Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Next Time I'll Do Better

After more than five years of running our own farm, it still bothers me, watching a life slip away, any life. It was cold this morning, and we were short handed on the farm because someone decided not to come to work today. So we were working as quickly as we could to get all the animals fed, milked, get the barns cleaned, manure hauled, and everything else in between. One of the more important jobs is checking the pen of cows that is close to calving, the maternity pen. I checked them at 4 am and another of my employees checked them at about 7 am. He said there were no babies born.

Later that morning, my husband was bringing more feed for the maternity pen, I was watching the gate. He noticed something in the straw, I could tell by the way he looked up at me that it was a newborn calf and she was in trouble. I came over to him and there was this wet and very still calf. She was alive but her breath was so shallow, I had to check twice to find signs of life. As I said it was cold this morning and the cow was a first time mother, she did not lick off her calf to get her dry and give her a chance to stay warm. I immediately scooped up the wet, frigid calf and held her tight as I rushed her to the milk house where I bathed her in warm water, she kicked her legs a little and even let out a low and raspy little moo. I dried her with the old bath towels we keep in the barn and I made her a warm bed in front of the heater in the office bathroom the warmest room in the barn.

Every hour I re-warmed the heating pads I had tucked all around her and checked the inside of her mouth to see if her core body temperature was any warmer, from the time I brought her in she just never could get warmer. I was amazed that she could live at all when any part of her that was not right next to the heating pads was ice cold. I know that bringing body temperature up after hypothermia must be done slowly, too hot would shock her body to much. When I checked her at 2 pm and she was still breathing I thought she might have a chance. But when I checked again at 3 she was gone.

When the kids got home from their Grandma’s house that evening I asked what the best part of their day was and they asked how things went on the farm. I said I was sad because we had lost a calf today, they asked how and I told them the story, my son said “Mom, don’t feel bad it wasn’t your fault it was your worker’s fault.” I said, “honey, I am responsible for everything that happens on the farm, it is my fault because I didn’t train him well enough.”

The reason I share this is because I worry that sometimes farmers are characterized as profit driven, numb to emotion, I remember reading an article that said work on modern farms is “soulless.” It just isn’t true, we work so hard to save every life. Mine is a modern farm and today my soul aches. I still shed tears when I can’t help. And I take seriously the responsibility for every creature under my care, and next time I will do better.