Herd
Last spring we had high hopes that Samson and Delilah would, well, to put it the Dixie Chicks way, "do a little mattress dancing". By fall, we called the vet thinking she must surely be pregnant as we hadn't seen any signs of her being in heat all summer. The vet, however, delivered the bad news. No calf was on its way. He did assure us that Delilah was in great health and he found no reason for concern. He gave her a vitamin shot, told us to "keep doing what you're doing" and that was that.
This week we had the vet back out. We still had no signs of her being in heat and we knew there was a shot he could give that would help jump start the process. Anticipating a fall birth, we thought this was a great time to try to get that ball rolling.
Samson wasn't too thrilled about being moved to the other pasture ahead of the vet's arrival. Sure, an extra bowl of grain is always welcome but then he seemed anxious to be back with Delilah. For her part, Delilah really didn't seem to care about being in the pen as long as there was grain to be had. The Mister has to adjust his system every time the vet comes as her horns get longer and make the confining mechanism a little more complicated. He always gets it worked out, however, and Delilah was all set and ready for the vet. And boy, do they know the vet. The moment he pulls up, she stands stock still. She watches him like the proverbial hawk. After the last visit, however, I learned that she hates shots far worse than the "check-up" even when the "check-up" puts the vet shoulder deep in her, well, you get the idea.
In any case, the vet wanted to check her out before giving her the shot and we welcomed the chance to ensure nothing was wrong again. James was just re-entering the pasture from checking on Samson when the vet calmly declared, "she's pregnant". WHAT?!?!? I turned and looked at James to make sure he heard it, too. "I'd say five or six months along," the vet confirmed. Apparently when he reached in, he was able to put his hand right on the calf's head.
At this point, I might have screamed. I might have shouted at an unreasonably excited level. I might have jumped up and down and repeatedly said, "Good girl, Delilah!! Way to go!!" A calf?!? Due in May?!? Could this be more perfect?!? The vet, who resembles Barney Fife, walked back to his truck as though a crazy woman jumping around a pasture was an every day experience for him. We threw about a hundred questions at him rapid-fire, "What do we do now?" (Nothing.) "Do we need to separate Samson when the time gets close?" (Not unless he seems to be a problem with the calf.) "How will we know when it's time?" (It will be udderly obvious. Okay, the vet didn't say that exactly, but it's my version of the story.)
We wrote the vet a check. Somehow $33.50 just doesn't seem nearly enough in my book for being shoulder-deep in a cow's arse, but it's his business, I'm not going to tell him how to run it.
I then continued to run around, jumping up and down shouting to Samson, "You did it!! Good job, Samson!!" and to Delilah, "I'm so proud of you, girl!! Way to go!! A BABY!!" Even The Mister thought I was a little over the top. We released Samson back into the regular pasture with Delilah and he went a running and bucking to see her. Maybe he was excited about the news as well, maybe it was just that she had another bit of grain from The Mister and he wanted some of that golden goodness, but either way he seemed glad to be together again. For me, I may have continued saying, "A calf!! Can you believe it?!" well into the evening, giggling all the while.
Somehow the calf to me just represents pure joy. We love Samson and Delilah to smithereens, but this calf came about on our farm, and will be ours from Day One. There are few things in this world cuter than a highland calf and we're going to have one within just a few months. Running around like a crazy woman and shouting was the least I could do with all the excitement I felt.
When we were originally talking with farmers about getting highlands of our own, several people reminded us of the importance of having more than one. "One is lonely. Two is a pair. Three makes a herd," several people told us. Samson and Delilah are creating their own little herd. Out in our beautiful pasture. I could not be more thrilled, nor feel more blessed. These magnificent beasts bring us such joy it is beyond measure (and well worth the cost of hay).
Way to go, Samson and Delilah! This is bound to be such an amazing experience for all of us.
This week we had the vet back out. We still had no signs of her being in heat and we knew there was a shot he could give that would help jump start the process. Anticipating a fall birth, we thought this was a great time to try to get that ball rolling.
Samson wasn't too thrilled about being moved to the other pasture ahead of the vet's arrival. Sure, an extra bowl of grain is always welcome but then he seemed anxious to be back with Delilah. For her part, Delilah really didn't seem to care about being in the pen as long as there was grain to be had. The Mister has to adjust his system every time the vet comes as her horns get longer and make the confining mechanism a little more complicated. He always gets it worked out, however, and Delilah was all set and ready for the vet. And boy, do they know the vet. The moment he pulls up, she stands stock still. She watches him like the proverbial hawk. After the last visit, however, I learned that she hates shots far worse than the "check-up" even when the "check-up" puts the vet shoulder deep in her, well, you get the idea.
In any case, the vet wanted to check her out before giving her the shot and we welcomed the chance to ensure nothing was wrong again. James was just re-entering the pasture from checking on Samson when the vet calmly declared, "she's pregnant". WHAT?!?!? I turned and looked at James to make sure he heard it, too. "I'd say five or six months along," the vet confirmed. Apparently when he reached in, he was able to put his hand right on the calf's head.
At this point, I might have screamed. I might have shouted at an unreasonably excited level. I might have jumped up and down and repeatedly said, "Good girl, Delilah!! Way to go!!" A calf?!? Due in May?!? Could this be more perfect?!? The vet, who resembles Barney Fife, walked back to his truck as though a crazy woman jumping around a pasture was an every day experience for him. We threw about a hundred questions at him rapid-fire, "What do we do now?" (Nothing.) "Do we need to separate Samson when the time gets close?" (Not unless he seems to be a problem with the calf.) "How will we know when it's time?" (It will be udderly obvious. Okay, the vet didn't say that exactly, but it's my version of the story.)
We wrote the vet a check. Somehow $33.50 just doesn't seem nearly enough in my book for being shoulder-deep in a cow's arse, but it's his business, I'm not going to tell him how to run it.
I then continued to run around, jumping up and down shouting to Samson, "You did it!! Good job, Samson!!" and to Delilah, "I'm so proud of you, girl!! Way to go!! A BABY!!" Even The Mister thought I was a little over the top. We released Samson back into the regular pasture with Delilah and he went a running and bucking to see her. Maybe he was excited about the news as well, maybe it was just that she had another bit of grain from The Mister and he wanted some of that golden goodness, but either way he seemed glad to be together again. For me, I may have continued saying, "A calf!! Can you believe it?!" well into the evening, giggling all the while.
Somehow the calf to me just represents pure joy. We love Samson and Delilah to smithereens, but this calf came about on our farm, and will be ours from Day One. There are few things in this world cuter than a highland calf and we're going to have one within just a few months. Running around like a crazy woman and shouting was the least I could do with all the excitement I felt.
When we were originally talking with farmers about getting highlands of our own, several people reminded us of the importance of having more than one. "One is lonely. Two is a pair. Three makes a herd," several people told us. Samson and Delilah are creating their own little herd. Out in our beautiful pasture. I could not be more thrilled, nor feel more blessed. These magnificent beasts bring us such joy it is beyond measure (and well worth the cost of hay).
Way to go, Samson and Delilah! This is bound to be such an amazing experience for all of us.
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