Godfrey Family Farms

Cookie delivered a little heifer calf this morning, around 8 a.m. I’d post a pic if the camera would play nice and interface with the computer, but it won’t. So, for now, you will have to take my word for it when I tell you that the calf is super cute.

Yesterday we learned that Mocha’s calf is no more. I still can’t wrap my mind around where it might have gone. So sad.

Today Brian picked up a little chute from a friend. It is kind of like a milking stanchion, but not exactly. It is portable, and very similar to something that we’ve drawn and redrawn on paper, trying to figure out how to make. So now we have one, and that is a good thing.

Brian led Mocha over to the chute and led her through it and around it, letting her get used to the look, feel and smell of it. Then he secured her in. We gave her a bit of grain and started milking. She did kick, but not as much as yesterday, and the big benefit is that she can’t wander off. Yesterday she’d kick and then start walking one direction or the next.

Last year, I milked with her tied to the gate. Often, I forgot to secure the lead, she was just standing there munching her treat. I’m very hopeful that she will return to that, and the chute is making that hope seem more likely.

Mocha kicked a bit up front, but did calm down. We got about a gallon of milk–not as much as we’d like to get, but her body is telling her to dry up since there is no calf. With consistent milking, we will reverse that and, we hope, increase her milk yield.

Time will tell if our hope is well-founded. For now, the reward is some fresh milk, chilling in the fridge.

By now, I was hoping to post pictures of a new calf. Mocha, our Jersey, was due today. For the past couple weeks, we’ve been checking for signs that delivery was imminent.  She had “bagged up,” meaning that her udder had swollen up, ready for a calf.

For days now, we’ve been taking regular peeks at Mocha’s hind end, looking for swelling and evidence that a calf was pushing its way out into the world. There wasn’t much to see, so we just kept checking.

My concern was related to the trouble Mocha had last year. She had her first calf a year ago. At that time, she lived at a small dairy. Her labor didn’t progress, and the vet had to cut the calf out of her because it died inside. I’ve been a little worried that she might have trouble this time around, so today we asked a friend to come and check progress.

We have a friend who knows a lot more about cows than we do. Mike is willing to come over and show us what to do. He put on a shoulder length pink glove to go have a feel around.

There are many things in life that I’ve tried, but sticking my hand in a cow’s backside is not one of them. It is a good thing to have  a friend who is willing to help us out in such a manner. Ask yourself: “Do I have any friends that would put their hand into the back end of a cow for me?” If the answer is “yes,” you are blessed indeed.

So there we were, out in the pasture. Mike looked up at me, puzzled. “When did she have her calf?” he asked.

“She didn’t have a calf. She’s supposed to have it today.”

“No, I’m serious now. Where is her calf?”

“OK, not funny, Mike. Look around. There is no calf here.”

“Well, there is no calf in here, either.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Mike said the calf had been delivered a week or more previously. We never saw a sign.

There is one small part of our pasture that has electric fencing only. Mocha was in that part of the pasture until we moved her on July 4. Our best guess is that the calf wandered through the fence somehow and just kept walking. Either that, or someone came and took the calf.

I suppose that either scenario is possible, but the part that is so troubling is the total lack of signs. We saw no evidence of afterbirth, bleeding, swelling, any of that. Mocha’s mood has been even, no distress at not having her calf, nothing.

I’ve been distressed, just thinking of that poor little calf wandering off, getting lost and most likely dying. With the heat, it wouldn’t have made it long, and there are coyotes in the fields behind us. I don’t like to think about what happened to the sweet little calf.

There was no time to lose, though. Mocha needed to be milked, so I got set up. Last year, she was such an easy milker. Today, not so much. She commenced to kicking, and I commenced to getting out of the way. Her udder is so tight and swollen, I believe she is in pain when I touch her udder. Plus, a strange man had just gotten fresh with her, and she was not amused.

There I was in the pasture, upset that we’d lost Mocha’s calf and frustrated that I could not milk Mocha. I sat down on my overturned blue milk crate and cried, right there in the pasture.

We will try again tomorrow, and hope for the best.

Mocha and Cookie are getting so close to having their calves. Any day now. Their udders are filled out and Mocha has started leaking milk. She is super ready. Every now and then, one of them bellows and I throw on my boots and run out with a flashlight. They both look up at me with a quizzical look. They must think I’ve lost it.