Weaning Romeo

Our steer calf, Romeo, is now almost seven months old. He was born on Valentine's Day (hence his name) and we steered him when he was about ten days old.

He's a sweet-natured little boy and lets us pet and scratch him without a problem. As you'll see, this turned out to be a good thing.

When we butchered his mama, Filet, we timed it so Romeo would be old enough to wean without a problem. After Filet disappeared from his life, we monitored Romeo carefully to make sure he wouldn't be unduly distressed. As it turned out, he seemed to barely even miss her, go figure.

Part of this is because he rapidly discovered Maggie is a "universal donor" (i.e., very generous with her milk). Romeo started aggressively draining Maggie dry, even depriving her calf Stormy of milk (and Stormy is too young to wean). When I tried milking, I got practically nothing. We had to do something.

One of our fall projects is to build an awning on the back side of the barn to offer the cows more shelter during the winter. Under this awning, we could conceivably build a pen into which we could lock Romeo at night, thus allowing Maggie to "recharge" her milk supply overnight so I could milk in the morning.

There were two things wrong with this plan. One, it would take weeks to complete the project, which meant I wouldn't be able to milk during this interim. And two, if I resumed milking Maggie after locking away Romeo at night, it would mean she was providing milk for three "calves" (Stormy, Romeo, and me). That is too much to ask of a young first-time cow. (Cows give more milk with each succeeding calf.)

So we were stymied on how to keep Romeo away from Maggie without going to the extreme length of keeping him in a separate pasture. Meanwhile, I wasn't able to milk Maggie.

Then something interesting happened. We had arranged for an AI (artificial insemination) expert named Andrea to come out and breed Maggie for us. (Last year, we bred her to a neighbor's young bull, but they no longer have him.) Breeding Maggie by AI meant we could select the sire. This is a whole blog post unto itself, which I'll put up in the future.

But in passing, we mentioned to Andrea our frustrations with Romeo's persistent nursing. Andrea asked us why we didn't use a weaning ring.

A weaning ring? What's that?

What followed was a completely new chapter in our bovine education. We've owned cows since 1998 and, literally, we've never even caught wind of a weaning ring.

Essentially it's a gizmo that is inserted into a calf's nostrils and tightened on the septum. The weaner prevents the calf from being able to reach the cow's teats, but it in no way hinders it from eating. Additionally, the weaner is armed with really sharp spikes. The moment the cows gets poked with these spikes, she kicks the calf away.

Enthused, we immediately ordered one. (Actually, we ordered half a dozen for ten bucks. Don found a deal.)

Ours came in fluorescent orange, presumably the better to see it if it falls off in a pasture somewhere. There is a wing nut that tightens the unit into the septum.

Following the advice on a YouTube video on how to insert the ring, Don filed down any sharp bits on the two sides that would be pressed against the calf's septum so as not to cause irritation. Additionally, he filed down a bit of the points on the spikes, because let me tell you those things are sharp! We didn't want Maggie's udder damaged or pierced should Romeo attack it too vigorously.

During the time it took for the weaning rings to arrive, we strategized how best to confine Romeo to get it inserted into his nose. This is where his sweet nature asserted itself. What we ended up doing was looping a rope around his neck (with a check on it so it wouldn't tighten and strangle him), threaded the other end of the rope through a stout eye-bolt on a barn upright post, and gently drew Romeo in until he was positioned horizontal to the barn wall. When he was in the right position, Don secured the rope and I pressed him flat against the wall. (Cows, when pressed flat against a wall, don't struggle too much.)

Don carefully inserted the nose ring into Romeo's nostrils and gently tightened the wing nut until it wouldn't fall out. (The dear boy held perfectly still for this.) Then we released him and made a big fuss over him, brushing and petting him. While clearly he didn't appreciate having something shoved inside his nose, it didn't seem to bother him too much.

I planned not to milk the next morning, wanting to give Maggie a day or two to recover, and it's a good thing since the nose ring fell off overnight. That evening, we repeated the process of roping and confining Romeo, and Don tightened the ring tighter over the septum (again, Romeo held perfectly still). This time it held.

The poor kid looks like he has fluorescent-orange snot hanging from his nose. A couple days ago, a neighbor told us she burst out laughing the first time she saw it.

We monitored Romeo closely for the first couple of days, since we wanted to make sure the ring didn't interfere with eating or drinking. It didn't hinder him at all. Here he's drinking from the water tank:

He's having no trouble grazing or eating dry hay.

