Moving cattle

Sorry for the silence of the last few days, but we've been crazy-busy since my return from Portland. There are a lot of things occupying our plate during this our busy season, not least of which is moving cattle around.

We're still in the grip of a nasty month-long heat wave with temps in the mid- to high-nineties. I know folks in the southwest consider that a cold snap, but we're not used to it up here just a couple hours from the Canadian border. None of us do well in heat -- that's why we're not living in Phoenix or something -- so we've been suffering through (without air conditioning, of course) as best we can.

We've been vigilant about the comfort of the cattle, of course. I don't think it's humane to let animals bake in unrelenting sun with no shade if there are alternatives available. So depending on the temperature, we've been shuffling the beasties between the pasture (no shade) and the woods (shaded but not as much food) as needs be.

Yesterday we decided it was time to move them onto a neighboring 20 acres we lease during the late summer and early fall. This property has abundant trees, fresh grazing, and a pond -- so we call it "the pond property."

But first we needed to put some animals in with Samson, our bull, for breeding. This required me to figure out who was already bred, who was due to give birth, who was too young to breed, and other particulars. We don't like to breed heifers until they're about 15 months old, which means they'll birth their first calf at the mature age of two.

We decided we would put in Victoria and her yearling heifer calf Rosy, and pretty little Dusty. The two young ladies are now old enough to breed, having been born last May.

It was an easy matter to call all the critters into the feed lot (adjacent to the bull pen) with our universal cattle call of "Bossy bossy bossy bossy BOSSY!!" Before letting anyone loose, of course, we closed the driveway gate, just in case... though it was unlikely anyone would wander in that direction.

Then we starting cutting out animals one by one.

They knew where to go, and obediently trotted to the pasture gate... though, I might add, without much enthusiasm. After all, it's hot, and the pasture is pretty much eaten down.

Nonetheless, in they went.

They fanned out, picking dutifully at the short grass.

Once all the target animals were out of the feedlot, we opened the gate to the bullpen and let Samson out, along with his pen-mate Raven who's been with him since mid-June and is now, we assume, bred. We'll leave the gate open and let the animals wander between the bull pen and the feed lot. We'll scoot Raven out when the opportunity presents itself, but there's no rush. (Raven is the black cow. All the others are red or dun.)

Samson was having the time of his life, sniffing all the girls' butts.

Meanwhile Don and I didn't say a word to the rest of the cattle, but we quietly started walking to the bottom of the pasture to open the gate to the pond property. It didn't take long for the critters to catch on to what we were doing.

They started following us...

...quietly at first, then with increasing enthusiasm.

The older animals knew precisely what was up. The younger ones just followed along.

Soon, in their enthusiasm, they got ahead of Don and me.

The babies, Chuck and Lucy, didn't know what was going on, but the enthusiasm of the herd was catching and they dashed around playing tag, despite the heat.

"C'mon!! Open the gate already!"

Within seconds, everyone was pouring through...

...including the babies.

They settled right away into bovine bliss. Fresh food, lots of shade, plenty of water... not much more a cow could ask for!

An hour or so later, I went to check up on the critters in the feedlot. Samson was still sniffing bottoms.

Bulls routinely do what's called a Flehmen response, which allows them to test for the presence of pheromones to determine whether a female is in heat. That's what Samson did the blessed day long with his new harem.

Cows cycle about ever 21 days, but the very presence of a bull may trigger a cycle sooner. These ladies will be bred within a month at most (it's best to keep a cow with a bull for two cycles, just to make sure a breeding "takes").

Meanwhile I saw an opportunity to shoo Raven out of the feedlot. She went into the pasture with very little trouble.

Trouble was, she didn't know where everyone else was. For two or three hours she grazed by her lonely self in the hot baking sun. Finally I took pity on her, went into the pasture, and started walking down toward the pond property. I called very softly, "Bossy bossy bossy!" and she fell right in line behind me.

Within a couple of minutes, she was through the gate.

I walked her to where the other animals were blissfully grazing in the shade.

She was very happy to rejoin her herd-mates after a six-week stint in the bull pen!

Little Alice came bouncing right over to say hi.

So all was right with the cows. But as I walked back up to the house admiring the pretty clouds to the north...

...I turned and noticed this ominous smoke to the south.

I immediately called the Fire Department to see if this was a controlled burn (in this heat? not likely!) or a wildfire. It was the latter, and the hard-working firefighters had it subdued within an hour or so. It started from a lightening strike from a thunderstorm that rolled through night before last. Scary moment!

Life without Ruby

Thank you for all your support for our difficult decision to butcher one of our herd matriarchs, Ruby. The butchering went off without a hitch last Monday.

So what is life like without Ruby? As predicted, much calmer.

And I mean, seriously calmer. The big test comes each morning and afternoon when we feed under the barn awning.

