Breeding time

It's that time of year: Breeding time via AI (Artificial Insemination) for our Jersey cow Maggie.

But wait, there's more. After much discussion, we decided to breed Maggie's yearling heifer calf Stormy as well.

Stormy is half-Jersey, half-Angus. She looks very much like an Angus, but she has a lot of Maggie's sweet Jersey disposition. And she's big, bigger than her mama.

Here's a comparison between a Jersey's boney butt and a half-Angus' meaty butt. You can tell which one is bred for milk and which one for meat!

You can also see that Stormy is now taller than her mama.

In fact, it is because of Stormy's sweet disposition that we decided to keep her as a breeder rather than putting her in the freezer and raising another animal for meat. This means Maggie is now the mother of our dairy line, and Stormy will become the mother of our meat line.

Before we could be certain we could breed Stormy, however, we needed to make sure she was able to be handled. She's never been lead-trained and had never worn a halter. If we could get a halter on her, the chances were good she could get bred. If she was too wild, well ... we had space in the freezer.

Getting a halter on Stormy took a couple weeks of strategizing. We prefer to use chain halters (sometimes called restraint halters) on our animals. We've always handled Stormy a lot – scratching her, brushing her, giving her a bit of grain here and there – so we ramped up these efforts during this time. That part was easy since it's nothing we hadn't done before.

Meanwhile Don prepared a stout rope to temporarily confine her. This was set up with a clip that could be adjusted so we could slip the rope over Stormy's head and a slip-knot would tighten the rope, but the clip would prevent the rope from getting too tight and choking her. The idea was to get the rope around her neck, then thread the other end of the rope through an eye-bolt that was already in place on the barn beam. This would, in theory, confine her tightly enough that I could get the halter on her.

The evening came when we went out to the barn, got Maggie and little Lucy outside, and confined Stormy inside. Right away, of course, Stormy knew something was up.

Getting the rope around her neck was easy enough, but every time Don tried to thread the other end of the rope through the eye-bolt, she would yank it out. Finally, more by accident than anything else, we got her cornered against a side of the barn (cows become more or less immobilized when pressed against a wall), and I was able to slip the halter over her head and buckle it on.

Right away we released her, removed the rope, and gave her a lot of fuss and attention, scratches and brushing. Fussing didn't mitigate the indignity of being haltered. She did not like that ropey thing on her face, that's for sure, and sulked about it for a day or two until she got used to it. But get used to it she did, and quickly recovered her normal sweet disposition.

In fact, a funny thing happened. After being haltered, Stormy became our new best friend whenever Don or I were in the barn or corral. She nudged us (sometimes hard) for affection, she submitted to brushing and scratches like never before, and she started leading with a lead-rope with very little effort. She became so affectionate that we started calling her Princess.

At this point, I emailed the AI lady (her name is Andrea) to inquire whether Stormy could simply be tied up while being bred, or whether it was necessary for the heifer to be confined to the milking stall.

Andrea said it was essential that Stormy be confined. During breeding, Andrea would have her arm inserted literally shoulder-deep in Stormy's backside, and the last thing she (Andrea) needed was a broken arm if Stormy got testy. Fair enough.

After this, we started training Princess Stormy to go into the milking stall.

We already knew the head gate wouldn't work for Stormy – her neck is much thicker than Maggie's more slender Jersey neck – but we had an eye-bolt already installed on the opposite beam that we could use to thread a lead rope clipped to her halter and confine her that way.

But that was in the future. First Stormy had to get used to being in the milking stall without feeling panicky.

This was actually easier to accomplish than we anticipated. Stormy spent the first nine months of her life spending the night in the adjacent calf pen, so that whole milking-stall infrastructure already held warm, fuzzy memories for her. In fact, even now we have to keep the calf pen gate closed when Stormy is around, because she'll make a beeline for the calf pen even though she has massively outgrown the space.

Our morning and evening routines became as follows. Don would go into the small space behind the milking stall where the bucket stand was located (this is where Maggie puts her head to eat grain in the mornings when I milk her) with a bucket of grain. I clipped Stormy's halter chain to the lead rope and gently pulled her toward the milking stall, where Don waved the grain enticingly at the other end. Once she was in the stall eating the grain, we made no effort to confine her in any way, though I did scratch and brush her rear end so she would get used to activity back there. When Stormy was finished with her grain, we let her back herself out on her own terms.

This training period was extremely effective. Once or twice Don threaded the lead rope through the eye-bolt just to get Stormy used to being tied up in place, and while she fought it a little bit in a half-hearted sort of way, overall she didn't seem to mind.

