elated to see both him and the pig. After some heated discussion and most likely in exchange for an expensive shopping trip for the wife the pig was allowed to stay. Fortunately, they lived in a lovely ranch style home in an exclusive area mostly dedicated to horse owners so it was zoned for livestock. When the tony ladies in the area were out walking their pedigree pooches, Dr. Pat would slip the custom made rhinestone collar on Gordita (always thought that was kind of a rude name) and walk her around the neighborhood as well. At one point I believe the neighbors actually got up a petition to have this behavior stopped as unseemly but apparently it isn’t illegal to walk swine in public. He and his wife got a divorce not long after that, not surprisingly as you might imagine. Last I heard he got custody of the pig.
One by one we rounded up the calves and their mothers. Let me preface by saying the calves do not just walk into the crate provided for them. It’s like putting Boo, the Queen of Cats, in her carrier to go to the vets. You don’t just say, “Boo please get in” and the cat aquiesses. Oh no. You hide the cage and sneak up on her while she’s sleeping. You gently carry her towards the open door of the crate being sure she does not actually see the crate or a hospital visit (for you not her) is in the offing. Once she realizes what you are up to you push and she resists, repeat for a half an hour until she’s finally inside. I was handed a bottle of adequate size to satisfy Baby Huey and told once the calf was secured to feed him or her while the procedure was being performed. Believe it or not I asked what was in the bottle. Even for a blonde that was a fairly dumb question. Milk, yes, you win the teddy bear. Ray slipped a rope around mama’s neck who wasn’t looking happy, while Bob J. rounded up the little one and after a bit of maneuvering got it in the crate and the head stabilized. My part of the program was easy because I had the goods. The little one happily sucked on the bottle while Bob J. did what was needed to be done with not a lot of fanfare thankfully. I cannot stand to see any animal hurt including human animals.
For a brief time in my late twenties I was a dental assistant. Believe it or not I graduated top of my class (Particularly after the what’s in the bottle question. I know!). After graduating, I was placed in an orthodontist’s office as a chairside assistant. Working in a school environment was vastly different than working in the field itself. For one thing our “patient” in school was a dummy (no offense meant). He was an actual dummy we called Fred. Fred was life sized with a full set of perfect teeth and sat obediently in the chair. Never once did he bite me, scream, cry or bleed all over his bib. This, when working with actual live patients, was definitely not the case. Our patients were largely children as braces were the mainstay of our office. Doing xray’s on small mouths should come with hazard pay. I cannot count how many times I was bitten, or had to nearly go to the mat with a small patient to get a set of full mouth xrays completed. The dentist, though delighted with my two handed dentistry techniques was less than thrilled with the “faces” I was involuntarily making while he was working on patients. It seemed they were instilling fear rather than confidence in the person sitting in the chair. After a year I determined dental assisting was not the life path for me but that is another blog.
After all four of the babies were tagged and released to their waiting mamas Ray was dispatched on horseback to round up the missing pair. When he returned Bob J. was educating me on the disposition of cows. Cows, like most species, each have their own personalities. For the most part he said they were not aggressive, however, that is not always the case and you should always be mindful around large animals and be respectful. Bulls were another matter entirely. For those of you who don’t know the answer to another dumb question, cows are female and bulls are male. Bulls can be very aggressive particularly around other bulls and especially when a cow is in heat. Thankfully there were no bulls on the property. How the calves came to be we didn’t get into but perhaps that falls under TMI.
After accounting for and tagging all the calves in two of the four pastoral areas, we broke for lunch. Chris outdid herself that day piling slices of her wonderful homemade bread with cured ham and lacy Swiss cheese. A large bowl of pasta salad was served family style in the middle of the table loaded with cherry tomatoes and spinach as well as a plate of sliced tomato, avocado, cucumber, and dill pickles. For dessert rhubard crisp with vanilla ice cream. Nap please. No nap was on the schedule so we dragged ourselves back out to the field and spent the rest of the day finishing the job we started. The cows were lovely all in all and not a one gave me as much as a dirty look.
Over dinner we discussed what I wanted to do with my last official day on the farm the following day before boarding a plane the day after that for California. It was decided the girls and I would go on a road trip with Bob J. at the wheel giving me an opportunity to see some of the surrounding countryside and allow Chris a much needed day of R&R. My muscles were reacting to a hard day’s work as I blessedly sank into a tub of hot water before heading to bed. A bit of melancholy had begun to sneak into my being that night. One more day and then back to the reality of job, home, family and day to day life. Ah well, vacation or relocation doesn’t usually last forever.
Your post was a great way to start my day. I had to chuckle as it brought back memories of a ranch experience that I’ve chosen not to have again!
It was fun and interesting because I saw an end to it. Might have looked different to me if it was an everyday experience. Thanks for reading and commenting!! Have a great day.