Up to this point we fed over two fences -- the barn awning, and another fence into the feed lot. The reason for this is because Ruby would literally take over either one feeding spot or the other while she ate, while much of the herd would ebb and flow to the other feeding spots in accordance to Ruby's whims. Anything to get away from those horns. With that jittery dynamic no longer a factor, everyone has been grazing more peacefully under the awning, protected from the weather as they're supposed to be.

The animals still jockey for position, of course, but that's just normal pecking-order stuff.

I've been keeping an eye on Alice, Ruby's calf. At ten months she's certainly old enough to be without her mother, but that doesn't mean she wants to, if you know what I mean. But because we always make sure butchering is done out of sight of the herd, Alice doesn't know her mother is dead, just gone. So far she's adjusting fine, with a minimum of fuss.

But I did catch her sneaking a drink from Matilda, along with Matilda's calf Amy.

God bless Matilda, whom we affectionately call our Universal Donor. At one point three calves were trying to cop a drink, which is pretty funny since she only has two working quarters. But it's nice to know there's a little comfort food for Alice if she needs it.

One of the reasons we were anxious to see what life would be like without Ruby is because we plan to build feed boxes this fall, under the awning. Feed boxes would reduce the amount of wasted hay, as well as keep it cleaner (out of mud, poop, and urine). But feed boxes assume you don't have a domineering horned animal going around goring everyone.

So for the moment life is peaceful once more. It's really amazing how one animal can affect the herd dynamics so strongly.

Our other herd matriarch, Jet, has been in the bull pen with Samson, our bull, for the winter. When she comes out, we'll see what happens as far as dominance goes. Jet is also fairly bossy and she has horns, but she's never had an ornery mean streak as Ruby had, and was never inclined to gore other animals.

If that changes... well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

A difficult decision

Tomorrow is butchering day. We have a steer, Chester, who is actually only a half-steer. That's my fault -- I did a lousy job with the banding -- and as a result this randy fellow has been happily coasting around with our young heifers, who aren't old enough to breed yet. So he's going in the freezer, even though he's pretty young.

This isn't a difficult decision. Steers always have a date with the freezer. It's just a matter of when.

However something happened this week that caused Don and I to add another animal to the freezer list, and that's one of our herd matriarchs, Ruby.

We got Ruby and Jet shortly after we arrived in Idaho, when they were about nine months old. Right now these ladies are about eleven.

Both have horns, and both have very different dispositions. From the start Jet has been very sweet and mostly gentle. From the start, Ruby has been an absolute pisser. She's very much the dominant animal on our farm.

Nonetheless I milked her and Jet for several years, and she has faithfully birthed a healthy calf every time she's bred. She's an excellent mother and produces beautiful calves, which is why we've put up with her for this long.

But there's no question her dominance affects the dynamics in the feedlot. I feed over two fences (our goal is eventually to build feed boxes), and Ruby usually sweeps the other animals out of her way. Often she ends up with the whole awning almost by herself...

...while the rest of the herd makes do with the feed by the other fence.

This demonstrates how much our animals are held hostage to Ruby's dominance.

Then something happened this week which made me mad enough to spit nails.

I was feeding the cattle in the morning in the feedlot. Parts are still pretty muddy from the winter snowmelt, so the cows have to pick their way to dry ground.

As usual Ruby came along and swept everyone from her path under the awning as she searched for the choicest hay. One of the cows she swept out of her path was Polly, our purebred Jersey. Polly lunged away from Ruby, tripped, and got momentarily mired in the mud and couldn't get up.

Instantly Ruby was on her, attacking Polly as she lay helpless on the ground.

I leaped into the feedlot and started whaling on Ruby with the back side of the pitchfork. Startled, Ruby broke off her attack and this gave Polly the chance to start heaving herself to her feet. But then Ruby went after Polly again, so I continued whaling on Ruby until Polly had a chance to get away.

To say I was furious is an understatement. Poor Polly has a scarred backside from putting up with Ruby's temper. The last thing she needs is to be gored by a mean cow.

So after discussing it with Don, we called the mobile butchers and asked them to add a second animal to dispatch when they come to our farm. Enough is enough.

Yet I am not at peace with this decision. Butchering Ruby will leave little Alice orphaned, always a sad situation. Alice was born in June and is now ten months old. She's plenty old enough to wean, but it will be hard on her at first.

Yet butchering the steer, Chester, will deprive his mother Raven of her calf... and I'm not having bad dreams about this decision. We need to do what's in the best interest of our farm.

I know butchering Ruby is the best thing in the long run and will make life much more peaceful for the rest of the critters, but I confess I've been having nightmares (literally) about it. I've been walking around with a knot of dread in my stomach for the last couple of days. This is one of the few butcherings I won't attend. I plan to head into town tomorrow morning and hang out someplace until the deed is done.

It's hard to say goodbye to an animal we've had for ten years, even if she's a bad-tempered twit.