“Highlands, like elephants, never forget.”
“Why did you drop him on his head? Why would you do that?” came the indignant cry from my grandson.
Our last calf of the 2024 season was due on July 5th. On July 3, 2024, I knew something was not right with how labor was progressing for Shat Acres Raisin Tart.
(for the full story, search "Phoenix Rising" or scroll back to January 30, 2025)
That afternoon, I made the call. "Ray, something is not right with Tart. I think you should put her in the chute and check her out. We need to see what is going on.”
Easy for me to say. I’m not the one who has to maneuver a 1500 lb. cow with giant horns into the chute and through the head-gate. And I’m not the one who has to stick my arm up to my shoulder into Tart’s privates to do the internal exam. With those tasks completed, Ray realized we had a crisis. The calf had moved into the birth canal, but Tart had not dilated and was making no effort to push the calf out. With the amount of time that had already passed, there was precious little time to help Tart birth her calf. We knew that even if we could get the calf out, with the delayed birth it might not survive.
“We’ve got to get the calf out! And we’ve got to get it out now! Get the calving kit!”
I rushed to the house to get the calving kit, running back to the barn as fast as I could. Ray had already donned the shoulder length yellow glove and was about to dive back inside Tart. Things were happening at a rapid pace and there was loud and probably less than genteel conversation between us. Ray directed me to apply lubricant and stretch the opening of the vulva enabling room for the calf to pass through. Ray was desperately reaching for the calf's feet, looping and applying chains before the calf pulled its feet farther back inside.
Delivering a calf is always stressful.
It was in the midst of frantically trying to get the calf out quickly that our company arrived. With the somewhat traumatized observers watching from the other side of the gate, the long struggle ended with a whoosh and a gush of amniotic fluid. Tart’s calf was finally freed from the womb where it had been held hostage for just over nine months.
And it landed on its head.
The correct position for a calf to exit its momma is with the two front feet framing the face, as if diving into a pool. This calf, though stuck for hours inside a cow that had not had the normal progression of labor, was thankfully in the correct position. When a cow needs assistance delivering her baby while standing in a squeeze chute, after the front feet and head clear the opening, hips and hind legs follow in quick succession.
Descending in rapid fashion, the calf lands headfirst.
Which can be upsetting for observers to see.
Tart’s calf had been trapped in the birth canal, struggling to be born for several hours. When the calf entered the world, it was coated with tar like, viscous, mustard-colored meconium, which is the earliest stool from a mammal. This should occur after the calf is outside the womb. Because the calf had been squeezed so long in the birth canal it occurred inside the cow instead of outside. Being coated with meconium can portend a less than successful outcome for the calf. If the calf ingests or breathes in the meconium it can be fatal.
The calf was moved from behind the squeeze chute to the pen. Lying flat on its side in the clean straw, we rubbed the newborn vigorously with towels. We cleaned mouth and nostrils of the meconium and then rolled it upright onto its legs. And then we saw it. That little rib cage moved in and out as the calf sucked in his first breaths. Calves are incredibly resilient, and though exhausted from the birth ordeal, this calf was alive. A few minutes later it shook its head and ears as if to say, "Here I am!" Momma Tart and calf were united. Tart began licking her calf vigorously and mooing to it, inspiring it to stand and get its first milk. After 45 minutes, with all health checks and tasks completed and gender determined, that little fellow who waited so long for his entrance to the world, was standing on wobbly legs.
And soon was drinking colostrum!
Although the majority of Highland calvings are uneventful, some are not. Phoenix’s arrival was one of those that required our immediate intervention to save the life of the calf and his mother, Shat Acres Raisin Tart.
Because the new calf was red, my daughter named him "Phoenix." And, because we were so happy to see him struggle and then accomplish getting up onto four legs, we dubbed him "Phoenix Rising."
That was Then. Sixteen months after the traumatic arrival of Phoenix, this is Now.
Shat Acres Raisin Phoenix DOB 7-3-24 Reg. 70133, combines the best of Shat Acres, Skye High, and Scottish genetics: Shat Acres Raisin Tart x Skye High Glen Rock. Phoenix's dam, Shat Acres Raisin Tart, is Shat Acres Cinnamon Raisin x Shat Acres Cinnamon Bear.
The first week in November 2025, Shat Acres Raisin Phoenix returned home for the winter from the summer pasture where he had spent the previous six months. Hanging out with his big buddies, Highland steers Rob and Roy, Phoenix must have taken seriously the task of emulating each of twins Rob and Roy’s 2000 lb. + size. He had gotten big, really big.
With not having been touched for all of those six months while munching away in a neighbor's pasture, Phoenix jumped gracefully out of our trailer onto his home turf. The first thing that astounded us was his size. Although we check on "the boys" every day, and had fed apples and carrots to them with our Highland House Farm Stay guests all the summer, next to Rob and Roy it was hard to see just how much weight Phoenix had put on.
Shat Acres Highland cattle do not get any grain or supplements other than minerals. Our Highlands are genetically designed to grow and thrive without grain, cubes, or any other treats. (Except apples and carrots for Rob and Roy and their lucky pasture mates) We use regenerative, rotational, intensive cell grazing in our pastures to increase the quantity and quality of the grass our cattle eat. The hay Ray makes for our winter feed is from fields improved by spreading manure and wood ash. We depend on healthy soils and high-quality grass and hay to keep our Highlands healthy, thriving, and in excellent condition.
The second notable and pleasant surprise was that crowd pleaser, baby Phoenix, had not forgotten any of the care, combing, and TLC he had received during his traumatic birth, weeklong barn stay after his arrival, nor patient halter training at six months of age.
Highland cattle remember smells, voices, touches, and demeanors of their humans who nurtured them, no matter when or how long ago it occurred. Despite his massive long, straight, frame, and thickly muscled body Phoenix remains the gentle baby inside that he always was.
Highlands, like elephants, never forget.
Then and Now. Shat Acres Raisin Phoenix arrived with a thud, landing headfirst, but just like then, Phoenix is still a rising star.