Stormy's growth

Some readers have asked how our little calf Stormy is doing. She's growing! The photograph below shows her drinking her breakfast moments after I finished milking Maggie and released Stormy from the calf pen.

Honestly, I've never a calf this leggy. She's nearly as tall as Romeo, who is three months older. Romeo is, of course, much beefier, since he's not only older, but a half-Angus, half-Dexter steer.

Stormy and Romeo are good friends.

It seems Stormy might be polled, too, which is interesting. We've never raised a polled calf before. Saves us the trouble of dehorning her!

She's also very sweet and affectionate. Originally we were thinking we would sell her (a woman from our church is interested), but now we're thinking we'll keep her as a possible second milker when she's older. With her half-Angus heritage, her calves will be beefier and will work as meat animals (especially since the only bulls around here are pure Angus, so we can keep the meat lineage going). Meanwhile we'll phase out our pure Angus animals, since we prefer the Jersey strain. Filet has a date with the butcher in August, and next year it will be Mignon's turn, followed by Romeo the year after that. Meanwhile we might keep our eyes peeled for a second purebred Jersey sometime next year.

So that's the update on Stormy.

More on milking Maggie

In the last post on training Maggie to milk, a reader asked for more details on how I hobble her back leg to avoid getting kicked. This morning I took the camera with me to the barn and got some general pix of the milking process.

I have a permanent loop on the hobble rope. This way I can slip the rope through the loop, then around Maggie's leg. This means the hobble stays loose enough on her leg not to be uncomfortable, but if she pulls at it, it tightens.

I thread the other end of the rope through the eye-bolt on the post and make a slip knot. That way, if I have to release her leg quickly, I just yank the tail of the rope and the knot comes out.

It's normal for cows to shift position while in the milking stall. The slip makes it easy to readjust how "hobbled" Maggie is as the milking progresses. You don't want to make a hobble so short that the cow is immobilized, because she'll panic. It should only be short enough to keep her from kicking over the milk bucket, or kicking the milker (me!).

The very first thing to do before starting to milk (after hobbling, of course) is to wash the udder. For obvious reasons, this is very important. It's not always this bad, but this morning was a doozy.

I use two buckets for milking. I milk directly into the smaller one...

...and then, when I've accumulated an inch of milk or so of milk, I pour it into the larger bucket behind me.

This system serves two purposes. One, if the cow kicks the bucket over, I haven't lost all the milk. And two, the larger bucket is far enough away that if Maggie urinates, nothing splashes into the milk.

When I'm done milking, I cap the clean milk with a bowl cover before I release the animals.

Then it's time for Stormy to get her own breakfast. By the way, to forestall any questions, once-a-day milking means the cow adjusts her output for two "calves" (I'm the other "calf"), so Stormy is not deprived of any of the food or nutrients she needs.

After I come back to the house with the milk, I strain it through a double layer of thin cotton cloth and chill the milk. (I boil the cloth each day to sanitize it.) Then I scrub and sanitize the buckets and upend them to air-dry until the next day.

And that's all there is to it! Ta da!

Milking Maggie

This is a long post, so grab a cup of tea and follow our adventures as we train Maggie to be a milk cow.

Ever since little Stormy's unexpectedly early birth, Don has been slamming to build the calf pen and milking stall.

In the photo below, you can see the milking stall on the left, with the adjustable head-gate at the end. In the back-right is the calf pen, and in the front-right is the ... I dunno what to call it, the outer pen? ... where I'll sit on a crate and milk.

After this initial set-up was complete, we spent about a week training Maggie to come into the milking stall and put her head through the head-gate for grain. We also encouraged Stormy to go into the calf pen, but didn't close the gate. In other words, we just let the animals get used to things without pressure.

Here's Maggie's grain bucket in the little alcove on the other side of the head-gate.

Meanwhile, since we had removed the barn mats while building the infrastructure, we cut the mats to fit the new pens so Stormy wouldn't be on concrete while confined. We didn't put a mat in the milking stall, though, so it has a concrete floor for easier cleaning.

The one issue we hadn't resolved what what to do when Maggie urinated or defecated while in the milking stall. This may sound trivial or silly, but in fact it's a serious consideration for both sanitation (for the milk) and comfort (for me). In previous milking situations, we always had gravel or dirt floors, which meant most of the time it was no big deal. This is the first time I would be milking on concrete, and I knew things were likely to splash.

We tossed around a number of ideas: An elevated platform with a grate and a "litter box" underneath? A tub partly filled with sawdust placed right behind Maggie's legs?

Neither seemed ideal, but we couldn't think of anything else.

