Ranch life
I just have to spend a little time lingering over the memories of living on a working cattle ranch. I loved being in nature all day every day. Our place was situated high in the Idaho desert so we got all the seasons, and hardly any company. We were far away from civilization and I much preferred it that way.
One of my daily chores was taking care of our calves. Every week during calving season, my Grandpa and I would hook up the horse trailer and drive two hours into town. We would go to my favorite dairy farmer, Mr. Van Beek, who was from Holland, and buy all the calves that his dairy cows had birthed during the week. We would then take these calves home, hand feed them until they were old enough to be turned onto the grazing lands, and sell them a year later at the auction.
I loved Mr. Van Beek. He was tall and stout, and always had a twinkle in his eye. He had unruly white air and a wonderful accent. He always took the time to notice me and would tell me that he had some beautiful new babies for me to take home and love. I couldn't wait! Then we would go into his sprawling barns and I would be able to lay eyes on my new playmates. They were so curious and playful! I would run into their pen and as they crowded around nuzzling and sniffing, I would tell them all the fun we were going to have. These were my friends. We got along just great because they missed their Mamas as much as I missed mine.
It was on one of these trips that I met a little heifer that would become very special to me. All the other calves were the traditional Holstein colors of black and white, but this beauty was deep chocolate brown and white. She had intelligent eyes, and a white marking the shape of a backwards Nike swoosh on her soft brown forehead. She chose me immediately. I named her Ralphie. There wasn't a time that I was in the calf pasture, that Ralphie wasn't right by my side. She learned very quickly when and where the big buckets of milk were brought in for feeding time, and would wait by the gate bawling about 30 minutes prior.
I played with all the babies and every time I would go see them they would all gather round and jostle for a place close to my hands. They loved to be petted and would suck on my fingers. One had to allow this carefully and in just the right position or else their razor sharp bottom teeth would make deep cuts.
When the long, hot afternoons of summer came around and I had some free time, I would go find Ralphie and snuggle up to her as she laid in the cool grass. I would relax against her side and she would throw her head around me in a hug. I have many pictures taken of us in this position, over many happy years.
I was not disillusioned. I knew exactly where these babies would end up. But I chose not to think of that. I wanted to just live for the moment. But the older Ralphie got, and the closer she got to being turned out to pasture with her "siblings", the more I started to dread her inevitable future. I clearly remember the day that my Dad made a casual announcement at lunch time. He said "I've noticed that Ralphie is a bit small...I don't think she will bring that much at auction. I wonder if she'd make a good milk cow for us??" I leaped from my chair and gave him the biggest hug. Lunch was forgotten. I sped out of the house and into the field and danced around my little heifer telling her that she was never going to be sentenced to someone's freezer. I also soberly told her that to accomplish this, we were going to have to find her a husband. But I told her not to worry, that part would be over really quickly and she would be safe as could be from going to auction.
When Ralphie was old enough, we put her in a pasture about 1/2 a mile from the house with the other expectant 1st-calf heifers that we intended to use for beef cows. These were Hereford and Angus cattle and would be breeder cows that would make up our cow-calf pairs. Ralphie was the only Holstein in the bunch. I worried that she would be picked on because she looked different than the rest. Not so, she made friends easily and I could always spot her grazing right in the middle of a group of her girlfriends. I would walk into the field and whistle for her. Her head would pop up amongst the sea of brown and black and she would bellow and race towards me with her tail held high. She was such a blessing!
One day, about two months before her due date, my Grandpa drove into the yard with some bad news. "I think Ralphie dropped her calf," he said. "She's by the gate, looking for you." I hopped on the motorcycle and raced down the road. There by the pasture gate was my little sad cow. Her head drooped way down low. When she saw me she let out a strangled moo and pushed her head against the barbed wire of the fence. I couldn't get through that fence fast enough. I ran to her and just held her. She was so deeply sad. We both cried. I stayed with her for a few hours until my Dad drove by. I asked if I could take her close by the house so I could be with her more. She had been pregnant long enough to produce milk I thought. So he tossed me a rope and I led her home to the pasture where she had been raised. It was a long, sad walk.
My folks said that Ralphie imprinted all her Mother instincts onto me and it seemed so. Our relationship changed from buddies, to her treating me like her lost little calf. She would stand by the gate close to milking time and moo that soft low moo that Mother cows use for their babies. I would run out with my one-legged milking stool and bucket and pockets full of oats and she would stand quietly while I milked her. Then it was time for my bath. She would lick me up one side and down the other with her sandpaper tongue. She was such a love! She would talk to me and nuzzle me the whole time.
Ralphie went on to live for years at the ranch. I had to go away to go to school at one point and my Grandpa told me that he used her to step mother all the babies whose own Mamas rejected them for one reason or another. She never did let anyone else milk her, but settled right into her role as surrogate mama cow.
I believe that God watches all that goes on. I think he saw a lonely little girl, and paired her with a lonely little calf, and orchestrated a beautiful friendship that makes me smile to this day. I really believe in my heart of hearts that we will see our treasured pets in heaven some day. I can't wait to run up to Ralphie in a big green pasture and make up for lost time. :)
Make it a great day!
