What an emotional rollercoaster. Yesterday we lost a newborn calf (Rosie was expecting a calf in April…so we thought). The night before last my dog Mina who has a special bond with the cows, kept opening the front door and staring at me from outside. This isn’t her normal behaviour. Every now and then when its really cold out she will open the front door (yes my dogs know how to open the front door) and come inside. However, she it wasn’t cold enough for her to be uncomfortable, and she wasn’t trying to come inside. Yet…there she was. Persistently trying to get my attention. This being a completely new thing for her, I didn’t know what she was trying to tell me. So, we went to bed as per usual. In the morning I woke up, fixed breakfast and went outside (the sun was just starting to come up) to go say good morning to the animals (yes…I talk to them). And…just behind Rosie was her baby. Dead. All of the hope, excitement, and anticipation I have been feeling for months drained out of me. All I could do was run back inside sobbing. My partner came to console me as I cried, beating myself up inside. These animals are MY responsibility. I am here to care for them. Or…I’m supposed to be. I hadn’t put her in the barn last night. I hadn’t seen the signs of labour. And…now we lost a calf.
I had dreamt about this day almost two weeks ago. In my dream I awoke and found the calf dead, Rosie by its side. Except in this dream I was not sobbing frantically. I calmly informed a friend of mine, who is embarking on a journey to make vellum and needed a stillborn calf’s hide, that my calf had died and that I would save her the hide. In the dream I mourned, but the pain was manageable. I was calm and cool.
Two weeks later…this was not the scene in my home. I could barely hold my composure enough to speak. However, managed to tell another dear farming friend, that the calf had died and it was all my fault. She calmly reminded me that I had no idea if the baby had been alive to start with, and, that with expecting her to calve in April it is possible she had aborted. In which case I couldn’t have done anything anyways. This helped my ego calm down…but inside I know it isn’t true. The baby seemed to be full term. But the fact remains…we weren’t ready for it.
She also reminded me that Rosie wanted a baby…and somewhere on some dairy was an orphaned calf that would be heathier and happier with a mother like Rosie. My crying stopped…Rosie needed a baby.
I called 10 dairies. One close by, an organic dairy, had calves and although I said I was looking for a steer (they are often easy to obtain from a dairy) they offered me a heifer calf, to ease my grief, and for less than they would normally ask for a bull calf/steer. The little girl they had was a Brown Swiss, Hereford cross.
I headed over to pick up the little soul and bring her to a hurting mama (Rosie kept calling to her baby trying to get it to stand). We got to the dairy without delay and picked up the little calf. The dairy was clean and well managed (a relief as I’ve been to some atrocious dairies before). They showed me a picture of her father and pointed out what she will look like when she is older from other cows among the herd. The dairy explained why they chose these breeds, being an organic dairy they cannot treat with the same medications conventional dairies can; these breeds are much less prone to illness in dairy settings.
We loaded up the precious cargo and headed home. When I unloaded the little calf and walked up to Rosie’s pen, she stood up right away and came running over. Rosie began calling to the calf and as soon as I had her in the pen she was covering her with kisses. Rosie knows this is not her calf. She smelled her extensively. Cows know their babies by smell. But, Rosie is intent on loving her and caring for her. She is the ever protective and doting mother.
I assisted the calf to remember how to nurse from a cow (she had been bottle fed up to now) and within 15 minutes and after about 10 attempts, she had it and was nursing beautifully. There were three relieved souls in that barn; Rosie, the calf, and myself. All will be well.
Although I still have to painful task of harvesting what I can from the calf (the skin like in my dream), the stomach for making rennet, and anything else I can, my heart is calming. Every life on the farm, regardless of how short, will be honoured by never wasting life, or what remains of it.
This rollercoaster has brought me from despair and pain, to relief and elation to calm respect and gratitude.
Living this life I have come to recognize the strong and deep connection between life and death. Without death, life is not possible. Life, by necessity, implies death also. Although we will at times mourn and at times celebrate, we are always somewhere along this cycle and all parts of the cycle demand respect.
And so, dear friends, it is with a grieving, but slowly soothing heart, that I wish you soothing balm for all of your grief.
From my home fire to yours, hai hai.
