Sara’s #1
Shat Acres Sara ‘09, DOB 4-25-2009, Reg. #48716
On the American Highland Association's registry, it lists Sara's progeny as "None."
Sara, at age 17, is currently our oldest Highland. Why would anyone keep a cow for seventeen years, listing her as never having had a calf?
You might wonder if we are truly addled.
Not soooo fast! Remember that every Highland has a story? Shat Acres Sara is no exception. Sara was born on April 25, 2009, on Ray’s home farm in Greensboro Bend, Vt. Her dam was Shat Acres Sally 2, who lived to be 22 years old. We always called Sara’s dam, Little Sally. She was one of those enigma’s who was not a large Highland herself, but all of her offspring were big-framed cows and bulls with superb conformation. Sara was no exception.
Sara’s sire was Lance of Gordon’s Fold. Lance’s genetics were chock full of historic, heritage Scottish ancestors. Lance was our herd sire for many years and largely responsible for our fold’s long, straight top line, which Shat Acres Highlands are still known for. Lance was definitely Ray’s dad Carroll’s, favorite bull. When Carroll died at age ninety eight and a half, he wanted his ashes scattered atop the spot on the Greensboro farm where Lance had been buried several years prior.
When Little Sally birthed baby Sara, Ray and I had built the Shat Acres fold from the 30 Highlands Carroll and Leona had, to around 170 head. Our predominant farm income at that time derived from selling Greenfield Highland Beef. Due to the slow growing nature of Highland cattle and their big horns--which butchers were not enamored of--we had purchased a registered Beef Shorthorn bull to breed our Highland mommas to on the Greensboro farm.
When Sara was old enough, she was enlisted to produce Highland/ShorthornX beef animals. Like most Highland cows with excellent maternal instincts, she was good at it. Year after year she produced fast-growing F1 crossbreds for our burgeoning beef markets. Our Highland/Shorthorn animals served an important role on our farm, usually making the ultimate sacrifice generating capital to sustain and preserve Shat Acres' ancient heritage genetics--the oldest registered fold of Highland cattle in the US.
Terminal Highland/ShorthornX animals do not get registered. This explains Shat Acres Sara’s deceiving designation of "None" for offspring.
Save for our four-legged hard-working Highlands, Ray and I have never had any other employees. With both of us at the time working full time off the farm, and over a hundred animals living on and requiring chores on two farms forty miles apart, something or someone was always in the wrong place. It was inevitable that something would go terribly wrong.
And it did.
On a dark, rainy, night the phone rang at our Plainfield farm. One of our young calves had been hit by a car and killed on Rt. 16 adjacent to our farm in Greensboro Bend. During the mostly silent and hurried nighttime drive from Plainfield to Greensboro to find the mother of the calf and secure her in the barn so she did not try to find her calf on Rt 16 and suffer the same fate as her baby, we turned to each other.
“We can’t keep doing this.”
(The full story of this epiphany can be found on our website www.shatacres.com under "Our Story" Chapter 4)
It took several years to complete the process, but in November of 2024 our beloved Greensboro Bend farm was sold to the Vermont Land Trust to remain in agriculture for perpetuity.
What about hard-working Sara who was born, raised, and had produced all of her babies on the rolling and rocky fields in Greensboro Bend? Sara was already an older cow when the Greensboro farm changed hands. She had never been in a trailer, nor could we recall a time she had spent time in the barn or the squeeze chute, except perhaps when she was a young calf sixteen years prior. And her four hooves had never set foot on anything other than the Greensboro farm soil.
At age sixteen, those hooves had started moving more slowly through the lush green grass on the Greensboro farm. Sara had always been somewhat shy around people compared to some of our other Highlands. Her job was birthing, feeding, and raising babies, and she took that job seriously. While other cows clambered and sometimes pushed to be combed and paid attention to, Sara minded her own business doing what she did best. Never aggressive, and since she did had not asked for it, had never been touched.
With Sara now sixteen years old, showing signs of arthritis in one hip, shy, and a homebody, we were faced with the dilemma that Highland breeders must deal with too soon. Cows, like all animals we build relationships with and commit to care for, get older.
If only they could live forever. Ray and I decided this was not Sara’s time.
Sara, for her first time ever, stepped up into the trailer for the trip to her new home on our Plainfield farm. We were concerned the other cattle might be aggressive towards her, and with her impending arthritis we did not want her to have to walk as far for water. She would stay in a pasture near the barn. With less animals to compete with and a totally new environment, something magical happened!
