Our 2016 fall calving season is in the books! We have 68 new calves, including a set of twins. After a busy week of working and hauling in November, everyone is set until next spring. 60 cow/calf pairs and two bulls went south for the winter—45 minutes south to a ranch where they will receive sumptuous catered meals of silage and hay. The calves will chow down on a grain mixture I call “calf granola.”
 
For details and pictures showing how we work and haul, check out my previous blog posts: “Bon Voyage Until Next Spring” from Nov. 29, 2013 and “The Main Event: Cattle Working and Hauling” from Nov. 24, 2015.
 
Our winter residents include:

• Eleven replacement heifers (see below);
• Chubby and her twins, Heckle and Jeckle (“Our Mama was a Bargain Basement Cow” posted Sept. 17, 2016);
• One-Toe, our amputee with only a half-hoof on her right rear leg, and her calf, Four Toes;
• First Calf Heifer #407 and two cows, #27-1 and #204, who all calved late; 

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• ​One virgin bull

 
Yes, our latest bull acquisition is a virgin. Or, at least he was for about eight hours after he was released into the pasture with the replacement heifers. He's a “heifer” or “calving-ease” bull: a young bull with the genetics to sire smaller birth weight calves that will gain quickly. Also, first-calf heifers are less likely to experience birthing difficulties that require human intervention to pull the calf.

Our Replacement Heifer Class of 2016 consists of eleven heifers born in the fall of 2015. These lucky young ladies have been selected to join the Hilbert Herd and are being bred to birth their first calves next fall. This class includes daughters from a couple of our herd legends: Three-Toes whose mama is One-Toe; and Frosty, a bottle calf whose mama, Hereford, didn’t have enough milk due to her advanced years and was subsequently culled from the herd last fall.
 
Welcome to our herd, ladies!

Last fall we said a sad goodbye to a couple of our herd legends, Hereford and Sweet Pea (“Romper Room Calves – Part 3: Frosty, Hereford and Heartbreak” posted March 29, 2016). Last week it was Proud Mary, one of the “Boomer Sooner Bovines” from my book, and matriarch of our “Creedence Clearwater Revival” bovine family.

Proud Mary was one of ten cows great with calves that Bill bought sight-unseen, except for emailed pictures, from an Oklahoma cattle trader in 2011. A few of the cows possessed some degree of Brahma genetics, both physical and temperamental, which Bill wasn’t particularly pleased about. But the price was right and the trader assured him that they would “gentle down” once they settled into their new digs. Besides, Bill intended to dilute the genetics with his Angus/Simmental/Gelbveih bulls to get future cows that would be less temperamental and fit in with our herd. The bull calves from this mixed heritage would bring good money at the feed lot.
 
When the ten Boomer Sooner Bovines were delivered and unloaded in the small corral pasture, four of them immediately threw up their heads and stampeded to the far end. The truck driver, also the trader’s brother, assured Bill they would settle down. Bill was doubtful; in fact, his thoughts were more along the line of “Gentle down, my a**!”
 
All ten cows calved and most did eventually “gentle down” to some extent. Two did not and, as soon as Bill could coax them back into the corral, they and their calves took a ride to the sale barn.
 
Cow #170 was one of the four who fled to the far end of the pasture. We used our old standby attitude adjusters, range cubes, to coax her to trust us. She loved those treats and eventually would eat them out of our hands. What a turn-around! She still maintained an arrogant demeanor so Bill named her “Proud Mary” because, as he said, “She holds her head up high like she is really proud.” The song of the same name by Creedence Clearwater Revival is also one of his favorites.
 
The name inspired future CCR song title names in our herd. That fall, I named Proud Mary’s heifer calf Creedence. Others followed: Fogerty for lead singer John Fogerty, Miss Molly and Suzy Q; and, in a nod to their version, Ike and Tina, as in Turner.
 
Proud Mary had a distinctive personality and although she was tame around us, her body language could come off as downright unfriendly! One of the landowners of a pasture we rent loved our cow, Sweet Pea, and would stand at the fence and feed her range cubes. Bill told her she could also feed Proud Mary, but the gal said, “She’s scary! If I step outside the house and she’s nearby, she tosses her head up and glares at me!” I’ve described Proud Mary’s expression as “sinister,” because of her facial markings and body language. When she tosses up her head and ears, she’s “on alert” and doesn't miss much.
 
Proud Mary was also a herd leader and protector. Bill kept a watchful eye on her when he tagged a newborn calf; not just hers, but any cow’s calf in the same pasture. If the calf squalled, Proud Mary charged to the rescue and brought reinforcements!
 