Meanwhile the clock was ticking down to when Andrea was planning to come out for the first stage of breeding the animals, which involved estrus synchronization protocols so both Maggie and Stormy could be bred at the same time. This meant giving the animals a shot of prostaglandin as well as inserting a controlled internal drug release (CIDR) device to regulate the estrous cycle.

This took a bit of calculating on Andrea's part. She was traveling from about an hour's drive away, and had to time her first visit with when her second visit would be necessary. In other words, unless we wanted her to breed the animals at midnight, she had to backtrack and time the beginning of the estrus synchronization protocol at a specific hour. (As it turned out, we had to juggle this schedule a bit because a cow's estrus and a heifer's estrus run at slightly different times.)

Andrea arrived on the evening of August 31 to start the process.You can see how suspicious Stormy looks at all the activity.

Beginning with Stormy, we pulled her into the milking stall, gave her some grain, and threaded the end of the lead-rope through the eye-bolt to confine her. Stormy was nervous at Andrea's presence, but what really set her off was when Andrea gave Stormy the prostaglandin shot in the neck. She didn't like that one bit!

She thrashed around a bit, but Don held onto the lead rope grimly, and Stormy really couldn't move much anyway within the confines of the milking stall. Andrea was able to insert the vaginal CIDR device without any problem.

After this, Don unclipped the lead rope from Stormy's halter to release her, and the heifer backed out of the milking stall with alacrity.

Then it was Maggie's turn. Piece o' cake. She barely even twitched at the prostaglandin shot in the neck...

...much less when the CIDR device was inserted. Good ol' Maggie.

Andrea gave us two doses of gonadotropin-releasing hormone (GnRH), to be administered to both animals on Day Seven after the prostaglandin shots. We had to make sure these shots were given at exactly the same time of evening as the first shots.

To this end, we made sure to continue giving Stormy another calming week of milking-stall practice, which she did without a problem. However when it came time to give Stormy the GnRH shot in the neck, she thrashed around and bend the needle before the GnRH could be administered. Fortunately we had spare needles (and even more fortunately, knew exactly where they were), so we swapped needles and were able to administer the shot successfully. I also pulled out the CIDR device, which was easy.

Maggie, as before, barely noticed the shot or the removal of the CIDR device.

Now the stage was set for the actual breeding itself. Andrea actually had to come out at two separate times because of the slight difference in estrus cycles between cows and heifers. This added to the cost of the breeding since the most expensive component was the per-mileage travel costs, but oh well.

For breeding Stormy, Andrea had to come over after dark (about 7:30-ish). Since the barn light doesn't shine very well into the livestock side of the gate, much less in the milking stall where Andrea needed to see, Don rigged up a portable halogen shop light and aimed it at the opposite wall, so it would reflect back and provide Andrea with light without blinding her.

Andrea had a number of different straws of semen from which we could choose, stored in a vat of liquid nitrogen. This is the vat.

Inside the vat are holders at the end of rods which hold the straws of frozen semen.

Andrea stocks a variety of beef and dairy breed options.

She required warm water (101F) to thaw the semen before loading it into the insemination gun.

Since this is Stormy's first calf and we wanted to avoid any birthing difficulties, we opted to breed her to a smaller breed. We also wanted her to have a beefy calf we could eventually put in the freezer. Of the available semen Andrea had in stock, we opted for a smaller lowline Angus to breed to Stormy. We also opted not to select the gender of the calf.

Prepping the straw and all the necessary accouterments for the actual breeding took about ten minutes. Don was holding onto Stormy in the stall, who had long since finished her grain and was getting restive. But finally Andrea came in with the straw, ready to breed Stormy.

Sorry if the next bit gets somewhat graphic.

The first thing Andrea did was to don a shoulder-length disposal plastic glove and insert her arm waaaay up Stormy's rectum, feeling around the various organs through the rectal wall. Apparently this technique is used to immobilize the cervix through the rectum. When this was accomplished, Andrea took the insemination gun (pre-loaded with the semen) and inserted it into Stormy's vaginal opening. She had to guide the gun through the vaginal canal into the cervix, which she did by rectal palpation and manipulation through the reproductive tract.

It's hard to se what's going on in the photo below, but the large light-colored thingy at top is Andrea's gloved left arm deep inside Stormy's rectum. Her gloved right hand is guiding the insemination gun up the vaginal tract toward the cervix.

I expected Stormy to be having a hissy fit at this indignity, but in fact she was very calm. Andrea explained that's why this narrow window of a cow's estrus cycle – when they are most receptive to fertilization – is called "standing heat." Cows literally stand still during the breeding process, whether natural or artificial.

