The Birth Story

On Thursday afternoon, I knew Daisy was going to have her baby that night or first thing the next morning. Delicious grass is growing all over the place and usually the cows wander the property, grazing all day long. But on Thursday afternoon, Daisy walked herself down to the corrals and I found her standing in the grassless sheltered section where she had birthed Frisco, looking into the middle distance, in a zone. Frisco and another heifer were down there, too – they follow Daisy wherever she goes – nosing around the empty hay bunk. They wanted to eat; Daisy was not interested in food.

Frisco also obediently follows the red-handled horse brush – he loves to be brushed – and I used this to lure him and the heifer out of the corrals. I locked Daisy in, with a huge pile of hay to eat and straw to nest in, and Frisco, for the first time, had to navigate the wide world on his own (with his heifer friend). He’s been such a mama’s boy his entire life, I wasn’t sure how he would react to the separation, but he’s did a fine job. Became a man, even, as much as a steer can. He and Daisy spent three days apart and Frisco was patient and generous, not at all needy or lonely or whiny. And even now, he spends more time with the heifer and the goose instead of clinging to Daisy. He adores his little sis but seems to understand the current order of things.

I left Daisy by herself, checked on her that evening, and at that point I really believed her baby would be born just after sunrise on Friday morning. When I woke at dawn, I had my usual morning rituals with Charlie and Chloe and the cats and coffee and did a bit of work. I was in no rush to get to the corrals, even though I knew Daisy was having her baby. Daisy prefers to do these things on her own – I could sense that last year, with Frisco’s birth, but bugged her anyway – and this year I decided to let her have the birth the way she wanted it, in peace, like a cow, without me.

And then, one moment, everything shifted gears. I pulled on jeans and boots and was like, “It’s time to go down there!” Right now! And I kind of speed-walked down to the corrals, so curious about what I might find. From afar, I could see Daisy, standing, and then some movement around her legs. At first, I couldn’t tell if it was a barn cat, but with a few more strides down the trail I could see the staccato movements of gangly calf legs. Daisy’s calf was standing but still completely wet – Daisy hadn’t, at that point, cleaned off more than the calf’s face – which means the birth occurred literally less than five minutes before I got down there.

Daisy was attentive to the calf and happy to see me, and soon Ricardo showed up, along with a barn cat.

We all hung out for a timeless spell – an hour? two hours? Daisy birthed her placenta and ate it up, and the curious calf discovered that those things are very slippery.

And this time, when the calf was ready to find a teat, Daisy stood patiently and let her suckle without any drama. I milked Daisy throughout the day, just sitting beside her in the corral as she licked her calf and munched on hay. Frisco came by to say hi, curious and doting, as always, and then wandered off again with his new heifer friend. I kept Daisy and her calf together in the corrals for a few days, and today, a beautiful sunny day, I opened all the gates to let them roam the place. And the bovine family met up (sans Sir Baby who is off doing bull duties) and spent the day grazing together. Frisco front and center, Frisco’s heifer friend to the left at the edge of the frame, Ricardo, the white form just above Frisco, and Daisy nursing her calf:

Now, in regards to her name. That first day, the day of the birth, I could feel the calf’s name in my mouth. I could feel it, but couldn’t figure out what it was. But MJ knew. So many great names were left in the comment section of the “Redhead” post, and one was the name for this particular calf. When I read the name “Fiona,” it fit like a puzzle with what I was feeling in my mouth. And I went down to the corrals and softly called out ‘Fiona,’ and this sweet, gorgeous calf got up from resting in the sun and walked over to me.

Uncle Frisco

from the archives ~

• Baby Frisco and Ricardo •
photo taken May 2010
~ now, Frisco is as tall as Daisy, and his horns are like handlebars ~

Frisco got pneumonia :(

Frisco has pneumonia. But he’s on the upswing now, which is why I’m able to finally write this post! The past week has been rough, culminating in one night of utter despair as I lay next to him in the straw in the dark with my arms around him, thinking it might be the last time….

Bovine pneumonia is not uncommon ~ calves are susceptible when they are weaned and often survive it, though it can kill. Frisco has not been weaned and is older than the usual age for pneumonia risk, so it was a shock that he became so ill. In fact, at the beginning, when I noticed he was “off,” I thought he was depressed.

