DESTINY
“What’s your schedule for today?”
This is a question Ray routinely asks me first thing in the morning. There are always unforeseen surprises on the farm, so we try to coordinate our planned obligations so that we can accomplish as much done of the required tasks as possible each day.
“I need to get the milk-saver ready to feed Demi and Marilyn, the orphan calves.
Tragically, we have two orphans this year. First, Danica lost her life to mastitis. And then our beautiful Maybelline, with the long angel wings hanging from her ears, succumbed to that same insidious mastitis bacteria. Despite treating them as soon as we discovered mastitis in their udders, the mastitis bacteria crossed the udder to blood barrier, and rapidly became systemic and deadly. The vet suggested we not let any other cows calve in that pen this year as perhaps antibiotic-resistant bacteria was harboring there.
“We need to get Bunny and Bugs out of the barn this morning. I don’t want to take the chance of Bunny getting sick from any mastitis germs. Baby Bugs will need to be haltered and fence-trained.”
When calves exit the barn after we are sure they are bonded and nursing successfully, we halter them, attaching a 30’ dog leash to the halter. Although most of our fencing is single strand electric fence, our fence training paddock is a small area outside the barn surrounded by a double strand of wire flagged with bright surveyor ribbons. The first thing a calf wants to do when exiting the barn is try out those new legs. The calf runs and bumps into the fence. Zap! The instinct is to charge through the fence to get away from that nasty zapper. A gentle tug on the dog leash keeps the calf inside the fence training paddock. After a couple of zaps, the calf figures out what that fence does, never testing it again. Before we figured this method out, there would be hollers of “Calf’s Out!” followed by frantic attempts to get the calf to come back through a fence that just had zapped them and sent them running.
“I need to pick up the chair for Highland House that got repaired at the antique shop, and if possible, I’d like to play a couple of games of Pickleball. I’ll be home by 10 to take you to your 10:45 doctor appointment for your back. We’ll deliver this week’s beef to the Co-op after your appointment. Someone is coming to wash the windows at Highland House at 12:30, and a man from Catamount Solar is coming at 3:00 to prepare an estimate to install solar panels on the roof to help lower our electric bills."
"What’s your schedule?”
“I’m hoping to bale the hay I mowed yesterday. The baler is not working perfectly but I think I can get the bales made before the rain. The wrapper is not cutting the plastic. I’ll try to get that ready to wrap the bales when I get them made.”
The hungry and demanding orphans were fed. After fence training, Bunny and Bugs were happily munching hay from the feeder in front of the barn. The chair had been loaded into the back of my car. I snuck in three games of Pickleball. Ray's doctor's appointment was completed, windows got washed, and rooftop solar sites assessed. At 4:00 it was time to hit the computer to catch up on the day’s emails and correspondence.
Ray had gotten the hay baled, ready to be wrapped. Things had gone as planned. This was a good day.
“Get me the sharpest knife you have, and hurry,” Ray yelled as he burst through the front door. “We’re probably going to lose another cow.”
Grabbing a long carving knife, I ran behind Ray, yelling "What happened? Which cow is it?" followed by more to myself, "I don't think I can do this anymore. It's too hard. We've lost two momma cows already this spring."
"We've got to try to save this cow. Hurry up," Ray insisted.
Running up to the barn, I looked at the path the cows take to get to the woods for shade. About a dozen cows were standing in a circle, staring down at the contorted and bloating body on the ground. First task, get the onlooking animals away. The injured cow did not need an audience, and we needed room to assist the downed cow. All bystanders were shooed away to another paddock.
And there she was, a cow on her back, all four legs in the air, a perfect udder exposed to the light. Although I would not want to lose any cow, I had hoped it might be a young crossbred not raising a calf. Uttering an expletive, I immediately knew it was a momma Highland, raising her calf. Looking more closely next to her massive horn, the tag in her right ear read #39.
On the other side of #39's massive head--no horn. Snapped off at the skull and dangling, was the cow's left horn.
"It's Destiny," I wept. "Oh no. Poor Destiny. She's out of Cinnamon Bear. We can't lose Destiny."
"Give me the knife," Ray commanded.
Feeling her distended belly with one hand, Ray's other hand plunged the knife through Destiny's heavy red hair and thick hide and into her side. An audible whoosh exited her abdomen like a giant balloon losing its air. Destiny shook her head a little and the heavy, dangling, horn flopped in front of her face.
"Take me over to the hayfield. I going to need the tractor."