This process was actually accomplished fairly quickly. Andrea clearly knew what she was going and got the task done confidently and efficiently. As soon as she was finished, she withdrew her arm as well as the insemination gun, Don unclipped Stormy's halter to release her, and the heifer backed out of the milking stall. Voilà.

That was all Andrea could do that evening. Despite Andrea's competence, Don and I were wiped by the time we staggered back to the house. "Yup, a little shot of whiskey, I think," said Don, one of the very rare times in the last twenty years he's drank anything. He mixed a finger of whiskey with some soda and settled in for the night.

Early the next morning (around 8:30 am), Andrea repeated the process with Maggie. As predicted, this was easier, in part due to Maggie's calmer nature and in part because we knew not to confine Maggie to the milking stall until Andrea had finished prepping the semen and loading the insemination gun.

For Maggie, we chose to breed her to a polled A2/A2 New Zealand bull named Ardachie Zigzag. We also opted to select the gender and chose a heifer. This costs a bit more, but almost guarantees the results.

While shoulder-deep in Maggie's rectal tract, Andrea had a bit of trouble getting the tip of the insemination gun into Maggie's cervix (something having to do with the boniness of Jerseys in general), but at last she succeeded. She did say that should Maggie's breeding not "take," she would come out and re-breed her without any additional cost.

Lucy: "What are you doing to my mom?

Stormy: "What are you doing to my mom?"

And that was that. Stormy was bred on the evening of Sept. 9, and Maggie on the morning of Sept. 10. Both should calve around June 15 of next year.

Despite the hassle of training Stormy and the cost of the breeding, we're very satisfied with the precision and specificity of artificial insemination, particularly since we no longer have the space, infrastructure, interest, or need to keep a bull.

Maggie's calves will be sold as milkers as they get older, and Stormy's calves will go in the freezer when the time comes. In this manner, we will be set for dairy and beef for the foreseeable future.

Looks like Maggie's breeding "took"!

A bit over three weeks ago, we had Maggie (our Jersey cow) bred by artificial insemination.

The AI expert, Andrea, said to watch for signs of heat on Sept 29, which would be three weeks later, since that's the length of a cow's cycle.

Well, Monday the 29th came and went, and there were absolutely no signs Maggie was in heat. In contrast, Mignon, our yearling heifer, was in heat last week, and boy did we know it. Not least, Romeo was all over her (even though he's a steer).

But with Maggie ... pffff. Nothing. Therefore it looks like we can expect a happy event in mid to late June of next year.

Cow matters

We needed to take care of a number of cow-related chores before I leave for Portland.

The most important thing was to castrate Chester, our bull calf. Chester is our meat-on-the-hoof, and we normally butcher around two years of age. But his lifespan will be considerably shorter if we don't castrate him, since we won't tolerate another bull on the place. Bulls can become active by about nine or ten months of age, and once they "discover girls" their disposition and temperament goes down the toilet. Hence the need to turn Chester into a steer.

But Chester has been a wiley little boy and evaded our every attempt to pen him. To be fair to Chester, however, the failed attempts were due to our "operator errors," such as not making sure the opposite gate is latched before pushing him through the first gate into a pen. Et cetera.

Anyway, all systems were go on Saturday when we got Chester cornered in a stall.

To castrate, we use an emasculator, sometimes called a bander. This handy and inexpensive little device is nothing more than a gizmo that spreads a tight rubber band over the top of the calf's testicles. It takes literally five minutes or less.

The rubber band is slipped over the prongs...

...and then when the handle is squeezed, the band opens wide.

This band is slipped over the top of the testicles and then the tool is removed, after which the band tightens and deprives the testicles of their blood supply. They whither and dry up within a couple of weeks, and eventually drop off. While somewhat uncomfortable, it's painless. If you've seen the way vets castrate -- throw a calf on his side, slice open the scrotum, clip out the testicles -- all without anesthesia, you'll understand why we prefer this bloodless method.

The challenging part, obviously, is getting the calf's cooperation.

Bull calves can't be castrated until they're at least a few days old, once the testicles have a chance to descend. But little Chester is now about five weeks old, and has some kick in him. Don tied a rope around his neck. (Since the pen is kinda dark, the camera flash is on, which reveals all sorts of dust on the camera lens -- sorry about that.)

Chester was understandably suspicious about our intentions, but fortunately he didn't struggle too hard.

Nonetheless he required two people to hold him. Don grabbed his back quarters then held onto one leg, while Older Daughter stood by to secure the second leg.