Sara became a people cow.
Still patient and never pushy or aggressive, she discovered she loved to be combed. And blow dried. And pampered by Ray, Highland House Farm Stay guests, and anyone who could wield a brush or comb.
And she got bred to produce a purebred registered Highland offspring. I had Sara’s due date as July 3rd, and at 6:30 the morning of July 3rd, my phone rang.
“Bring the box. Make it quick. I need help. It’s Sara.”
Grabbing the calving toolbox ever present by the front door I sprinted to the barn. I found Sara closed into a pen in the barn.
“Has Sara ever been in the chute?” Ray asked, hunched over a bit and not looking quite like himself.
“Not that I recall.”
“Well she’s got to go into it now.”
Mentioning that her horns were ginormous (which I would find out later I did not need to remind Ray) and that I was not sure how we would get her to maneuver herself through the chute and into the headgate for perhaps her first time in seventeen years, was a moot point. Somehow, in very short order, with Ray periodically groaning and clutching his left side, Sara, with some coaxing, had accomplished just what needed to be done.
“Gloves. And chains,” came the directive.
In these situations, time is of the essence with niceties usually dispensed with.
Sometimes baby cows, like human babies, are compromised in their internal position. It is not the cow's fault, or in the case of people, the human's fault. It just sometimes happens. Correct positioning for a calf to be born are the two front feet facing down, with the nose and head nestled between the front feet, like diving into a pool. Something did not seem quite right with Sara's progression of labor and calving. With gloved hand reaching inside Sara, Ray found one front foot folded back at the knee tucked under the torso. Grabbing that foot and pulling it forward, Sara’s calf was now in perfect position.
Ray slipped a looped chain over the fetlock of one front foot and I the other. With a gentle tug Sara’s calf slid out in a heap onto the ground beside her. The delivery had been much easier than we had feared.
Still holding his side and groaning a bit, Ray said sadly, “I don’t think it’s alive.”
“Start rubbing that calf,” I shouted, running for the tote on the barn shelf loaded with clean towels. The fluttering eyelid was all the confirmation I needed. Soon the wet, slimy, little chest was going up and down, ears wiggling as if to say, “Thanks! I’m here and I made it out alive!” With navel trimmed and dunked in iodine, the Vitamin E and Selenium shot was administered.
Before reuniting Sara with her new baby, I could not resist. Gently lifting one hind leg, a grin spread over my face as my eyes teared up.
“It’s a girl. Sara has a little heifer!”
No longer will it list "None" on the registry, under Shat Acres Sara’s name. Sara, at seventeen, will have recognition of her amazing maternal success--after all these years and all her babies.
Sara’s new baby girl will be registered Shat Acres Ceres, in honor of the Greek Goddess of Agriculture and Maternal Love.
Remember the arthritis Sara began experiencing when she was sixteen? It had become increasingly pronounced in the last year, with Sara moving ever more slowly. However, she does not seem to be suffering, and as long as she stays in the pasture near the barn, is able to get sufficient food and water. She has not lost any weight. She will do a magnificent job caring for and raising baby Ceres.
Being granted dominion over animals can be a blessing and a curse. We will watch and monitor Sara. If, and when, her quality of life has diminished and she is experiencing suffering, it will be our responsibility to help her over the bridge in the most humane way possible. But let’s not think about that now.
Ol’ Sara, our current herd matriarch, is living her best life right now. We do not know if "One" will be the only number listed in the registry as progeny for Shat Acres Sara. With combs, brushes, blow drying, hands on, and most of all her beloved baby girl Ceres at her side, Sara is a contented cow. And we could not be prouder and happier having her and her new calf here in the lush, green grass of our Plainfield farm.
Remember Ray hunched over and holding his left side? Here's the rest of that story that I found out after momma Sara and baby Ceres were contentedly resting side by side in their pen in the barn. Apparently, Ray and Sara had a disagreement about her needing to be in the barn. As Ray was trying to close the gate behind her to secure Sara in the barn, so we could help her deliver her calf, she swung her head as she tried to go around the gate. As she did one of those massive appendages atop her head inadvertently caught Ray in the rib, cracking or breaking it. Although jokes will be banned around here for some time because laughing, coughing, or even breathing is excruciating until the rib heals, Ray did say that the lucky part was that Sara did not break her horn when she broke his rib.
Not all farm days are good days. And then, some are great days. Like July 3, 2026, when Shat Acres Sara blessed us with #1, her beautiful Highland heifer, Shat Acres Ceres.
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