Bonnie and Max come home... FINALLY!

First, my daughter's Facebook message after seeing the doctor:
Just a quickie before my boss catches me on FB at work. :) We still don't know what they're going to do, surgically, and likely won't for a couple of weeks. MRI tomorrow, genetic testing being sent to lab today, and more test results to come. Pathology reports had some stuff we suspected, but a few good surprises, too. It's a 2 out of 3 as far as how aggressive it is, but it's fairly slow-growing. More updates to come. Shhhh! Here comes the boss!

We went to Phil's house to fetch Bonnie and Max back home, after more than a month away from us.  She seemed really glad to see me, and let me pet her nose through the fence.  She definitely lost weight while she was there, not because Phil doesn't feed his animals well, but because she was the runt of the herd and got pushed back from the hay quite a bit.  

  Home sweet home!  Don't worry, we'll get her back to her fighting weight.  She's the boss around here.  

Max, on the other hand, did not suffer any weight loss, but kept on growing as always.  Of course he did.  He had his mother's milk!

Jody and Max were SO happy to see one another, they immediately got into a head-butting contest, just like old times.

Babe was so glad to see Bonnie that she stayed this close to her for a long time, and they grazed side by side.

"I've missed you so much, Bonnie-the-Jersey-cow.  Please, never leave again!"

"I missed you too, girl friend; those cows over there were SO mean!"

So why another cow?

I had originally intended to watch for another Jersey, since they're my favorite breed.  And who knows how long Bonnie will last?  We aren't positive, but we think she was in heat last weekend.  Before it's time for her to cycle again, we'll take her to visit Cliff's brother's bull and hope for the best.  Poor thing, one of her quarters no longer gives milk and another is compromised; she seems to have a displaced hip, so she walks with a peculiar gait.  Not that this destroys her quality of life... shake a feed can at her and she can run at the speed of light to get to it.  That cow lives to eat!  
We went to the livestock auction a few days ago and were astounded at the prices beef cattle are bringing.  High-grade 600-pound calves are bringing as much as $900 each, so I thought to myself, "We have grass and hay to spare, and it's just going to waste.  We could have another cow on the place making us money."  
I finally realized that since I already have one Jersey cow and a Jersey heifer that will probably be having a calf in eighteen months, I'd be wiser to consider a beef cow that wouldn't have to be milked at all.    
We no longer have a pickup or trailer with which to transport cattle, so when Phil said he'd let me buy one of his cows (and he'd deliver it), we jumped right on that deal.  Lindie asked in a comment if the cow we're buying had been pregnancy checked; no, she isn't far enough along to check.  But Cliff's brother would make it good with us one way or another.  After all, he's the one who lets us use his bull for Bonnie, free of charge.  He's a good brother.
So we'll get Babe, the new cow, accustomed to the place, turn her loose, and wait until she has a calf and raises it  up to weaning size, then sell the calf.  Free money, right?  
Not quite.  I don't count the cost of mowing and baling hay, because Cliff mows this place like a park anyhow.  Just remember, though, that the calf Babe has in September won't be ready to sell until June or July of the next year, so it'll be eighteen months before we see a return on our investment.  And if she has a heifer calf, we might keep it.  On the other hand, we could probably take her to the sale barn when she's about ready to calve next September and make money on her.  Not that we plan to do that, because then we'd be looking for another cow to buy, wouldn't we?  
There's always the risk of a cow dying.  We once had a pretty weaned Holstein heifer that drowned in a shallow pond, in less than two feet of water:  The pond was iced over, the heifer walked out on the ice a short distance, the ice broke, and she couldn't make her way out of the ice-covered pond; she thrashed and struggled until she dropped from exhaustion, and was already dead when we discovered her there.  Years ago a lovely registered Jersey heifer was frolicking through the pasture, we assume, and ran right into a barbed wire fence, which wrapped around her neck in a hideous way.  She was alive when we found her, but her neck was broken.  Any time you are dealing with livestock, there's a risk.   

Even though it will likely be a year-and-a-half before Jody will have a calf and start giving milk, I'm getting her used to the feel of the stanchion now.  Bonnie hates it when I let another cow in the barn because she knows they are likely getting fed there; she bellows her displeasure until Jody is back with the herd.