With that issue unresolved, the evening finally came when we planned to confine the calf for the first time so I could milk Maggie the following morning. I was a jittery bundle of nerves because first times are always stressful for bovines and humans alike.

At first we thought we would confine both the calf (to the pen) and Maggie (inside the barn) each night, similar to what we did just after Stormy was born and the weather was so rainy. After a great deal of effort, we got the calf in the pen...

...and Maggie in the barn with the doors shut.

To say this first attempt was a failure is to engage in the drollest understatement. Maggie had full access to the milking stall, and the calf desperately tried to climb through the head-gate of the stall to get to her mama. It was impossibly unsafe to leave them in the barn for the night. So, literally thirty seconds after everyone was confined, we released them again.

Back to Square One. Well, Square Two. Don got busy making extra security. He made a solid gate inside the calf pen to block off the little alcove where the grain bucket was (the little spot in the upper-left corner of the diagram below).

This gate could be closed and latched, so we still have access to the space but the calf doesn't.

Then he made a solid gate (on the left) to block off access to the milking stall. He also reinforced the strength of the outer pen gate (right).

Okay. Phew. A few days later, with all these reinforcements in place, we tried once again to tuck the calf away for the night, though this time we didn't try to confine Maggie to the barn.

We started the process, as usual, by giving Maggie her grain. (Notice the heavy-duty crossbeam separating the milking stall from the outer pen. That comes into the story later on.)

While Maggie was engaged with the grain, we were able to scoot Stormy into the calf pen. And then the fun began!

Maggie was mooing in distress at being separated from her calf. Mignon and Romeo came in to offer moral support.

It quickly became apparent that the milking stall gate was too low. Obviously the calf couldn't reach it, but Maggie was leaning over it, and I was afraid she would hurt herself trying to reach her baby. So I asked Don to hastily screw in a board blocking the upper portion for extra security.

I lingered in the barn for about half an hour, just to make sure nothing went amiss. Fortunately the increased security of the infrastructure held, and eventually everyone calmed down. The calf laid down in her pen and Maggie wandered off to graze. Once full darkness fell, there wasn't even very much bellowing from either Maggie or Stormy through the night.

Both Don and I were up verrrry early the next morning. He planned to assist me during the first couple days of milking. I deliberately didn't bring my camera since I knew I would be far too stressed and busy to take photos.

Armed with buckets, we went into the barn, got Maggie into the milking stall with some grain, and I sat down to milk.

Immediately we knew additional changes would have to be made. The hobble rope we used to secure Maggie's back leg to the post was insufficient, and she kicked it off with one attempt. (Hobbling a back leg is necessary to prevent the milker from being kicked in the head, either accidentally or deliberately. Ask me how I know.) We placed a tub with sawdust behind her in case she urinated, but she promptly kicked it away.

I started milking, and Maggie didn't know what to think of this. Remember, all this was absolutely new to her. She may have been feeling relief, as her udder was full; but she was restless and nervous, and I was overly cautious and tense.

At one point Maggie made a sudden move, and I jumped up from the milking crate and CRACKED my head against that crossbeam above me. I staggered around for a few moments in agony and had an impressive lump for a day or so. Whee, what fun!

Anyway, even with all the chaos, I managed to get three-quarters of a gallon of milk before calling it quits. We released Maggie, released the calf, and Don and I stumbled into the house where we collapsed in chairs, drinking the tea/coffee we hadn't had a chance to have earlier.

After we calmed down, we assessed what went right and what went wrong. We determined the reason I cracked my head was because I was underneath the crossbeam rather than on the other side of it; and the reason I was underneath it was because Maggie was too far over in the stall. In other words, the milking stall was too wide. We would have to insert a spacer to push her closer to me, so I could milk her without being directly under the crossbeam.

We reworked a number of issues. Don installed a permanent higher board across the milking-stall gate.

I got a stouter rope and used a simple slip-knot around Maggie's back leg.

The rope is slipped through an eye-bolt for security, although I use a quick-release knot just in case.

The whole urination/defecation thing was easy-peasy to solve. On the second morning of milking, Don spontaneously shoveled a small pile of sawdust behind Maggie's back feet ... and it worked! This is the same sawdust I had been using for months to sprinkle on the barn floor to absorb urine, after which it could be easily raked up and put on the compost pile. Why we tried to overly complicate this issue is anyone's guess.

Don came out with me on the second morning to assist if necessary, but since milking is my task, I asked him just to be on standby in case I needed help.

