Still warm and wonderful but need some rain. Is that the story of the day over and over again? We can change that a little bit, add some interesting thoughts and maybe even some answers to the perplexing questions that a cattleman might come upon.
We bought a young heifer at a sale in Texas 13 years ago. She was not of the desired line and she was sorta big boned, but I liked her head and she stood solid. She was about the least expensive of the whole sale and we were happy with the purchase. We hauled her home and turned her into a producing machine!
She has delivered some of the best we have weaned on this place and we didn't AI her until three years ago. I am not that fortunate most of the time, so I suspect that the good Lord was treating me to a big blessing that day! We named her Ada because I knew a female farrier out in New Mexico that was big boned. Old Ada, the cow, delivered calves quickly and never asked for any assistance.
Yesterday I saw Ada limping. She is bred to calve in late February and I was taken with surprise to see her unsound. I called the bunch into a pen in the corner of the pasture with a bucket of cubes and she allowed me to keep her as the rest trickled out. Her left leg was not swollen, picked her leg like a horse and nothing in the hoof. Ada continued to munch on cubes and I could find absolutely no reason for her misery.
There were two little scuffs on her knee like she had knelt on a rock getting up. I brought her to the house and this morning she is just the same. Who out there knows what in the heck to do for this old cow? My close relative suggested I give Ada an injection of antibiotic, feed her good and turn her back out. My thought as well, but remember that I am 13 years taken with this old cow. Beef producers have to make the decisions they hate almost every day but not today for me.
I am calling the vet. Not just any vet but the one that retired a couple of years ago and had more feelings for a bovine than any I have ever known. I called his number, have his personal cell number in my little black book, and the message was not what I wanted to hear. He had gone to a conference in Oregon and would be home sometime later. Called the regular vet. He is also sharp, likes cattle, and did I say sharp? By this time I was getting upset and the patience I am supposed to have was being used up.
The lady at the clinic said he was on a farm call and she would send him as soon as possible. That did it. I am a mess because I hate waiting. Ada munched on the good alfalfa hay and rolled her eyes at me when I walked by on the way to the house. She was down and resting as she munched, looked comfortable in the clean shavings in the sick stall. I am wishing I was as calm as she is.
It is my opinion, and everyone has one, it really does not matter who your daddy is, how much money you have, what kind of truck you drive or if you wear a Stetson hat, misfortune does not care. You might be a wealthy CEO and your tires can go flat just like mine. You can have the electricity go off in a storm or a tornado hit your home just like the rest of us! I wonder if a wealthy man would whine and carry on like a little girl if he was waiting on a vet to doctor one of his best cows?
Oil your guns, I heard armadillos are gathering up and heading north from Mexico!
Bill is the pen name used by the Gravette-area author of this weekly column. Opinions expressed are those of the author.
Editorial on 11/09/2016