Plans for Bonnie-the-Jersey-cow

Since I want to move my rant down the page a bit, I'll talk about this:  Bonnie should have started her heat cycles when her calf was a month or so old.  He's past four months now, and we've seen no signs of heat.  Cows, by the way, come in heat every 21 days, give or take a day; it isn't hard to tell when they are in heat.  
Bonnie owes us nothing.  She's filled the freezer with beef twice.  She's provided most of our milk and a lot our butter since she gave birth to her first calf.  
Sometimes cows just stop cycling.  Sometimes they cycle, but fail to breed.  I'm sure there's a cause for either of these situations, but it would be expensive to delve into that cause.  So I just take what life hands me and make the best of it.  
Normally Bonnie would be bred by now.  I would wean Max, her calf, about two months before her next calf was due.  We'd butcher Max at that time, or else sell him.  We plan to sell, in this instance.  That money would go a long way toward financing a trip to Wyoming.  If Bonnie isn't bred, we'll probably go ahead and let Max nurse her a couple months longer than usual.  Then we'll sell Bonnie (and her calf, if we don't have a private buyer at that time) at the Kingsville sale, where she'll probably be bought by some big buyer and end up as ground beef in a supermarket somewhere.  That's how things go in the country.  That hamburger you grill at home was somebody's cow, steer, or bull at some time in the past.  
This gloomy picture is made brighter by the fact that Jody, who is over six months old, can be bred shortly after she becomes a yearling.  So in eighteen months or so, I should have another cow giving me milk and presenting me with a calf each year... hopefully a heifer calf or two!  Also, we plan to attend the Kingsville sale tomorrow, and you never know when a cheap, bred Jersey cow will go through that ring.  
As Rick Harrison of Pawn Stars says, "You never know WHAT is going to walk through that door!"

I'm a cattle baroness.

Jody, on the left, is almost four months old.  She's been weaned awhile and is eating lots of grain.  The halter is on her because I am teaching her to lead.  Actually, she seems to have been born knowing how to lead.  Most calves, when you start trying to get them to follow you, will balk and refuse to move; some will even "sull up" as Cliff calls it, and fall on the ground with their eyes rolled back in their heads looking dead as a doornail.  (Strange expression, that.)
But Jody only put up a struggle the first time I had a rope on her; since then, she has followed me anywhere I lead her.  She does think it's fun to butt me, but I smack her with the end of the rope when she does that; she'll learn.  Once the fly season is over, we'll have the vet out to remove her horns, vaccinate her for whatever he thinks is wise, and remove an extra teat.  Yes, she has five.  It likely wouldn't produce anything, but I want it gone.  
I bought Jody because Bonnie, the cow in the background, refuses to give me a heifer calf.  
Bonnie was perfect when we bought her, but at this point she is battle-scarred:  Last year she got mastitis in two quarters, and one of those quarters quit producing entirely.  This year the other quarter with mastitis is, for now, giving good milk.  But once a cow has had mastitis in a quarter, you can bet it will show up again at some point.  Bonnie also has a displaced hip, which causes her to limp somewhat.  This problem was caused either by giving birth to those gigantic calves she always has, or else by one of those huge bulls she has to support when she's being bred.  Anyhow, she's had this slight limp for at least two years.  Cliff hadn't noticed it until I called his attention to it this year.   
Because so many things can go wrong with a milk cow, I wanted a backup, so I bought Jody.  She isn't pure Jersey, but she'll do in a pinch.  
Right now Bonnie is keeping us tied down at home because her calf still isn't able to take all her milk.  So I'm milking every morning.  Hope is in sight, though; today I got less milk than I have been bringing in (or pouring out).  Max's appetite must be increasing.

Where Bonnie spends her time

During this awful heat wave we've had for the past couple of weeks, Bonnie spends all day every day beside my cabin in the woods.  It must be the coolest place around.  When the sun gets low in the west, she grazes her way toward the house, and when her belly is full, she lies down to chew her cud near Jody.  

That's where I see her each morning at sunup.  As I write this, it's 6:40 A.M. and Bonnie is headed back toward the cabin again, grabbing a bite of luscious pasture with every step.  
Flies torture cattle and horses this time of year.  Not just ordinary flies, but horseflies and face flies and horn flies that leave blood running where they've bitten.  I can use spray that gives about ten minutes of relief to the poor cows, but nothing really keeps the flies off for very long.  If Bonnie weren't providing us with milk for nine months of the year, we could use cattle ear tags that are effective in keeping flies away for about a month; but as it is, she suffers.  They do get relief during nighttime hours, because the flies go away when it's dark.  
I am so hoping Bonnie has a heifer this time; not just because I want a pet, but because if it's a heifer, it won't be such a big calf.  Also, cows tend not to carry a heifer calf as long, which would help with the size of the calf.  Ten days before her due date I'll be keeping Bonnie closer to the house, not allowing her to go to her daily cool spot by the cabin.  There are huge gullies and canyons back there, and a staggering newborn would likely end up tumbling to the lowest point on our forty-two acres.  
That's what happened with her first calf.