After this things got a bit too intense to take photos, so Younger Daughter (who was operating the camera) couldn't get any shots of the actual process. But Don and Older Daughter gently hefted Chester's hind legs off the ground, while I slipped his testicles through the band. It's kinda hard to get the band off the bander, but after one or two attempts I succeeded.

I'm a little concerned that I didn't get the band high enough on his scrotum. A few years ago we had a bull calf we emasculated in the pasture while trying to fend off an angry cow with horns. It was a rodeo, and we learned later that the banding didn't "take." There was juuuust enough testicle left that the calf grew into a nasty-tempered quasi-bull. We were glad to put him in the freezer.

Anyway, after this procedure we immediately let Chester rejoin the herd. He didn't appear to suffer any ill-effects from the operation.

Nonetheless I find myself peering at his nether regions whenever possible. It appears he's banded correctly, so for the time being we won't worry about him and will hope for the best.

The next chore to accomplish was to put a tractor tire into the bull pen to act as a feeder. We've just been feeding Samson and his pen mate Shadow over the fence into their shed, but the old hay is starting to get piled too deep; and until we have a chance to clean their shed, no sense adding more to the pile. A tractor tire will work fine as a feeder until rainy weather comes in the fall.

So, using our neighbor's borrowed tractor, we heaved one of the smaller tractor tires close to the bull pen.

Don cut out the sidewall...

...then we chained it to the tractor bucket and lifted it over the fence into the pen.

It landed upside down (naturally). Samson immediately came over to sniff this new thing.

So, armed with stout poles, we went into the pen to flip the tire over and adjust it where we wanted. Any work inside the bull pen is a two-person operation: one person to do the work, the other person to keep the bull at bay (hence the stout poles). It's not that Samson is mean, it's that he's a bull. We never let ourselves forget that.

Once the tire was flipped over, we filled it with hay for their evening meal.

The next cow issue to address was getting a neighbor's cow in with our bull so he could breed her.

This neighbor has an Angus cow, and since we have the only bull in the neighborhood we're happy to let Samson breed her. So early Sunday morning he came over with the cow in his horse trailer, which he expertly backed up to the barn.

The cow, whose name is Cowbella, made a lot of noise during this process.

This brought ALL of our animals up from the pasture. ALL of 'em. Our fault, we forgot to close the gate to keep them down. I blame it on the early hour.

The last thing we needed was seventeen animals milling around as we're trying to get Cowbella in with the bull, as well as trying to get Shadow out. Since Cowbella is going to be Samson's pen mate for at least a month (through two heat cycles to ensure she gets bred), no sense keeping Shadow locked up with him any longer.

Anyway, I trotted toward the pasture gate and gave the universal "Bossy bossy bossy bossy BOSSY!" call. With Don bringing up the rear, rather to our surprise everyone obediently headed back into the pasture. I made sure to close the gate after them.

Then we could turn our attention to Samson and Shadow. We needed to shoo Shadow out while keeping Samson in. This proved challenging, but successful in the end. Then our neighbor released Cowbella, and she trotted right into the bull pen with very little persuasion. Here Samson gives her a greeting kiss (unfortunately Cowbella was blocked by a tree because otherwise it was a sweet moment).

But of course the part he was really interested in was at the other end, the lech.

With Samson dancing attendance, Cowbella quickly settled in. She's an Angus, and as such is significantly bigger than Samson, who is a Dexter. However we've learned not to worry about the mechanics of small bulls breeding larger cows.

Where there's a will there's a way. Ahem.

When nature wins

I've had a nightmare of a day.

It started early this morning when I heard Matilda, our Jersey cow, bellowing. She didn't stop either. "What's the matter, she lose her calf?" I kept asking, but the calf was always within easy sight.

The problem became abundantly clear when we saw Gimli, our bull, who should NOT be on this side of the fence. But he was. (Fences, take note, are largely decorative.) And Gimli was dancing such close attendance on Matilda that it was clear our dear girl was in heat.

Unlike the subtle heat cycles of our Dexters, when a Jersey's in heat you know it. They bellow fit to kill. And in such a state, Gimli thought Matilda was the sexiest thing this side of...well, the fence.

But it's the wrong time of year for her to breed. A cow's gestation is 9 months, 10 days. That would put the birth squarely in the middle of next February. We got lucky this year with Pearly's birth because we've had a mild winter, but undoubtedly we won't be so lucky again.

So we had to keep them apart. Ha. Correction -- **I** had to keep them apart, because Don had to be away for the day. Double ha.

