Tag Archives: cows

440’s Daughter

IMG_0130

Since she was a calf in 2012, I’ve had high hopes for the all-red cow (2092), now babysitting our first Vintage Angus calves on the irrigated pasture. A spitting image of her mother, she is demonstrating the same strong, maternal traits as her mother.

Separated from her first calf, a Wagyu X in 2010, by a series of events I can only imagine that had to include a high-speed ATV chase when she strayed onto the neighbors to be run through two barbed wire fences, 440 was finally reunited with her calf after we picked her up at another neighbor’s corrals at the behest of the brand inspector ten days later.

Drying up, she had obviously had a calf, but local details were skimpy. All we could do was bring her home and put her back into the same hillside pasture she had come from, hoping the two might get back together, though we hadn’t seen her calf. We were fairly certain that if she found it alive, the best she could offer was companionship. Three days later, I saw the two together, and unbelievably, she had come back into her milk. 440 is a legend on this ranch, epitomizing the strong hormones and maternal instincts we choose to develop instead of just beefy carcasses. After all, we’re in the business of raising cows that can raise a baby.

I’ve already checked, her week-old, red calf in the grass is a bull. But we’re hoping for at least 20 replacement heifers from last year’s Vintage bulls and this bunch of second-calf heifers.

 

PRIVATE MOMENT

IMG_0094

 

Deep in the Blue Oaks,
the caress of a mother’s tongue
begins new life.

 

 

Resilience

IMG_0082

The Sycamore Alluvial Woodland (Platanus racemosa) on Dry Creek is one of 17 stands over 10 acres remaining in the world and the largest in the Sierra Nevada ecoregion despite the downstream impacts due to gravel mining. Other impacts from reservoirs, recreation and stream channelization have substantially reduced the population of this plant community statewide. Despite a century of grazing and the current drought, new growth from the remains of an old sycamore stump in this photo demonstrates the amazing resilience of this species. Photo: August 31, 2014

First Wagyu X 2014

IMG_0088

Close to the house, we’ve been checking the first-calf heifers daily as they get closer to calving. Typically, we don’t have much trouble because the Wagyu X come small, but there is always some drama, especially with the very first calves.

Some followers might recall last year’s first Wagyu X calf that arrived two weeks early that we eventually lost because its mother spent more time with the other heifers rather than with its calf, her social needs greater than her maternal traits. We keep the heifers in two separate pastures where each herd develops its own social dynamics. The transition from ‘one of the girls’ to motherhood varies from heifer to heifer, and occasionally, when no one else has a calf, the comfort of the herd becomes a priority.

In particular this past week, we have been watching four heifers that are extremely close. Early yesterday morning, number one arrived to 3024. She had placed the calf in a barbed wire corner, and we found them with her on one side of the fence and the calf on the other, an open gate between nearby. The heifer had obviously been sucked and the calf was healthy as we watched the heifer navigate the gate to her calf. All seemed well.

Our presence brought a dozen heifers, thinking hay, off the hill. They all drank at the trough and filed through the gate towards the feed grounds to join the others, our new mother trailing behind them, leaving her calf alone. Concerned, we followed at a distance around the hill only to see she had turned around and was coming back. Good, so we got out of the way of nature.

An hour later while checking the first-calf heifers on the other side of the road, I noticed she had returned to join the bunch. Mid-afternoon, Robbin saw her returning towards her calf. An hour or so before dark, I thought I ought to check on the new pair. I could see the calf at a distance in the same barbed wire corner, but no mother around. Assuming she had abandoned her calf for the comfort of the bunch again, I looked for her there and checked the other heifers at the same time. She was not among them. So I returned to the area of the calf, making a big circle, only to spot the mother grazing in the Blue Oaks about 100 yards above the calf.

By the time I had gotten back to the house, the main bunch was leisurely following in the direction by which I had left, towards the calf and the eventual crowd around it—not exactly what I wanted. Though the instinctual transition from ‘one of the girls’ to motherhood can be awe-inspiring, oftentimes our presence as midwives detracts from the process and can interfere with the necessary bonding time between mother and baby, a fine line to walk.

Today is a normal feed day, an opportunity to stay out of the way and assess them all again.

 

 

Fresh Calves

IMG_0063

 

Two fresh calves came yesterday afternoon sired by our young Vintage Angus bulls from second-calf heifers 2075 & 2030.

 

IMG_0067

 

Off and running, our new year has begun!

 

AUGUST 2014

IMG_0004

 

Stepping back from our routines of irrigating, checking stockwater and increased feeding, August has been a delightful month, cooler overall than average. It feels like an early fall. Our cows are bred to start calving next month, and more than ever we’re excited to get on with the next phase of this business, another beginning of a new cycle as we approach our rainy season, described by an early California historian as that time when it might rain.

Two years of drought has forced us to reduce our cowherd by 40%, leaving less cows to supplement with hay, less four-wheel drive excursions into our upper country with expensive alfalfa. As a result, we have reduced the average age of our cows, focusing on the maternal traits of our most recent genetics as the core of our herd. We’re excited to get started and see the calves.

As always, we head into calving blind, not knowing what circumstances the weather will create, and not even knowing whether our reduced calf crop will generate enough to cover our future expenses—a true gamble, daily investing ourselves and all we have for an unknown payday—not exactly what I was taught in business school!

But it’s what we do, it seems, year in and year out, trying to make ranch improvements as we go just to make life easier as we get older. We’re ready for the calves and ready for some October rain to put this drought behind us.

 

First Calf 2014

IMG_8839

Welcome silhouettes in these two photographs, albeit ten days earlier than expected, of our first calf of the season delivered by 0075 on the Paregien Ranch. In past years, we have documented our first calf on this blog to jog our memories and as part of the “Age and Source” verification process when we advertise our calves for sale. Robbin and I went up the hill Sunday morning to check stockwater and to feed the girls, delighted to see this strong, healthy calf. Our year has begun once more.

IMG_8866

 

 

WPC(2 & 3) — “Silhouette”

EVENING

First-calf heifers, tired from the drive
over hill and dale across the creek
to the corrals, sorted and fly sprayed

before their new home plied with alfalfa,
maternity wards bare as human baby’s derrière
in the flats, but with hair yet on the hillsides—

and a few old girls to show them how-in-hell
to get there. Out from under sycamores,
they work the shadow of the ridge in bunches,

stop and look, a few paces at a time,
inspecting distances, not knowing yet
how far they’ll have to go to stay here.

 

Ides of August

P7120018

These girls are two weeks away from calving as we begin a new season with little feed and less water, but we’re optimistic nonetheless, looking forward to a little rain and green grass.

THE TROUBLE WITH DRONES

IMG_2619

 

The Red Tails lift and glide above me,
circling our gather within oak trees, chemise
and fractured granite that hasn’t moved

for centuries on this mountain. One of few
humans they know, I have wished
upon their wings and eye, like a falconer,

to inform, to lead me to what I can’t see
grazing peacefully. Someday, maybe—
or resort to drones to do my bidding,

watch the calving, check feed and water,
be on patrol for coyotes and bears,
instead of me. But who would we be,

streaming sci-fi cowboy poetry? Who
would ever know enough to welcome us
into this other world, their home?