I'd rather stand in the rain with you than to be in the barn alone.

These animals have been standing in close proximity for at least two hours, since before daybreak.  The thunder and lightning and rain have been intense.  Each animal has a sheltered place where she could go, but then they wouldn't be together.  
Bonnie and Jody aren't related.  It's just that, in times of stress, the herd instinct kicks in (this is our entire herd).  An electric fence separates them, but that doesn't stop them from being a herd.  They turn away from the prevailing winds and simply ride out the storm together.  


I can almost hear them singing "Stand By Me".  

Jody's New Digs

We've moved Jody from the front yard to the back, giving her a huge amount of grazing area.  Cliff went to a lot of trouble to fix the area up "just right", and Jody seems to love it.  She only stops eating long enough to lie down and chew her cud.  Because this is such a large area, it won't end up stinking like a feedlot, which is what happened with her original pen.  

This is my view from the window next to my computer.  I love it!  If I say something to her, she'll perk her ears up listening.

I stood in the back yard to take this picture of Jody's house, at the far end of her new pen.  I told you it was a big pen!  

 There she is having breakfast; the electric wire that defines the limits of her new pen is not far beyond the feed bunk.  

Cliff put two strands of electric wire up, just in case Jody tried running through it before she discovered it could shock her.  Fortunately, she had some exposure to a small length of electric fence in her last abode behind the barn, and she had learned her lesson well; she stopped about 18 inches away from this electric fence and never went nearer.   

The one thing lacking in this new pen was shade, so Cliff fashioned a nice big shaded area from things he had on hand.  This seems to be where Jody is going to hang out, even when the sun isn't shining.  

Can you see Bonnie in the distance?  She'll be grazing in this vicinity often, because cows are herd animals, and this is all the "herd" we have, now that poor Clyde has been butchered.  

Post #3 for today

Perhaps this means I'm getting back to my normal self.  Not that I've ever been all that normal.  
A week ago I was considering letting Jody, the (former) bottle calf, nurse my Jersey cow, Bonnie, for two weeks.  What a ridiculous idea that was.  
The cow would have had to be dried up after two weeks to prepare for her baby due in August, so it would have only been for that two-week period.  Most likely that would have been just enough time for Jody to get used to nursing a cow instead of a bottle, and possibly would have made her more difficult to wean.  So I fed her the last of the milk replacer and then started giving her all the calf feed she could eat, which by the way is quite a bit for a little heifer.  
We've had some frequent rains, and the pen Cliff and I had constructed for her in our front yard was beginning to get pretty muddy and stinky.  So we took that pen down and moved her to the small lot behind the barn, where she has more room; she can go inside the barn for shelter there.  
Now we're eyeing an area behind our house that has some excellent grazing for a growing calf.  We're considering putting up an electric fence (she needs to be trained to an electric fence anyhow), moving her little hutch out there for shelter, and letting her graze to her heart's content.  


Cliff is a nervous wreck as retirement draws near:  He will work tomorrow and Thursday, take a vacation day Friday, work Monday through Thursday of next week and take a vacation day that Friday.  And that will be the end of his job career and the beginning of a new adventure.  
A week from tomorrow (Wednesday) I will see the orthopedist and hopefully be done with going to therapy three days a week.    

New adventure

From the time we brought Jody home six weeks ago, I've had the intentions of halter-breaking her.  Bonnie isn't broke to lead with a halter and rope, and it hasn't been a big deal; but sometimes it's really nice if you can lead your cow where you'd like her to be... for instance, to a different pen.  Or maybe you'd like to let her graze the grass in the unfenced yard.  Or, if she fails to breed, it might be handy to be able to lead her up the road a mile to the local butcher shop.  
We looked for a calf halter for a long time, and finally found one at Orcheln's.  I knew it was far too big for my little heifer, but Cliff put added holes in it so it would fasten up tighter.  
Jody is afraid of strangers, and I was afraid to compromise my new knee by trying to hogtie a calf and get a halter on her, so we hadn't begun to halter-break her yet. 
Today we took Bonnie's son, Clyde, to the butcher shop.  Now, dairy cows should be allowed from six weeks to two months dry, to rest up for the next baby.  If we dried her up today, it would be two months.  
I will run out of milk replacer tomorrow, and I was going to wean Jody, since she's eating so much grain; she would be fine with that, once she forgot what the bottle was for.  
But yet, just think how much good it would do her to have some good, rich Jersey milk twice a day for two weeks.  She would probably gain weight like crazy!  And let's not even talk about how happy she would be to be sucking on real teats instead of a rubber nipple!  
So this evening, with nobody around to help me, I decided to put the too-large halter on Jody and see if I could get her to the little lot behind the barn.