To make things more exciting, our ten-month-old bull calf Beefy suddenly "discovered girls." Beefy is a short-legged Dexter which puts him about the same size as Pearly right now, though he is, of course...well, beefier. The size difference between he and Matilda is laughable - but he wasn't about to let a little thing like logistics stop him.

Normally Gimli is very tolerant of Beefy. In fact, the two are best buds. But not when there's a sexy hot cow in the area! And for some reason, Matilda was showing a distinct preference for Beefy. Oh joy.

I started by pulling Matilda into her milking stall and slamming the door shut against Gimli's eager escort. He bellowed and paced and went into the barn adjacent to her stall. Hey bingo, problem solved! I locked him in and milked Matilda. Make a note: cows don't give a lot of milk during their heat cycles. I came away with barely a pint, then let Matilda out.

Well, Gimli's confinement lasted a couple hours until he found he could force aside a weak part in the barn wall and get into the woods again. Soon he had hopped the fence and was back with his lady love.

Okay, so I locked Matilda into her milking stall again, this time for much of the day. This worked, but it left a bull on the loose who wasn't about to cooperate and go meekly back into the wooded side of the fence.

The complications with Beefy, however young and small he is, were such that in frustration I called Potlatch Pack (the local mobile butchering service) and made a date on May 10 to put Beefy in the freezer. Can't have TWO bulls around the place.

The neighbor kids wanted to come over, so I told them I'd meet them at the fence and escort them into the house, which I did. Later the girls wanted to go over to the boys' house, so again I escorted everyone to the fence and ordered the girls to call me before they came home. Can't take chances with a horny bull.

By mid-afternoon, I had a splitting headache, compounded by the constant bellowing between Gimli and Matilda, with a few bleats thrown in by Beefy and Pearly. I needed to clean Matilda's stall and get her some fresh water and food, but couldn't do it with Gimli in constant attendance. So I pulled Matilda into the barn adjacent to her stall and let Gimli sniff her over the boards from the hay side.

Big mistake. I thought he was going to jump (climb?) over the five-foot-high boards to get at her. Hastily I pulled Matilda back into her dirty stall and let Gimli into the barn and locked him there. I knew I didn't have long before he escaped, but at least I could release Matilda long enough to clean her stall. Musical cows, anyone?

And oh my, wasn't Beefy pleased about this arrangement! Here's this sexy thing all to himself, without Gimli chasing him off! He was on her hammer and tongs - as I said, the size difference is laughable, but I'll give him credit for trying.

Meanwhile with Gimli bellowing his sexual frustration in my ear and huffing at the loose part of the barn wall, I hastily cleaned Matilda's stall. Soon I heard the crashing noise that indicated Gimli was out of the barn into the woods, and knew I had about two minutes to get Matilda back into her stall before Lover Boy came dashing over the fence. (Remember, fences are merely decorative - especially when hormones are concerned.) I didn't have food or water in the stall yet, but at least the floor was clean.

So I grabbed a lead rope, ran over to Matilda (who wasn't pleased to see me) and clipped it to her halter. And then I pulled and dragged and tugged and dragged some more because hey, she didn't want to give up the attentions of Beefy (who, believe me, was mounting with great enthusiasm) without a fight. I was able to finally get her into her stall and chase Beefy out just as Gimli came pounding up.

Slamming doors left and right and grabbing the pitchfork in defense while Gimli paced outside her door and bellowed, I did the kids' barn chores - filling the water tank and feeding and watering the chickens - because I didn't want them out with Gimli. It's not that he was out to "get" anyone - Dexter bulls are actually quite sweet-tempered - but we can't forget he's still a bull and is therefore unpredictable, especially in his sexually-charged state.

By this time Younger Daughter was ready to come home, so I met her at the neighbor's fence with a pitchfork and escorted her to the house. I also told the dogs they weren't getting a walk that night.

I was exhausted and the headache was worse, so I finally called my husband and said, "How do you feel about just letting Gimli have his way with Matilda and giving her a shot of Lutalyse later on?" Lutalyse is an abortant and we sometimes use it to abort an ill-timed pregnancy in our cows.

He agreed this was the most prudent course of action, and with no small amount of relief (for ALL parties concerned) I let Matilda out of her stall and let the boys have her.

We REALLY need to build a bull pen.

What's that you say about living the "simple" life? Okay, quit laughing.



Beefy thinks it's worth a shot.


Gimli disagrees and chases him off.


Ah, sweet hormones!


Notice Beefy (nuzzling Matilda) isn't a whole lot bigger than Pearly (red calf on left).


Beefy hasn't quite caught on yet...


...which doesn't keep Matilda from showing her preference.


But at least Gimli knows which end is which.