One With Nature

Do you ever feel one with the world? One with nature? At peace with all that surrounds you, almost as if you could step out onto the porch, reach your arms out, have a few little birds perch on them, squirrels nuzzle at your ankles and maybe even understand what the rabbits are saying?

Nah, me either. That's only in Disney movies, right?

However, today, I felt sympathetic with our mama cows. Joe is weaning the calves, as they are big enough to be solely fed by pasture and hay. Just as a mother weans her baby, these calves need to be on their own, will be fine, but the mamas, I'm not so sure about.

The weaning process is a little different from what I read when I was expecting our first child. In the Breastfeeding Resource Handbook (otherwise known as a book to make you feel inadequate if you a) didn't nurse your children or b)wanted to ever wean ever), the authors suggested a joint decision with your child about weaning. No date, no age, no time line...just let it happen. Well, if you've ever nursed a one-year old...it's kind of hard to have an honest, open discussion about nursing.

I'm digressing.

Anyway, so weaning calves is a little bit science and a lot of just separation, from the way I see it...rather, hear it from my window. Joe notes the size, age, etc. of the calves, and by the sign of the moon and the Farmer's Almanac, he then decides which days each set of calves will be weaned.

Seems easy enough, right?

Except for the fact that you have to move the cows, separating them from the calves, or vice versa, to a completely separate pasture, and then keep each set of cattle from looking for one another.

And what does a mom do when she can't see her child?

She yells.

She hollers.

She BELLOWS.

So, this is what we have been listening to since last night. Our mama cows across the road are looking for their babies, feeling the pain of sore udders, and wondering what the heck is going on.

I feel so sorry for them. I'm so lame, I know, but I can't help but wonder what those mamas are thinking. They can't find their babies. They are in pain. I want to go over there and tell them the calves are just a little ways away, but, unlike my Disney-fied nature girl version of myself, I don't speak cow.

The beauty of cattle, however, is that after a day or so, they'll all be fine. The calves will continue to frolic in the pasture, now growing bigger and stronger on grass and hay. The mamas will be reunited, sort of, with the babies in a while, but will not have reuniting like a movie, running through the pasture to their long lost babies...more like a "Hey! Where you been?" moment, and then move on to their next patch of grass.

For now, I'll listen to the mamas and feel sorry for them. I wonder when I will get used to and quit feeling sorry for the cattle at this time of year. Maybe never. However, in a few days, like the cattle, I'll note the silence and shoo away the birds, squirrels and rabbits on my way out the door!

By the Sign

Things are going to get noisy here in a few days. Joe is getting ready to wean calves, and both parties (mama and calves) will not be excited. The bawling, constant and loud, will commence once these little guys and gals realize what's going on. I could not be more excited, considering I have a sleeping toddler whose bedroom is directly across from this noisy pasture. However, I have no choice, because the sign said to start, and that's all there is to it.

Seriously, we go by the elusive "sign." Joe is very cutting edge in other aspects of both the cattle and grain operations of our farm. We use GPS systems to navigate both the planting and harvesting processes; Joe receives grain market updates via text message, and there's something about a micro chip in our purebred cattle, I think. . . either we have that going, or it's coming (need to research that more!), among other things. However, when it comes to processes such as weaning, Joe heads to the good ol' Farmer's Almanac.

Unlike my father-in-law, we don't have the paperback edition. Instead, to make this old-timey farming tradition more Generation-X, Joe heads to the online version. Just by clicking, you can not only find out what days are the best day to wean, cut hair to retard growth, etc., but you can also take a Smartphone Survey and get a "free almanac collection of charts and guides."

Honestly? Does this seem for real? You're basing a decision off the sign of the moon, but you're getting it sent to your smartphone? To me, it seems a little off, but that's farming: mixing the old timey with the cutting edge.

I guess that's what makes farming appealing to all walks of life. We still do some chore work and unloading of grain with my dad's old John Deere 4020 he bought in the 60s and then re-bought (something my dad tends to do . . . ask him about my college car that he bought twice.). However, our combine and most of the other new tractors can drive themselves with the help of Autotrack steering. This allowed me to make a huge farm wife mistake in my first season of this gig. . . thinking that Autotrack would allow Joe to eat shrimp pasta for supper while he cut beans. Just because the tractor drives itself doesn't mean the farmer is up there playing solitaire on his laptop or watching a DVD. The guys still have to pay attention.

Regardless, the juxtaposition of old and new makes farming something that has and will stand the test of time. New farmers will come and embrace the technology, teaching the older ones. . .much like teaching my grandparents how to run their satellite TV remote. However, the more mature farmers will know that trends come and go, but going back to what has withstood all the trendy technology is some times the best.

For now, I'll wait for that blessed day when the sun, moon, and stars all align and shut my windows, as to not hear the bawling calves.