Here's how it went, but believe it or not, I got her there!


I already had Bonnie in the barn eating, so I led dragged Jody into the barn and introduced her to a teat.  
That part was easy; she grabbed right on.  I think I heard her humming, "Oh, my Mama, to me you are so wonderful..."  

Bonnie kicked at her a couple of times in protest, then went back to eating.  I guess she knew that wee little thing at her side wasn't 782-pound Clyde.  (Yes, that's how much he weighed when we checked him in at the butcher shop today.)    
I went to the other side, got my bucket, and started milking "my" two teats.  
And folks, that's as eventful as it got.  
When Bonnie seemed to have no more milk, I dragged Jody out of the barn into the lot.  I drove Bonnie to the other door that lets out into the big pasture and shut the door behind her.  Then I went out and dragged Jody back to her pen.  
If the two of them bond, I may let Jody run at Bonnie's side for two weeks.  I will have to watch closely for scours (diarrhea) because Jody isn't used to that much milk, especially rich Jersey milk.  However, she's old enough that the danger isn't all that great, even if she does have a problem at first.  Besides, I do have some pills in my possession for that problem.    
Hey, this may be the best way to halter-break a baby calf:  Let them know there is MILK at the end of the journey!

I still have it!

I spoke rashly the other day when I made the statement, "Of all the things I've lost, I miss my enthusiasm the most."  
How easily some things are overlooked!  

2nd iris of the year, a red one.

Every morning when I go out at the crack of dawn to check on the blooming and growing things, I find my enthusiasm.  How exciting it is to see a huge bloom on an iris that has never bloomed here before!  Or to walk beside the garden and realize the potatoes need to be hilled and know we'll be having peas and new potatoes in no time.  
The hummingbirds are back full force now, fighting amongst one another like so many wayward siblings.  I can't look at them without smiling.  
A loudmouth male oriole has been hitting the hummingbird buffet several times a day, and yesterday I noticed he had a girl friend who was enjoying the grape jelly I put out for them.  One thing about that male oriole:  He can't seem to keep his mouth shut when he's enjoying his grub, and I can hear him squawking no matter what room I'm in, with the windows open.  Folks, this is exciting stuff!  The trouble is, orioles are very skittish, so I can't make any sudden moves or noise inside the house or they fly away.  You should see me, turning off lights and sneaking like an idiot to the window to watch them.  
And then there's Jody, my calf.  She's eating grain and chewing her cud and grazing, apparently past the danger of scours now.  I won't worry about her while I'm in the hospital next week; I think she's outgrown the need for an hourly poop inspector.  All I have to do is have someone feed her while I'm gone.  
Yesterday I noticed that the same people from whom I purchased Jody have eight more heifers for sale; their Craigslist ad gave me information about my calf that I didn't have before:  
Jersey/holstein cross heifer bottle calves. Last 8 heifer calves of the season available Monday afternoon. Straight from a grass based dairy where the cows are producing 10,000 lbs milk with 5% fat test on just 1 lb of grain per day. If you are looking for a nice heifer to raise as a family cow, now is the time to buy!

*Most of the bull calves are spoken for, but if you want one to raise along with a heifer we can sell you one for $120.
Heifers are $275 and bulls are $120 each. Cash only, Please. 

Now I know more about Jody's past, and my enthusiasm once again rises to the surface.  

I read the ad to Cliff, and he sounded enthusiastic too.  "But I hate to get another one without you being here to take care of it and watch it next week," he said.  

I told him I don't want another calf right now.  For one thing, we'd have to make another pen; if you put two bottle calves in a pen together they suck on any bodily part of one another they can get to, usually the naval area or the little immature udders (which can ruin a milk cow's udder in the future).  But here's the thing:  one calf is a pet.  I can spoil her and halter-train her and thoroughly enjoy her.  More than one calf starts turning into a job.  

Jody is already part of the herd; ever since I got her, Bonnie and Clyde make it their business to come right up close to her pen to lay down and chew their cuds; cows are not loners, and they have already accepted Jody as one of them.  

So yes, I do have enthusiasm.  I just take it for granted and forget I have it sometimes.  I may be soured on the human race, but God's handiwork never leaves me bored.
  

