From the Farm: When mom gets in the way

Kavi, a Scottish Highland cow, with her day-old calf Crackle at Miles Smith Farm. At first, Crackle would not nurse, but now he’s a thriving bottle-fed calf.

Kavi, a Scottish Highland cow, with her day-old calf Crackle at Miles Smith Farm. At first, Crackle would not nurse, but now he’s a thriving bottle-fed calf. Courtesy

Published: 08-02-2024 3:00 PM

The day campers held vigil all week, waiting for Kavi’s calf to be born. On Tuesday, she showed signs that the arrival was imminent.

Farm Camp day campers watched as huge Kavi took her time to give birth. We had false alarms twice when a camper thought he saw a calf’s leg emerge.

“She’ll probably wait until you all leave for the day,” I told the children. “Over a hundred calves have been born on the farm, and I’ve only seen a half dozen being born.”

And that’s what happened. Camp ended on July 12, and Kavi went into labor on the 13th. The Saturday after camp, I found a little red heifer calf lying on the ground, dead. Hours later, I remembered that two years ago, Kavi had given birth to twins – one alive and one stillborn. So I got thinking, maybe there’s another baby out there.

Sure enough, when I checked later, I saw a tiny silver bull standing beside Kavi. We brought Kavi and the twin calf into the holding pen to ensure he latched on to mom’s teats and got a good drink at mom’s “milk bar.”

This little silver calf was nudging and butting at his mom’s chest and butt. He even ducked his head under her belly and nuzzled her teats. The campers had decided the calf’s name would be Crackle. Crackle seemed to be nursing so I left thinking thoughts of joy and happiness that this little guy would be a survivor.

After all, is it too much to ask that after a calf gets up, he finds his way to the breakfast buffet and drinks his fill? That’s what calves are supposed to do. It’s genetically imprinted on them and their only means of survival in the wild.

Don’t drink, and eventually you’ll die, a truth for calves, dogs, and, well, basically all wildlife. Instead, this tiny calf decided he wasn’t going to suck on his mom’s teat.

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That night it was apparent he wasn’t nursing; his belly was empty, so I offered Crackle a bottle of raw milk, which he sucked down later; when offered a second bottle, he wouldn’t drink. This calf was weak, and every hour without food, he got weaker.

The vet prescribed Vitamin B and BoSe with selenium to give him energy. But even with the meds, he wouldn’t drink from the bottle or nurse on his mom, so I used a syringe to squirt milk into his mouth. He tolerated my ministrations, but it wasn’t enough, and on his fourth day, he was a limp rag.

That’s when I did what I dreaded: tube feeding. I stuck a tube down his throat to his stomach and hung a bag of milk overhead drained into Crackle’s belly.

During my ministrations, his mom, Kavi, a 1,100-pound Scottish Highland cow with massive horns, was tied nearby, watching. When done trying to feed Mr. Crackle, I’d untie her, and she’d walk over to him, lick him, and coo gently to him. It wasn’t her fault he was a fussy eater, but by the fourth day, she was more of a liability than a help. Kavi’s plentiful manure was polluting their pen, and Cracle needed a clean, dry, fly-free pen to recover.

So farm helper Jean and I moved Crackle to the “Hospital Shed,” which had clean bedding and extra space to set a fan on him (it was brutally hot that week). In this clean and airy space, we tube-fed him raw milk three times that day. He was floppy and limp but still alive.

The extra care paid off, and by Day 5, he was standing when I entered his stall; he followed me around looking for milk and even sucked from the nipple a bit. He’d decided to live.

We put another, older recovering calf named Mr. Bean in with Crackle, and now, a week later, they are both healthy, eating and enjoying each other’s company.

Now Crackle comes running when he sees his milk bottle, and Mr. Bean is a great role model and friend to this little guy. When raising livestock, you must celebrate all victories, even the difficult ones.

Carole Soule is the co-owner of Miles Smith Farm (milessmithfarm.com) in Loudon, N.H. She raises and sells beef, pork, lamb, eggs, and other local products. She can be reached at carolesoule60@gmail.com.