One of my daily chores was taking care of our calves. Every week during calving season, my Grandpa and I would hook up the horse trailer and drive two hours into town. We would go to my favorite dairy farmer, Mr. Van Beek, who was from Holland, and buy all the calves that his dairy cows had birthed during the week. We would then take these calves home, hand feed them until they were old enough to be turned onto the grazing lands, and sell them a year later at the auction.
I loved Mr. Van Beek. He was tall and stout, and always had a twinkle in his eye. He had unruly white air and a wonderful accent. He always took the time to notice me and would tell me that he had some beautiful new babies for me to take home and love. I couldn't wait! Then we would go into his sprawling barns and I would be able to lay eyes on my new playmates. They were so curious and playful! I would run into their pen and as they crowded around nuzzling and sniffing, I would tell them all the fun we were going to have. These were my friends. We got along just great because they missed their Mamas as much as I missed mine.
It was on one of these trips that I met a little heifer that would become very special to me. All the other calves were the traditional Holstein colors of black and white, but this beauty was deep chocolate brown and white. She had intelligent eyes, and a white marking the shape of a backwards Nike swoosh on her soft brown forehead. She chose me immediately. I named her Ralphie. There wasn't a time that I was in the calf pasture, that Ralphie wasn't right by my side. She learned very quickly when and where the big buckets of milk were brought in for feeding time, and would wait by the gate bawling about 30 minutes prior.
I played with all the babies and every time I would go see them they would all gather round and jostle for a place close to my hands. They loved to be petted and would suck on my fingers. One had to allow this carefully and in just the right position or else their razor sharp bottom teeth would make deep cuts.
When the long, hot afternoons of summer came around and I had some free time, I would go find Ralphie and snuggle up to her as she laid in the cool grass. I would relax against her side and she would throw her head around me in a hug. I have many pictures taken of us in this position, over many happy years.
I was not disillusioned. I knew exactly where these babies would end up. But I chose not to think of that. I wanted to just live for the moment. But the older Ralphie got, and the closer she got to being turned out to pasture with her "siblings", the more I started to dread her inevitable future. I clearly remember the day that my Dad made a casual announcement at lunch time. He said "I've noticed that Ralphie is a bit small...I don't think she will bring that much at auction. I wonder if she'd make a good milk cow for us??" I leaped from my chair and gave him the biggest hug. Lunch was forgotten. I sped out of the house and into the field and danced around my little heifer telling her that she was never going to be sentenced to someone's freezer. I also soberly told her that to accomplish this, we were going to have to find her a husband. But I told her not to worry, that part would be over really quickly and she would be safe as could be from going to auction.
When Ralphie was old enough, we put her in a pasture about 1/2 a mile from the house with the other expectant 1st-calf heifers that we intended to use for beef cows. These were Hereford and Angus cattle and would be breeder cows that would make up our cow-calf pairs. Ralphie was the only Holstein in the bunch. I worried that she would be picked on because she looked different than the rest. Not so, she made friends easily and I could always spot her grazing right in the middle of a group of her girlfriends. I would walk into the field and whistle for her. Her head would pop up amongst the sea of brown and black and she would bellow and race towards me with her tail held high. She was such a blessing!
One day, about two months before her due date, my Grandpa drove into the yard with some bad news. "I think Ralphie dropped her calf," he said. "She's by the gate, looking for you." I hopped on the motorcycle and raced down the road. There by the pasture gate was my little sad cow. Her head drooped way down low. When she saw me she let out a strangled moo and pushed her head against the barbed wire of the fence. I couldn't get through that fence fast enough. I ran to her and just held her. She was so deeply sad. We both cried. I stayed with her for a few hours until my Dad drove by. I asked if I could take her close by the house so I could be with her more. She had been pregnant long enough to produce milk I thought. So he tossed me a rope and I led her home to the pasture where she had been raised. It was a long, sad walk.
My folks said that Ralphie imprinted all her Mother instincts onto me and it seemed so. Our relationship changed from buddies, to her treating me like her lost little calf. She would stand by the gate close to milking time and moo that soft low moo that Mother cows use for their babies. I would run out with my one-legged milking stool and bucket and pockets full of oats and she would stand quietly while I milked her. Then it was time for my bath. She would lick me up one side and down the other with her sandpaper tongue. She was such a love! She would talk to me and nuzzle me the whole time.
Ralphie went on to live for years at the ranch. I had to go away to go to school at one point and my Grandpa told me that he used her to step mother all the babies whose own Mamas rejected them for one reason or another. She never did let anyone else milk her, but settled right into her role as surrogate mama cow.
I believe that God watches all that goes on. I think he saw a lonely little girl, and paired her with a lonely little calf, and orchestrated a beautiful friendship that makes me smile to this day. I really believe in my heart of hearts that we will see our treasured pets in heaven some day. I can't wait to run up to Ralphie in a big green pasture and make up for lost time. :)
Make it a great day!
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