Jody's name

A reader commented that she loved my calf's name, Jody.  Therein lies a story.
In 1962, the corrugated box plant (Alton) where my dad was employed moved from North Kansas City, Missouri, to Blue Springs.  At that time, Blue Springs was a small town east of Kansas City, not the metropolis it's become today.
My parents bought a house just outside the city limits of the little town, about a half-mile up the road from Adams' Dairy.  There was a rental property across the road that belonged to a retired doctor in Kansas City, a Dr. Gilkey, who had bought it as an investment.  The old two-story house there was occupied by various renters for a long time; the surrounding pasture that went with the property sat vacant most of the time, except for a brief period when a man rented it for his horses.  
Finally both the house and pasture became available to rent, and my parents sold their house and moved across the road to the Gilkey place.  They were renters once again, but they had a wonderful back-to-the-land period in their lives.  Daddy put out huge gardens, with my mother canning, drying, and freezing everything she could possibly raise.  A local butcher, Richard Dent, told them they could have his three-quartered Holstein cow to milk if they would supply his family of six with milk.  
I think the half-angus calf this Holstein gave birth to was Jody, one of the cows we eventually bought from my parents.  
One of my mom's Avon customers had a couple of bred dairy heifers they had raised from babies, and my parents bought them:  Their names were Beauty and Suzy; Beauty was Guernsey, and Suzy was some sort of mix of Guernsey, Jersey, and/or Brown Swiss.  
Those two cows also gave birth, and there must have been some others around, too.
Because I remember why my mother named that group of calves as she did.  
Her favorite TV show that year was "A Family Affair", starring Brian Keith and Sebastian Cabot.  So she named the calves that year after the characters:  Uncle Bill, Mr. French, Buffy, and Jody.  
On the show, Jody was a little boy, but my mom paid no attention to that, and named the Holstein cow's little black heifer Jody.   
The first milk cow we bought from my parents was Suzy; the second was Jody.  
I named my new calf Jody just for these memories, because she bears no resemblance to the first Jody at all.  


That old Gilkey place still sits empty, growing weeds.  It has to be worth a fortune, and I can't help wondering who owns it and why they've never sold it during a real estate boom and made millions.   Hmmm, we're going to Blue Springs today.  Maybe I'll take a picture or two.  
Oh, and Adams' Dairy is no more, but all over Blue Springs you will find roads and housing additions and shopping plazas with "Adams Dairy" incorporated into their names.

Breakfast with Jody

Last night when I went out to feed Jody her bottle, I saw she had diarrhea (scours).  I came back to the house, dumped the milk replacer down the sink, and filled the bottle with electrolyte solution... that's like Pedialite for calves.  She showed no other signs of being sick, and took the bottle eagerly.  I also gave her a scours pill.  Calves can go down fast when they have diarrhea; these precautions were probably unnecessary, but I like to be on the safe side.

This morning I watched Jody for quite awhile for any signs of sickness, and then gave her milk replacer in her bottle.  Often, right after calves get their bellies full is when their bowels move, so I hung around for a poop check.  Nothing happened, which is a good thing.  Then Jody headed toward her feeder and started eating sweet feed.  Another good sign.
I have an ongoing battle with sparrows.  They descend on the calf's feeder and eat like crazy, pooping and contaminating as they eat.  So for now, I've been covering the feed unless the calf is actually in eating mode, or unless I'm nearby.  Have I mentioned that I hate sparrows?
The more grain a calf eats, the less likely she is to get scours.





Jody is doing very well with eating grain, for her age... under two weeks old.

Tasting the world

We all know how babies are about putting things in their mouths.  Jody (yes, I changed the spelling) is no different.  After all, how is a baby going to know what tastes good if she doesn't try new things?  

This baby has tried hay, chewing two strands of it thoroughly.  Unlike older cows, she has to chew; she isn't a ruminant until she is able to chew her cud.  Once she can do that (probably within a couple of weeks), she'll swallow her food without chewing and regurgitate it later for more thorough processing.

  Grass is pretty tasty.  

Gates, not so much, but she gave it several tries.  

Same thing goes for fences.  

I'm sure she'd taste Iris too, if she could get to her.  

Cliff and I built a nice little pen for Jody, and hauled up my last remaining usable calf hutch for shelter.  She's located where I can see her from the kitchen window and also from the window next to my recliner.  

She seems to like her new home just fine.  It's interesting the way baby calves will seek out a hidey-hole; you don't have to force them into a shelter.  They find it on their own.  They feel safe when hidden away from general viewing.  
We constructed the pen out of old hog-panels, giving her plenty of room to run and play.  When she's weaned and big enough to run with the other cows, we'll take the pen down.  


We think Jody must be 3/4 Jersey and 1/4 Holstein; all the 1/2 Holsteins we've ever seen were black-and-white spotted, with perhaps a tinge of brown in the black areas.  She is larger than most purebred Jersey heifers, bigger-boned and coarser; but she has all the coloring of a Jersey.