We kept Creedence as a replacement heifer and she’s still with us. Miss Molly, born in 2014, had her first calf this year. They, and perhaps their future heifers, will continue Proud Mary’s legacy of raising great calves.

Creedence ​and her calf, born this fall.

Proud Mary and a scrawny-looking Miss Mollie from Fall, 2014

Miss Molly, a well filled-out new mama, and her first calf, born this fall.

​Proud Mary didn’t birth a calf this fall. She either didn’t get bred or didn’t stay bred. Because of her age, around ten or eleven years old, her unfortunate destiny was to be culled from our herd. She was one of our favorites, but that’s the reality in a cattle operation.
 
The evening prior to her departure, I fed her a big handful of range cubes—we usually ration out two or three at a time—and said good-bye. The next morning, I watched from a window as Bill headed out the driveway with Proud Mary in the stock trailer. She was standing backwards in the trailer, as though she was taking her last look at her home for the past eight years. I waved as a couple of tears trailed down my cheeks. 

The conversation between Bill and Miracle, one of our “Romper Room” bottle calves from last fall, could have gone something like this:
 
Bill: Miracle, I need a favor.
Miracle: What’s that? Munch, munch (Miracle is grazing. Eating is serious business for her.)
Bill: We have a little week-old orphan heifer, #25. Her mama died, kind of like yours did last year.
Miracle: What do you want me to do? I certainly can’t feed her. Munch, munch
Bill: We’re taking care of that by bottle-feeding her milk replacer, just like we did you.
Miracle: I remember that was good stuff! Munch, munch
Bill: She’s shut up in the barn by herself, and she’s scared and lonely without her mama and her friends.
Miracle: I’ve heard her crying. Wondered what was up. Munch, munch
Bill: I just need you to stay in the corral pen with her so she has company and a warm body to snuggle up with. You wouldn’t be her substitute mama, more like a companion. It’s just for a few days, then I’ll turn you both out into the pasture with the first-calf heifers. Look, I’ll even sweeten the deal and give you grain when I feed the heifer.
Miracle: Grain, you say? I’m in! I do remember what it was like to be an orphan—lonely and afraid. Olpe and Frosty were really nice to me. I’ll bunk with her and be her companion. Munch, munch

​Yes, we have a bottle calf. Cow #25 unexpectedly succumbed to anaplasmosis a few days after her calf was born.
 
Anaplasmosis 101 – An infectious disease in cattle that causes destruction of red blood cells. It’s caused by a parasite, Anaplasma marginale, and can be transmitted from infected animals to healthy animals by insects and ticks. The disease destroys red blood cells, causing anemia, loss of appetite, decrease of milk production in lactating cows and, eventually, death.
 
Treatment with antibiotics can be effective in the early stages but, unfortunately, Cow #25 didn’t exhibit symptoms until the disease was too far advanced. Bill tried to administer antibiotics, but it was too late.
 
This Cow #25 was the daughter of a previous Cow #25, featured in my book in a chapter titled, “Marginally Unfit Mothers,” and sub-chapter “From Search-and-Rescue Mission to Near-Death Experience.” The original matriarch joined our herd as a first-calf heifer with her unborn calf. An adventure unfolded when I found the newborn calf in the timber, apparently abandoned because I didn’t see the mother. Bill was gone, of course, officiating at a high school football game that evening, and I was faced with having to stay with the calf to protect it from predators until he arrived home. The adventure continued the next day, nearly ending in a catastrophe when a squeeze chute malfunctioned and liberated a rampaging Cow #25 intent on doing me great bodily harm.

Yes, we still have Miracle, our miracle calf. Her story was part of my “Romper Room Calves” series posted earlier this year in March, http://www.fromhighheelstogumboots.com/gumboot-tracks-blog/archives/03-2016.
 
Miracle’s mom, Cow #54 a/k/a “Wheezy”, was seriously ill and we doubted she would even have a calf. But she surprised us! However, her major health issues, which were later attributed to bovine leukosis, prevented her from being a proper mother. She had very little milk and would abandon her calf. As a result, the calf turned up missing on two occasions for a total of eight days, surviving predators, dehydration, starvation and a major infestation of screwworms! Appropriately, Bill named her Miracle.
 
After the second disappearance, we took her to the barn to join two other bottle calves, Olpe and Frosty. The screwworm damage was extensive and took most of the winter to heal. As a result of the cow’s illness and  her rough start to life, Miracle’s growth was stunted. She is only about a third of the size of the other yearling calves we just sold. We didn’t sell her because she wouldn’t bring any money at the sale barn. Yearling calves are usually bought by feedlot owners and become feeder calves. With her diminutive size, nobody would want her. Maybe that’s why grazing is such serious business for her: she realizes her growth is stunted and eats to catch up!
 
