The bulk of our calves are born between the months of March and September on our dairy farm.
This spring a herd of 18 rambunctious heifers I’d raised from birth calved for the first time. All of the heifers calved easily with no complications; however, we did have a renegade named O’Donnell (her mother’s name was Rosie), whose motherly instincts overpowered her natural inclination to stay with her herd mates.
O’Donnell was the last heifer to calve, and we’d been watching her closely every day. Sometimes we would find her outside the confines of her corral eating hay or lounging on a bed of straw in the greenhouse.
From the time she was 8 months old, she had discovered how to maneuver through electric fences. As a result of her mischievous behavior, which also led her herd mates astray, we had to resort to using barbed-wire fence for the first time. This did little to deter her, for she discovered ways to weasel her way through the double strands of barbed wire. Sometimes when my husband, Matthew, herded her with the four-wheeler, she’d sail over the five-foot-high fence like a nimble, white-tailed deer.
So it was no surprise to us that O’Donnell disappeared when it came time to have her calf.
Driving the four-wheeler, Matthew searched all of our pastures looking for signs of O’Donnell. By Tuesday afternoon, she’d been missing for over 24 hours. We thought for sure she’d return to the barn for food and water since there was barely a blade of green grass in the fields. We began to worry that she’d had a difficult time birthing and needed our help.
When I returned home from school with the children on Tuesday, I announced to my 9-year-old daughter, Anna, “We’re going to look for O’Donnell in the south pasture this afternoon. We’ll go on foot and take Blackie with us. He might pick up O’Donnell’s scent and help us find her.”
“Okay!” Anna said eagerly. “I’d love to go with you!”
We changed into our work clothes, and I slipped my phone into my pocket. Blackie bounded down the trail ahead of Anna and me. When we stopped to listen for sounds that would lead us to the missing heifer, we heard rustling leaves behind us.
When we turned around, we saw our barn cat, “Jerry,” trotting along behind us with his tail curled over his back. We giggled at Jerry, who meowed at us as if to say, “I’m coming too!” Now our search and rescue team was complete.
A cloudless blue sky and a gentle sun warming our backs made the hike down the trail pleasant. Even though we were deep in the woods, there wasn’t a blackfly or a mosquito to be found. The dry conditions and cool nighttime temperatures had prevented pesky insects from revitalizing.
After walking for half a mile, we reached the south pasture. There were fresh hoof marks imprinted in the mud near a partially full water tub. “She must be down here,” I said to Anna.
A hundred steps later, we spied a cow paddie. Anna stuck a stick into the mush mound and said, “It looks fresh to me.”
As we hiked, we scanned the 60-acre field. Clusters of fir and spruce trees scattered throughout the field made perfect places for a cow and her calf to hide. We trekked down the middle of the pasture and headed west into an area of thicker brush. “We need to split up,” I said to Anna.
“Okay,” she answered.
“You walk along the fence line, and I’ll head directly east. We’ll meet each other just ahead. You’ll be able to see me most of the time,” I added.
Anna turned toward the fence as I started my easterly course. I hadn’t walked 10 steps when Anna said, “Mama, I found her! She’s right here!”
“You did! Are you sure?”
“Yes, Mama, I’m sure. I’m looking at a black cow with a stripe along its back.”
I strode toward Anna and looked in the direction she was pointing. Sure enough, there was O’Donnell grazing on the only patch of green grass in the entire pasture.
“You found her Anna, good for you!” I exclaimed as she grinned from ear to ear. “By the looks of her flat belly, she’s had her calf and she’s hidden it somewhere around here. Let’s see if we can find it.”
I had noticed Blackie had darted into the woods on the opposite side of the fence, so Anna and I ducked under the fence and entered an evergreen forest. We stepped across a cushiony carpet of thick green moss. Sunlight filtered through the evergreen boughs, turning mossy patches on the forest floor fluorescent green.
“Wow!” I exclaimed. “It’s beautiful in here. This is a perfect place to hide a calf.”
“It’s like a magical forest,” Anna said.
As we crept across the moss, we watched Blackie dash from tree to tree with his nose to the ground. Within a few minutes, he found the calf curled up on top of a lush bed of moss by the base of an evergreen. Blackie, who befriended all of our calves, began licking the calf vigorously. At first the calf remained still and silent, but when it realized Blackie was not its mother it belted, “MAAAAW!” which meant, “Help me, save me!”
Within seconds, O’Donnell crashed through the woods, heading straight for her calf. Blackie heard the cow coming and quickly ran to where Anna and I were standing a safe distance away.
“Good dog, Blackie, you found the calf,” I praised. He wiggled his body and wagged his tail with delight. I called Matthew with the good news.
“I’ll be right down with the four-wheeler. Don’t take your eyes off that cow,” he warned.
“Don’t worry, I won’t. When I hear the four-wheeler, I’ll send Anna out to the field to show you where we are.”
As Anna and I waited, we listened to O’Donnell and her calf talking to each other. O’Donnell stood on guard beside her healthy heifer calf, licking its coat until it glistened. Blackie sat at our feet, and a few yards away, Jerry was sprawled under a small fir tree watching our every move. Tilting my head back, I looked up through the forest canopy and saw where the treetops met the cloudless blue sky. My soul sang with satisfaction.
“We are so lucky right now in this moment,” I said to Anna. “We are standing in the middle of a magical forest watching a cow and her newborn calf bond on a perfect spring day, and we’re not getting eaten alive by bugs!”
She flashed her beautiful smile as I gave her a squeeze. Search and rescue mission accomplished.