And by golly, this gizmo works. Romeo hasn't been able to nurse even once since he started wearing it. Maggie kicks him off each time he tries, even when he tries to be gentle and sneaky. He simply can't get the teat into his mouth, and the spikes poke Maggie's udder.

So I've been getting milk again, and Stormy has been nursing avidly, possibly making up for lost time.

Interestingly, since installing the nose ring on Romeo, the first few minutes after I release Maggie from the milking stall have been chaotic. Stormy goes diving for her mother to get breakfast. Romeo also dives for Maggie to nurse, but because his nose ring pokes her whenever he tries, she kicks him off. The three animals (Maggie and both calves) are caught up in this spinning maelstrom, with Maggie circling around to evade Romeo, Romeo spinning to try to connect with Maggie, and Stormy desperately trying to hang onto a teat. I've learned to keep away from this scene until Romeo gives up and everyone settles down (which takes just a minute or two) lest I get kicked or slammed.

This morning, after I released Maggie from the milking stall and then released Stormy from the calf pen, it's the first time I've observed Romeo not even try to go for Maggie's udder.

Opinions vary as to how long a weaning ring should stay on the calf, from a minimum of three weeks to longer. Personally I'm inclined to keep it on for a firm six weeks, but we'll see if it's necessary.

A weaning ring. Will wonders never cease.

Cow in the freezer and milking woes

Early in the morning on August 18, a mobile butcher came in and dispatched Filet, our eight-year-old Angus cow.

Filet had been earmarked for the freezer since we got her. She was a former range cow and was still, even after having her for 18 months, extremely stand-offish. Not aggressive, just not friendly. As an older animal, we knew she wouldn't be worth much more than ground beef (and tenderloin!).

For the actual dispatching, we had her corralled in this "chute" on the south side of the barn.

The animals are very familiar with this chute – it's usually open – so Filet experienced no stress or anxiety when we shooed her in around 5:45 am Monday morning. I didn't milk Maggie that morning, either, but just left Stormy (Maggie's calf) out of her pen for the night. Don and I shooed the rest of the herd into another pasture (including her six-month-old calf Romeo) until the deed was done.

Who was stressed and anxious in the days leading up to the slaughter was ME. I don't like killing things anyway, but there was also a LOT of residual stress left over from our last home, where we had a bunch of cobbled-together and often ineffective methods of confining animals before the butchers arrived, and several times animals escaped. Ug, I hate burchering days.

This is the first time we've had an animal butchered here in our new home, using the services of a new (to us) butcher. The actual dispatching is done by one party (an independent mobile dispatcher) and the hanging and cutting is done by a butchering business in a nearby town.

Since the mobile dispatcher lives just a short distance away, we asked him to drop by in advance so he could look over our setup and make sure everything was satisfactory.

You never met a nicer fellow than this dispatcher – knowledgeable and professional. He assured us the setup was fine. The plan was to drop Filet, bleed her out, then take the carcass to the butcher shop, where it will hang for 10 or 12 days before being cut up.

To say it went smooth as silk is to only hint at how easy it was. This morning Don and I hit the corral about 20 minutes before the butcher was due to show up (which he did promptly at 6 am), shooed Filet into the chute and shooed the rest of the livestock into the sacrifice pasture. It took five minutes and no one was the slightest bit alarmed.

The mobile dispatcher did the job with one bullet. Don (who was out with him) said Filet dropped like a rock and never knew what hit her. In other words, extremely fast and humane.

Naturally this leaves Romeo (and Mignon, her yearling calf) bereft of their mama, so there's that. Romeo is six months old, so plenty old enough to wean, but we wondered how he would react.

The first day, he didn't even appear to notice she was missing. Here's Romeo and Mignon, just hanging around in the sacrifice pasture below the barn.

In fact, except for a few bellows here and there, Romeo has done absolutely fine. It's been over a week now, and he doesn't appear to miss his mama at all.

Interestingly, the whole dynamic of the barn has changed now. Filet was unquestionably the alpha cow. To be honest, she was something of a bully to the other animals, including our Jersey Maggie. Now Maggie, as senior animal, has stepped into the role of alpha, and she's much nicer. In short, things are a lot calmer at the feed box.

However (and on a homestead, there's always a "however"), Romeo has found a major way to be obnoxious. He's discovered Maggie has milk. And since almost all Jerseys are what we call "universal donors" (meaning, very generous with their milk), he's been diving for the udder the moment I release Maggie from the milking stall each morning.