Last week, we weaned Mike’s calves, and to do this, we moved the homestead cattle (Sir Baby, TR, 16 and her little calf, all the characters you’ve seen on this site) over to a different pasture in order to use the corrals for weaning. The calves being weaned have an easier transition when their mothers are right next to them, just on the other side of the corral fences. The calves can see, smell, and moo to their mothers and Mike and I have found this set up to be far less traumatic than whisking them away from their mothers.

So, in order to do this, we moved the homestead bunch to a pasture across the road, leaving only Daisy and Frisco in the corrals with the group of calves, so that I could continue to milk Daisy. We also thought that Daisy would act as a den mother for the calves and Frisco, so incredibly friendly and carefree, would be a calm and happy presence. Plus, he’s not weaned from Daisy and therefore stays with her.

Weaning Mike’s calves went perfectly smoothly but I noticed, a few days in, that Frisco was not his usual happy self. He was despondent, and kept gazing over to the pasture where his friends had been moved. I thought he was depressed! The next day, I noticed he was no longer nursing Daisy. Something was definitely amiss.

By that time, the calves were weaned and we had trailed the cows to their fall pasture, and so Mike and I immediately moved Frisco’s crew back into the corrals, but Frisco didn’t even get up to meet them. This was so completely out of character for Frisco that it was undeniable he had taken ill.

Diagnosing an animal is not always easy because they can’t talk to you in words. Sometimes it’s a matter of ruling out options based on physical signs ~ he didn’t have diarrhea, he had a bit of snot, he could walk fine but he preferred not to get up. He had lost weight and wasn’t drinking from Daisy. He kept his head on the ground when he was lying down. Mike and I suspected pneumonia based on these signs. Though none of Mike’s calves came down with colds or pneumonia, it was the first time Frisco had been exposed to the younger bovine set ~ he has only been around adult cattle for his entire life, with the exception of 16’s little baby. That, combined with a sudden shift to cold and wet weather just knocked him down.

At that point, I called the vet and described everything to him, and he also thought it was pneumonia; apparently dairy cattle aren’t quite as hardy as the angus are, either. The vet told me the type and amount of antibiotics and cow aspirin to give to Frisco, and to call with a status report the next day. I gave Frisco the medicine that afternoon (via shots) and made a bed of fresh straw for him in the sheltered part of the corrals where I milk Daisy.

That night was bad, but the next morning, Daisy’s udder was empty ~ no milk for me but YAY!! It was the first time he had nursed in days. Frisco was standing at the feed bunk beside her eating hay as well, and when he rested throughout the day, his head was up rather than down on the ground as it had been before. I will give him another dose of antibiotics today and am still keeping a close eye on him, but I do believe he’s on the road to recovery!

Again, thanks for all your sweet healing wishes to the both of us :)

Most Ridiculous. {{updated!}}

Daisy nursing Frisco.

Daisy nursing Frisco and TR.

At the same time.

Do you see the serene contentment in her face?

updated: OK, to address questions!
Frisco was born in December so he is almost ten months old. He most certainly could be weaned at this point and be just fine. TR is 1.5 years old, the same age as Sir Baby. He was weaned at about nine months, and spent the winter and spring with Sir Baby, eating hay like grown-up cattle. But when Sir Baby left to go earn his keep, TR and Frisco became best buds. And in late June, I saw that TR had taken Frisco’s example and was sucking Daisy. And Daisy was just fine with that. She is the sweetest.

They actually make my job easier ~ Daisy’s production has tapered off since Frisco’s birth but I’d estimate she’s still producing about 6 gallons a day. I milk one gallon in the morning and leave the rest for the boys to take care of.

Sir Baby has no interest in drinking from Daisy, though she still treats him like he’s her kiddo, giving him baths with her tongue, which he loves.

In February, I will separate TR and Frisco from Daisy. They will spend their time in a separate pasture with Sir Baby, Sunshine, and Houdini, while Daisy will be the den mother at the corrals for all the first-calf heifers who will be calving in March. I’ll stop milking at that time, too; this will give Daisy the opportunity to “dry off” for two months before her new calf is born. This allows her body to focus solely on her unborn baby and, as the time of birth nears, begin production of the essential colostrum.