Running to the car, we drove to the hayfield--fortunately just a mile away. Ray brought the tractor home as quickly as possible; the grabber hooked to the front loader. Ensnaring a large white, wrapped round bale between the metal arms, he instructed me to take down fencing so he could get behind Destiny with the tractor and the hovering bale. Ray positioned the tractor beside Destiny, the white bale between the upside-down cow and the John Deere. Gently, moving the tractor an inch at a time, the plastic wrapped bale pushed against Destiny's side. Like a giant marshmallow, it cushioned her body, elevating her ever so slowly.
And then it happened! Magically, Destiny was laying upright, belly down, feet towards earth rather than reaching for the sky. Leaving the tractor and bale positioned in place to support Destiny and prevent her from rolling back over, Ray asked again for the knife. Inserting again into the first hole which had subsequently closed up, another massive whoosh of air escaped from Destiny's body into the atmosphere.
"Call the Vet!"
I phoned the answering service for our local large animal vet. Despite it being 6:00 PM, Destiny needed immediate care to remove the dangling horn that kept flopping in front of her face, confusing and agitating her. She would need to be sedated to allow the removal of the horn. She would need antibiotics due to an open wound into the skull. And the flesh wound would need to be stitched up.
To accomplish all of this, we needed to get Destiny--injured and weak--into the barn. Destiny's calf would need to be in the barn with her, so that she would not be stressed about where he was.
Destiny's calf was located and brought to momma. Highlands are superb mothers and when her baby arrived, Destiny dutifully and miraculously hauled herself onto her feet. Despite the pain she must have suffered and near death from bloating, she licked her calf and though a bit wobbly, made herself available for him to nurse. After moving some animals around in the barn, a pen was prepared for Destiny with clean straw and fresh water. That long flapping horn was frustrating for Destiny as she tried to get away from it as she made her way to the barn, her baby trotting behind. It was painful to watch her suffer.
Seeing the Vet's vehicle arrive was a welcome sight. Dr. Drolet (who I taught in first grade) wondered if we could get Destiny into the squeeze chute. With that dangling horn, and Destiny's weakened state Ray and I did not think that would be a good idea. We were afraid she might bump the injury on the way into the chute causing more pain. We decided to confine her against a wall in the barn and secure a gate tightly against her side to keep her and the vet safe during the procedures. The gate was chained tightly to the adjacent gate and Destiny given a mild sedative to relax her so the vet could remove the horn.
Horns, unlike antlers, are living organs filled with flesh and blood. There was copious bleeding at the base of the skull. It had not been a clean break. The horn had to be wire-sawed away from the bone of Destiny's skull. The vet then stitched up the open skin as best as he could, and Destiny was given a long-lasting antibiotic. The gate was unhitched, swung back and momma and calf given full access to the pen. Destiny stayed prone and subdued for several hours. During that night she stood, ate hay, drank water, and gave her calf a bath, which we could observe on the barn camera.
We are incredibly grateful that Destiny was found her before she passed away from bloating, grateful for Ray's lifetime of farming, experience and courage to do what needed to be done in the moment, grateful to have a barn and handling facility, grateful for our amazing and skilled Vet, grateful that Destiny's docility and trusting us to help her, and grateful for the strength, tenacity and resiliency of this ancient breed that have been living unaltered on survival instincts for 1600 years.
You might be wondering how this could have happened. We are too. In fifty-eight years, we have never had a cow snap off a horn at the skull. There might have been a horn tip that got broken when pushing heads, but never an adult cow losing their entire horn. This May in Vermont it was rainy--23 out of 31 days. The ground was so saturated that it was impossible to put hay out to the cows without tractor tires leaving ruts. The only thing we can think of is that Destiny lay down in a tire rut, rolled over and could not get up. While thrashing to get upright, perhaps she caught the horn in the side of the rut and snapped it off? It must have been a violent snap to break a horn from the skull. With the blood loss and bloating, Destiny was likely going into shock when Ray found her.
Destiny is an outstanding cow and has been a trooper about letting us clean the wound to help her. We are hopeful for a recovery, but Destiny is not out of the woods yet. She will be confined in the barn for some time until the wound closes up and is not so attractive to flies and dirt. She is still susceptible to infection and will get another dose of antibiotics tomorrow. Her stitches will need to be removed in two weeks by the vet.
Most of us never get to know our destiny. Destiny's destiny, if she survives this trauma, will be as a one-horned Highland with a heart of gold, reminding us that what is on the inside is all that truly matters.
#farmstayUS #highlandhousefarmstay #greenfieldhighlandbeef #shatacreshighlandcattle #farmlife #farming Highland House Farm Stay Capital City Farmers' Market Montpelier Vermont Montpelier Veterinary Hospital Vermont Agency of Agriculture Plainfield People (VT) DigInVT #babyanimals #womeninfarming