Here Stormy (Maggie's calf) is on the left, and Romeo is on the right.

This morning, I overslept a bit and didn't make it out to the barn until about 6:10 am. Stormy, of course, was locked away in the calf pen, but Romeo was avidly slurping away on Maggie. I got Maggie into the milking stall (forcibly locking Romeo out – he wanted to follow!) and settled down to milk Maggie.

I shouldn't have wasted my time. Poor Maggie had been drained dry. I barely got two ounces and just gave up. I released Maggie from the milking stall, then released Stormy from the calf pen. Both calves immediately dove for Maggie's udder, but Romeo had taken everything. Even Stormy didn't get her breakfast.

Okay, new plan: We're going to have to keep Romeo away from Maggie at night. We can't lock him in the calf pen with Stormy because there simply isn't enough room. (Remember, we had to shoehorn the calf pen and milking stall into a very tight corner of the barn.)

A fall project Don wants to accomplish before winter is to build an awning on the backside of the barn to give the animals extra space and shelter over the winter. We've decided to build a holding pen for Romeo into this awning space.

But that won't help for the immediate time being when it comes to milking Maggie. Filet has been gone over a week now, and this is the first time Romeo beat me to the milk, so to speak, probably because I overslept. I guess in the immediate, I just need to get out to the barn earlier and beat him to the faucet.

It's always something, y'know?

Some days, it's just not worth getting out of bed

Let me tell you about my morning in the barn. Keep in mind you can't really visualize the layout of everything I mention, but that's okay. Just soak up the chaos.

With sunrise getting later, I've been going out to the barn to milk Maggie around 5:45 am. This morning, when I tried to open the gate into the livestock side of the barn, I couldn't get it open because Romeo was lying down in front of it.

(This is what the gate looks like. This photo was taken before the milking stall and calf pen were built in the space to the left.)

My hands were full with the milking buckets in one hand and a scoop of grain in the other. I poked and prodded at Romeo through the space at the bottom of the gate, but he wouldn't move.

So I put down the buckets and the grain, and got more serious about poking and prodding him ("Come on, Romeo, move!"), but nothing doing. He was quite comfortable, thank you, and didn't see a reason to get up.

So I had to go outside the barn and go through two side gates to get into the corral, which got the other cows all excited. ("Are we going out that gate today? Yippee!") But Romeo hadn't moved. He was still comfortably bedded down in front of the gate.

So I shooed him up, slipped through the gate to grab the grain and milk buckets I'd left on the other side, only to turn around and be confronted by Maggie who wanted her grain right now. I managed to dart into the outer milking pen and slam the gate in Maggie's face before she could get in. I put down the grain and milking buckets and managed to get Stormy, the calf, back into the inner pan (Stormy has access to both pens overnight).

(This is the current setup, with the milking stall to the left, the inner calf pen in center-back, and the outer pen in center-front. The gate Romeo was blocking is to the right.)

Then I put the grain in Maggie's grain bucket on the other side of the head gate, opened the milking stall door, and let her in. She settled into her grain, I got the milking stool and leg tie from the shelf where I keep them, tied up Maggie's back let, and started milking.

Everything was going fine. Maggie was eating her grain. The rest of the animals were patiently waiting for breakfast (we've been feeding hay mornings and evenings since the pastures are pretty much eaten down). Stormy was quiet and patient, waiting for me to finish milking before she got her own breakfast.

Maggie finished her grain and, as she always does, took a step back in the milking stall. This is the point where I readjust her leg-tie and keep milking.

But wait, Maggie didn't stop. She kept backing out of the milking stall. Whaaaat? How is this even happening? What are you doing? Keep in mind Maggie's back leg was still tied. I yanked the end of the slip knot so she wouldn't trip and panic, and she continued backing all the way out of the stall.

It took me a moment to realize, in the chaotic moments before I started milking, I didn't lock Maggie's neck into the head gate of the milking stall.

(You can see the head gate in the closed position at the end of the milking stall below. Her grain bucket is on the other side.)

Well, there was nothing else to do but release Stormy (who got an exceptionally rich breakfast as a result) and fetch the tie off Maggie's leg. I fed the animals and came back into the house, sporting a nearly empty milk bucket.

The annoying thing is, I still had to clean and sanitize everything as if I'd gotten a full day's milking, rather than the pathetic one pint I managed to get.

Some days, it's just not worth getting out of bed.

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.