Monday, April 11, 2011

Cow Day


                              
  

      You have not lived until you have experienced working cows on the farm.  I kid you not, this is an experience like none other.  You know I grew up on a farm.  When I was 21 I moved away and now visit only about once per month.  I live an easy suburban life.  The only animals I feed are my 2 dogs.  I wear high heels almost everyday.  I enjoy the occasional pedicure.  I pay someone to mow my grass.  I have almost forgotten what farming is all about.  BUT...twice a year I pay my dues as a farmers daughter and go home to help "work the cows".  A few of you know what I am talking about.  For most of you I can only assume that it would be an experience beyond your greatest imagination.      
   
       I got the call on Friday night, Sunday would be the day.  It is always last minute.  I had brunch plans with a friend that had to be postponed until dinner.  The scheduling is based on when the help is available.  Not my help, the strong help.  We would start at 7am, so I set my alarm for 5:45am.  Cary set the coffee pot the night before for 6am so I could have some caffeine for the road.  He had to work, so he missed all of the fun.  You do not want to wear nice clothes for this day.  In fact, the worse, the better.  I rolled straight out of bed, put on my old sweats, shoes and hat and headed to the farm, a 1 hour drive.  Grandmother had homemade biscuits, sausage and eggs waiting for me when I got there.  (Even though I have been eating little meat, I cannot resist a bite at Grandmothers) 
    
We were working ALL of the cows this time.  Mamas and babies, about 100 total.  My dad had gotten the cows to the barn before I got there (the noise you make to call a cow cannot be spelled in a blog), so they were all waiting for us in front of the barn.  100 cows balling.....and you can imagine the smell.  The old ones know what is coming.  The babies are in for something special.  They do not like the looks of me.  I wore a hot pink shirt, probably not my best choice but it was 5:45 am after all.  They balled louder and some charged the fence when I walked by.  They are very accustomed to my dad and grandparents, but weary of city folk : )      
           There is a maze of small pens and gates used to separate the cows from the babies, then a long narrow pen leading to their destination, the "head catcher".  It is exactly as it sounds.  Narrow around the body and tight around the neck to minimize the head movement.  They typically do not like this.  They are huge and strong and angry.  They are usually slobbering and balling and trying to swing  their head in such a way as to knock you down.  Noses have been broken.  Sometimes they try to climb over the top, sometimes they do. 
     The purpose of working the cows is to immunize the babies against "black leg" and "pink eye" and the cows against something I have never heard of, "lepto".  We also trim their horns, put a fly tag in their ear, and if they are unlucky enough to be born male....castration!  I must say, the ladies have the luck in the cow world.  Very few boys are kept for bulls.  Most are castrated and then sent to the market for meat.  The girls (heifers) have a much higher chance of a long happy life on the farm making babies.

     I am a nurse practitioner, I am experienced with immunizations.  My job on cow day is to draw up all of the shots and load all of the ear tags so the guys can get busy once the cow is in the head catcher.  I am also on standby to assess any injuries.  There are always injuries.  JD works on the head, replacing the fly tag, while my dad gives the shot and keeps the others in line.  I gave a couple of shots, but mostly try to stay out of danger.  My grandmother is the gopher and my granddad works the head catcher (pretty good for 85, you have to catch them just at the right moment!)

                                         There are 2 accepted methods for castration.  One is banding (a tight rubber band left on to cut off the circulation), the other is cutting.....we cut.  It is actually more of a cut and pull, (use your imagination here).  As I said before, the best help is the strong help.  As it turns out, baby bulls don't like to be castrated : /  For the castrations, I got promoted to pressing a bar over there neck to keep them more stable while JD (the strong help) moves to the rear.  He holds them up (by the tail) to keep them from sitting while my dad does "the job".  There is about a 95% chance of getting kicked, or worse, shat upon during this process.  I tried to give them some loving by petting their head during the "procedure", but as you can imagine, they found no solace in my touch...
     The remains are thrown on the ground for which the dogs find great delight!  Once everything is done, my granddad opens the head catcher and they are free.  Some of them simply walk forward, some of them leap out of there and others (possibly low IQ) just stand there.  I whispered to them, "you're free".  Finally, they understand and move forward.   We did this 100 times in what felt like 100 degree weather.  It took about 5 hours and that was considered good time.  My dad got kicked in the leg, but overall, no complications.  I was sweaty and dirty and probably smelly.  Gross I know, but I had 12 ticks on me!  We were exhausted and hungry.  I changed clothes, ate lunch and headed back to Murfreesboro for a shower and a nap. 
     Once I woke up, I put on a dress and heels and went to dinner.   I like that I grew up on a farm.  I like that I can live in both worlds.  I like that I can handle most any situation.  I am rarely if ever a damsel in distress.  It is true what they say, "Country boys (and girls) can survive" : )  
                                                        


2 comments:

  1. wow - what a description! I had so many favorite parts, but my favorite was that being shat upon was worse than being kicked - you are a girly girl!! I have done my share of "banding" - Jesse's job is always to hold the tool, mine is to "retrieve the merchandise"...
    So that's what you were doing while we were sipping lattes and chatting at Starbucks - we missed you, bu that counts as an excused absence.
    Loved reading about this side of you - you are complex, you sophisticated country girl!
    Looking forward to Friday night

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  2. Gayle, I love that you can relate! You know I left out a couple of disgusting details. I truly missed out on the Jordan girls this weekend. :( Can't wait til Friday!

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