But she’s a feisty and resilient little soul and very adaptable! If she gets crowded out at the feed bunk or water tank? No problem, she just circles until she finds a small opening to wiggle through.
 
We put the other heifers in one of the rented pastures during the summer, but pastured the steers at home. Bill wanted to keep Miracle close since she’s had some minor health issues—abscesses, some of which go away, but others have to be lanced then treated to prevent infection—so he put her in with the steers. Her “Romper Room” buddy, Olpe, and another steer she knew, Levi, were in that group so she hung with them. After the steers were sold, Bill put her in the small pasture with the first-calf heifers. She follows the small herd, grazing and mostly minding her own business.
 
Another conversation between Bill and Miracle that could have occurred a couple of days after the first one:
 
Miracle: Farmer Bill, could I have a word with you please? Munch, munch
Bill: Sure, Miracle, what is it?
Miracle: This companion gig is OK. She’s a cute little thing and giving back what other calves once gave me makes me feel valued; gives me a purpose in life since I’ll never be a full-fledged cow. And I appreciate the grain ration. But could you please explain the difference between a companion and a mama to her? As soon as she polishes off the bottle of milk replacer and you leave, she trots over and tries to suck my teats! Munch, munch
Bill: Sorry, Miracle. Just give her a little nudge. She’ll soon figure it out.

​If new twins Heckle and Jeckle could talk that’s what they’d say about their mama, Chubby. In fact, nine years ago she joined our herd as a jailbait first-calf heifer!  
 
The second part of the story about our history-making banner day on September 8th was that Chubby birthed twins. Not the usual heifer and bull as we’ve had in the past, but two bulls. As I stated in my last post, bull or steer calves bring more money than heifers at the sale barn. You can just imagine how deliriously happy Bill was when he tagged the calves, checked their plumbing and discovered they were both bulls!
 
As with any birth of twins in our operation, there was an adventure. But first, the story of the 

In 2007, Bill increased his herd with the purchase of six first-calf heifers with month-old calves on them. He didn’t want to spend much money and found a young cattleman looking to cull these pairs and willing to negotiate on price. The heifers had all been mistakenly bred very young—think “jailbait”—by a philandering, fence-jumping bull. Bill selected five pair that would blend well with his herd. He rejected the sixth pair because he didn’t like the build of either the first-calf heifer or her bull calf, which he referred to it as a “knothead.” Plus, the heifer had horns; he didn’t want a horned cow in his herd.
 
The cattleman was anxious to get rid of the pair so discounted the price. Bill reluctantly agreed to take them. Since then, Bill has referred to these six cows has his “Bargain Basement Cows.”
 
The members of this not-so-elite group were:
 
“Hereford” – One of our favorites due to her gentle disposition. She was a good mom, had plenty of milk and raised great calves. Unfortunately, we had to sell her earlier this year because her milk supply failed.
 
“Prolapse” – Another Hereford and the subject of a chapter by that name in my book. She suffered a uterine prolapse with the birth of her calf the following year. That was our first experience with prolapse. The veterinarian was able to repair the problem and save the cow. But Bill later sold her and the calf.
 
No Name, No Number – Probably the best cow of the bunch but didn’t breed a few years ago and was subsequently sold.
 
#207 and #261 – Not named, but both produce good calves and are still members of our herd.
 
“Chubby” – The almost-rejected cow with the horns and now a sentimental favorite. Since “Knothead,” she’s raised good calves. In the beginning her disposition was flighty, but she’s mellowed with age and even eats range cubes out of our hands! 

Continuing from my last post, “Good Golly, Miss Molly!” as I returned to the kitchen multi-tasking projects, another history-making event was unfolding. One of the cows in our farthest east pasture had separated from the rest of the herd and sequestered herself in the southeast corner in a low area where erosion wash-out had formed a few shallow ditches. Through binoculars, I could barely see the top of her back when she was standing and nothing when she lay down.
 
During a break in the culinary action, I changed back into my still-damp-from-sweat farm clothes, grabbed the binoculars and my cell phone, stepped into my trusty gumboots and clomped out in the heat and humidity on the half-mile walk to find the cow. The trek was mostly uphill through tall native grass. If she was lying in the low area, I’d probably almost be on top of her when I found her. And that’s what happened.
 
The cow was Chubby. I’d startled her and she struggled to her feet. There was no calf but I could see mucus streaming from her back end. I turned and retreated as quickly and quietly as possible while trying not to fall into one of the ditches, and hoped she wouldn’t be agitated and leave this area.
 
