We have a particular way we get our cows bred, and it's likely no different from how others get their cows bred: One bull with a good nose, plus one cow in heat, equals one calf many months later. That's at least how it should happen: It may not be quite that simple every time, owing to the fact that the cow in question may not "catch" on the first try.
However, if the bull stays with the cow long enough, the cow will get big enough.
Millie has been both our supplier of fresh milk and freezer meat (via her calves) for the past many years. She just gave birth to this year's calf the other day, another bull. We've named him Chuck, for reasons which I will develop in a couple of paragraphs. Millie has produced nothing but bulls for us ever since we had her, with one exception—a heifer named Delly.
(Okay, they're bulls for a day or so, until we "steer" them in a different direction.)
Delly, that solo heifer among bulls, is short for "delicatessen," one of many witty names we have given our calves over the past nine years. We name them after meat cuts of some sort—rather than the usual Blackie, Poopsie, and Flora—because of their ultimate destiny. So, over the years we have had, among others, Sir Loin, Baron, Meatball, and Hammie. (Maurice, that would be short for 'hamburger'.) Chuck, then, is short for chuck roast..
Our plan works well every year and we have enjoyed the end result of some bull's labour, as well as Millie's labour, though in both cases, the effort is a little different. She catches quickly and calves easily, and all has worked out well—that is, until last year. Delly was a late spring calf, so by the time bull showed up to, er, service the cows, unbeknownst to us, Delly was a fully functioning cow. And when I speak of functioning, I am referring to more than eating and sleeping, bellowing and belching.
Can you spell R-E-P-R-O-D-U-C-T-I-O-N system?
So here's our dilemma: The heifer that was heading to the freezer this fall is now heading to the maternity ward of our operation. Instead of being meat, she's going to be a mother. What I thought was healthy fat is actually a healthy calf. (Go ahead, people, add a few more quips yourself, but remember who's cooking supper.)
Perhaps I've overstated it by calling it a 'dilemma'; it's more of a what-do-we-do-now scenario. Obviously, there is no thought of butchering her now or in the near future. By producing beef, she has, you might say, saved her bacon. One of the kids will get her as a pet project, and another one of the kids might end up getting the calf. And all I get is a little decision to make.
The challenge is that we were counting on eating our own beef, with the satisfaction that we knew its health and history. We could butcher our other calves, of course, but they are only a few months old. I suppose that would add a new definition to the term "lean" beef.
As a writer-teacher-preacher-director guy, I am not quite at ease with this calving business as many of my friends are. I have learned from friends that a cow doesn't get pregnant, she "catches"; but if she's not pregnant, she's "open"; and calves aren't born, they "hit the ground". I have also discovered what a "prairie oyster" is, but only as a definition, friends, not as a delicacy.
It won't be long before we bring back the bull to do more than eat and sleep, bellow and belch. And for this "service call" I think I will keep all the young heifers in another pasture. After all, a man has to eat, you know.
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