The second morning went 100% more smoothly. Maggie stayed calm. Stormy stayed calm. I was very careful not to crack my head on the crossbeam, especially since we hadn't yet installed a spacer to push her body closer to me. In fact, Don left halfway through the milking because I didn't need him for any assistance. I milked out 1.5 gallons, released Maggie's hobble tie, opened the head-gate, let Stormy out of her pen, and voilà. Absolutely night and day from the first challenging milking.

It should be noted that start-up chaos like this is perfectly normal, especially for a cow's first time. I knew both Maggie and Stormy would soon settle into a routine and learn what was expected of them.

And so it proved. I've been milking for several days now, getting about 1.5 gallons each day, and everything has gone so smoothly that Don doesn't need to accompany me to the barn.

We still had some improvements to make, however, notably installing a spacer in the milking stall. We had an oversized pallet that was the perfect size, so we secured it in place.

Because we felt the edge of the pallet was too sharp, Don trimmed and installed a piece of foam pipe insulation to the corner.

And, because there was a length of insulation left over, I slipped it over the crossbeam. Y'know, just in case.

The spacer worked. I'm able to milk much more comfortably without having to crouch my way under the crossbeam to reach Maggie's udder.

So that's been our adventures over the past couple of weeks. Maggie is now trained to milk, and we're starting to work with Stormy to lead-train her. Now I have to get back into dairy mode since we're swimming in milk.

Stormy weather

Our still-unnamed newborn calf has certainly had a baptism by fire. Well, water.

The huge rainstorm we were predicting Saturday night into Sunday kinda fizzled out. We checked the calf Sunday morning and she was fine, so we opened gates and let Maggie and her baby out to explore the driveway area. I should note that Sunday afternoon was supposed to be dry.

The calf got drenched in a few squalls as she followed Maggie around...

...including a brief but rather intense hail storm.

Later, we noticed the baby curled up near a brush pile while Maggie wandered off to eat.

Nothing unusual about this. Newborn calves normally curl up in obscure locations while their mothers linger nearby. Since we could see the calf from the house window, we kept an eye on her.

A squall came through, dropped some rain, and moved on.

Another squall came through, dropped some rain, and moved on.

And another.

And another.

And another.

And another. What happened to dry weather?

"I don't think that poor baby's been dry since birth," Don remarked at one point. This is when the calf was barely 24 hours old.

(Calf's viewpoint: "All I know about the world is that it's always wet.")

Another squall came and went. At one point, between cloudbursts, I went out to clean the barn. Since the barn has a metal roof, the noise of yet another passing squall was deafening.

It was at this point that Don came into the barn and nearly had to shout over the noise of the rain. He said he went to check the baby, since she hadn't moved in several hours, and he was concerned because she seemed listless. We knew we had to get her under cover.

This was easier said than done. (Most things on a homestead are easier said than done.) I had already pitched a small pile of hay in one of the barn corners in hope the calf would curl up on it. The difficulty wasn't getting Maggie or her baby into the barn; the difficulty was keeping them there, especially through these endless torrential squalls that kept hitting us.

The barn doors swing open, and since we seldom close them, they tend to get jammed in an open position over time. So we had to dig out the doors in the muck and mud. Then, since we planned to keep Maggie indoors with her baby, we needed to get a tub of water inside too. This tub hadn't been used for a while, so we had to hose it clean, then drag it inside, then find a hose long enough to fill it.

When everything was ready, I located a tiny halter and tied a rope to it. Don was right; the baby was listless and shivering. I suggested getting the Gorilla cart once again to transport her into the barn, since we're past the age where we relish carrying a wiggling 50-pound newborn calf uphill in the rain. The two of us managed to hoist the baby inside the cart, and started pushing her toward the barn.

In case you're wondering where Maggie was through all this, the answer was waaay down in a pasture, happily grazing. Eh, new mom. She isn't fully aware of her responsibilities yet.

We finally got the calf into the barn and out of the cart (at which point the halter also slipped off her head; we might need to purchase a smaller halter). But at least she was under cover. Don toweled her off and got her as dry as possible.

By this point Maggie had figured out that we were messing with her calf, so she was bellowing at a gate just outside the barn door. It was fairly easy to get her inside with her baby. We closed them in and left them alone for a bit to relax.

I went out after an hour or so (and a couple more squalls) and saw the calf was, indeed, lying on the pile of hay. That was a nice sight.

Maggie was resting by the feed box on the other end.

The calf soon got to her feet and went to see her mama. Her shivering had stopped and her movements were strong, so we think she'll be fine. Guess who's staying locked up until the rain passes?

But all these shenanigans with rain squalls and torrential downpours inspired Don to come up with the perfect name for the new baby.

Stormy.