Bill was fishing at Lake Perry. I pulled out my cellphone and called him from the pasture with the news. From my description, he surmised Chubby was just starting labor and there was no reason to rush home yet.
 
He arrived home a couple of hours later, picked me up and we drove out to the area where I’d seen Chubby. She was still there and cleaning off a newly-born calf. Bill parked a short distance away, grabbed a bucket of grain and his ear-tagger and slowly walked toward her. He poured the grain on the ground and walked around her to tag the calf, where he found another calf! Omigosh, twins!
 
Bill quietly walked back to the truck and reloaded the tagger. After he tagged the second calf, he checked the plumbing and determined they were both bulls—another historical event in our calving operation. Previously, our sets of twins all consisted of a bull and heifer. And to top it off, Chubby appeared to claim both calves: She had cleaned them off and was letting both nurse. Hot dang and hallelujah! This called for a Margarita before we ate lunch!
 
Early that evening we drove back out to the pasture to check on the new family. Chubby had relocated about 150 yards from her labor and delivery location…and we saw only one calf. Bill circled around the new area, driving slowly so he didn't accidentally run over the missing calf before we saw it. But we didn’t see the other twin. Unfortunately, even if a cow cleans both twins and lets them suck, she may not always round up both of them when she goes on the move. If one calf is napping and doesn’t get up, it gets left behind.
 
We knew if we didn’t find that missing twin before nightfall it would be coyote bait, as Bill calls it. He slowly and carefully drove back to the birth area, both of us intently looking out our respective windows in case the calf had started out with the rest of the family but became weak and laid down. We arrived at the birth area and found him curled up asleep. Bill parked the pickup several yards away, as close as he could get because of the ditches, and opened up the back. He picked up the calf, carried him to the truck, loaded him, shut the tailgate and topper door, and heaved a huge sigh of relief. We’d found the calf and he was alive!
 
But the little bull was weak and may or may not have gotten much colostrum from Chubby. We considered taking him to the barn for the night and giving him a bottle of a just-add-water substitute, then trying to reunite him with Chubby the next morning. She and the other calf were about a quarter mile from the gate then, but they could be anywhere in the pasture by tomorrow.
 
Bill stopped the truck, grabbed his herding sticks and walked toward the pair. Chubby wasn’t pleased to be poked at with a stick and even less so when Bill prodded her calf. She shook her head and expressed her displeasure at being bothered in terse cow-speak. Further urging from Bill got her and the calf headed in the general direction of the gate into the small corral pasture. He motioned for me to follow in the truck at a distance.
 
Chubby veered off a couple of times but Bill redirected her back on course. The calf followed along. About 100 yards from the gate, Bill motioned and yelled for me to circle wide, drive through the gate and stop a short distance beyond. I got out of the truck and watched as Bill herded the pair to the gate, marveling that this adventure was about to have a happy ending.
 
Then Chubby bolted. She loped away from the gate and along the fence. The calf tried to follow, but Bill grabbed its hind leg and dragged it back toward the gate while it squalled in protest. Hearing the distress cry, Chubby slammed on her bovine brakes, reversed direction and lumbered to the rescue right through the gate!
 
I was so relieved and happy I teared up.  
 
Bill opened the back of truck, lifted out the abandoned twin and set him down near Chubby. He gave him a little shove toward the teats and the hungry little bull latched on. When Bill checked on them later, he saw the calf eating again and heard loud slurping noises. He kept them in the corral pasture for a few days to reinforce the familial bond then opened the gate so they could join the first-calf heifers in the small pasture we can monitor from the house.
 
Historical events and hallelujah moments in the Hilbert herd! 

First-Calf Heifer #206 started off our 2016 fall calving season by presenting us with a fine bull on August 28th.

Bill named the calf Petey, after the dog in the Little Rascals/Our Gang television series of the 1950’s; although our Petey only has the black spot on one eye, not the black circle around the other eye.
 
FCH #206 is the daughter of our only Hereford cow that, unfortunately, is no longer with us because she didn’t have enough milk to sustain her heifer last year. Bill has saved several of her daughters as replacement heifers because she previously had the milk flow to raise good calves and she had a gentle disposition. Even if we no longer have Hereford, we have the bloodline.
 
Here’s are a couple of pics from 2014 of Hereford and FCH #206 as a calf only a few days old. 

And here’s the new mama, nuzzling and giving Petey his post-supper bath. Hereford would be so proud!

​The new calf count is at 11, but that could change any minute!