It’s calving season.  Cows have that look in their eyes.  The look that all females get at this stage of pregnancy.  The look that says, “this was fun for a while, now get this damn thing out of me.”  Most of my spring cows have that look.  They’re edgy.  They’re gripey.  They eat quietly as they give the bull the evil eye.  He knows not to look at them.  He eats with his eyes closed making himself as innocuous as possible.  He doesn’t have one female to placate.  He has over thirty.  I don’t envy  him at this time of the year.  The heifers look especially angry.  They were once young and full of energy.  Now they’re heavy and hungry.  They don’t buck and prance like they did a mere eight months ago.  They drag themselves up to the trough and eat forlorn, their innocence lost.
Some cows have calved.  There are black streaks running through the pasture as calves less than a week old test out their speed and jumping skills.  Their mothers’ are at the troughs chatting and bragging about how fast junior is and how he can drink milk by the gallons, or how he has his daddy’s eyes.  These cows are happy.  The are excited about spring being in the air.  They chat about the tender shoots of grass that are pushing up all over the pasture and how warm the nights have been.  Occasionally one of them will get kicked or butted by a still pregnant cow.  Even that doesn’t dampen their spirits.  There are differences in the cows who have had their calves as well.
The oldest cow in the herd had a calf the same day as a young heifer.  Both cows had no problem.  The calves were healthy and the mothers came through it easily.  About the third day of the new calves lives I noticed a marked difference in the behavior of the two cows.  I drove the tractor over to check the old cows baby and it jumped up and run like a flash through the pasture.  It’s mother was eating hay and watched without concern as I tried to chase the calf back in the direction of it’s mother.  I finally succeeded in getting it turned around and heading back toward the herd.  It blasted past them and kept running.  I gave up on it.  If it’s mother  isn’t concerned why should I be.  Immediately I went to check the heifers calf.  I got too close to it and it jumped and ran like a flash.  However, its mother came running and bawling.  She chased and caught it and comforted it.  Then she turned to me and starting yelling at me.  I waved sorry to her and left the pasture.  I was proud of her for being so protective and I wondered if the old cow’s calf was going to be alright.  Later that day both cows had their calves with them.  No harm no foul.  It reminded me of when a young couple has their first child and they are worried and protective.  They dote and make sure everything is perfect, safe, and clean.  By their second or third child that same couple act just as the old cow does.  They know everything will be alright.  Just relax and let the child eat the dog tick it picked off of the dog.  It’s good for their immune system.  Makes it stronger.
I was telling this story to a very nice person who doesn’t raise cattle.  She was saying “awe” and “that’s nice.”  Then she asked a question that perplexed me at first.  She asked “what did you name them?”  Say what?  What did I name them?  So I came up with a typical smart ass reply.  I told her I named them T-bone, sirloin, roast, and whopper.  She looked shocked and horrified.  I guess it’s understandable though.  We sometimes name a cow.   A cow will be around for a while.  Calves however, are walking cheese burgers.  You can’t name calves.  You’re not going to know them for long.  They’re will be no tearful goodbyes in the fall when they are hauled to the stock yards and sold.  Their destiny is to become food.  You do not name your steak before you eat it.  That’s too weird.  How does Betsy taste mom?  Damn Betsy was cooked perfectly.  No, it’s not what you should do.  Never name cheeseburgers on the hoof.