I missed my, self imposed, writing deadline this weekend. For good reason, but disappointing nonetheless. I was at that point on Friday morning of feeling under the weather, noticed the early signs and the need to cancel all engagements and take a much needed day of rest. It was going well for the first hour as my husband was assigned the school run and I cancelled yoga. Then the phone rang; a calf had been born in the field overnight and wasn’t doing at all well. Its mother was with the rest of the herd and had left it, giving up hope. We don’t know how long it had been there but it was wet, cold and struggling to hang on to life. That was the end of my restful day. Up, dressed and heading to get some cow colostrum from the farm supplies, not knowing if I would get back in time and in my urgent, harassed state that was entirely calf-focused, I frustratingly forgot to get all the other things I needed from that store.

Arriving back I made up a small amount of colostrum and headed out to the field, where she was being cradled and dried with hay by Jack. Still cold and shaking, I tried to get some colostrum down her throat but she really wasn’t keen and did all she could to avoid the plastic teat being forced into her mouth. The suck reflex was not there so she then had to have it squeezed into her throat for her which she equally disliked and resisted, making the milk spew out all over the place. Knowing her best chance of survival was for the mum to take her, I wanted to stay in the field, but she was clearly too cold, so we brought her into the warm office in an attempt to raise her body temperature. Whilst she was warming up inside, Jack and I got the rest of the herd into the barn so that we could try to get some of the colostrum off her mother, which would be full of all the antibodies and nutrients the little calf needed, and hopefully would be more appealing than the stuff out of the packet.

I was still feeling slightly weak but the adrenaline had pushed back most of the feelings of being unwell and the day was focused on keeping the calf alive. Getting the first-time mum cow, into the crush to safely hold her still while trying to get the colostrum and milk off her was a challenge but eventually she calmed down enough to understand and realise we were on her side. These conservation breed cattle aren’t massive milk producers so I was happy that we managed to get about half a pint of thick, yellow, custard-like, colostrum into a pyrex jug to take back to the calf, and the mum seemed happy to release the build up in her udder, giving her the much needed hormonal hit of calming oxytocin.

By now it was the afternoon and we still hadn’t got much fluid into the little calf and that is the most urgent thing: to get as much colostrum into the calf within about 6 hours is critical to its survival. So tipping about a teaspoons worth at a time into her mouth and waiting for her to swallow it took a long time and I spilt or she spat out an awful lot; we were both covered in a sticky, smelly, yellow mess, but she was at least taking some and not fighting it like she had the formula feed. Luckily, for us and the calf, a farming friend dropped by to see how she was getting on. He took one look at her gums, which I too had noticed, were a dark red, and told me that was a sign of septicaemia. That explained her weakness, rapid breathing and lack of appetite too and made complete sense but I hadn’t known the reason for dark red gums. So my next quick dash was off to the livestock vet to get some antibiotics, and fast.

We got the antibiotics into her as well as some anti-inflammatories and kept her warm. She got moved into our kitchen as we knew we would be up all night monitoring and trying to get more colostrum down her reluctant throat. Then as often as we could, getting mum back into the crush to take off more good milk for the calf created a busy weekend. I still hadn’t had time to be ill but the virus lurked in the background waiting for its opportunity to take hold. Thankfully, my son took the night shifts with the calf which at least gave me the chance to sleep well, and I did the early morning shifts. Slowly her strength improved, her gums lightened to become more pink and she started to drink more. Each time her fluids went up, she improved and got stronger, but if she refused to drink, which she often did, she went backwards again and became more listless. I was hugely excited when she did her first wee, despite the fact that it was all over the kitchen floor and the same again for her first poo. At least her organs were working and she was passing something, despite the mess it made!

6 days later and she is back with mum, who surprisingly maintained her maternal instinct and didn’t once want to reject her. We brought the calf to her daily and I am sure that helped, but we were delighted the day the calf worked out how to feed by herself. It took me squeezing milk all over her face while we forced her to look in the direction of the udder for her to manage it, but she worked out where her own milk supply came from in the end, and eventually had the strength to get it for herself. What a joyous relief that day was; watching her stand to go and get her own milk yesterday was the best feeling of relief and happiness. I am utterly shattered with the time and energy that week took, but it was worth every single bit and I am so grateful for all the help and guidance that got her there. I hope she remains as tame as she has been, although I don’t want her in the house again. I still have a lot of cleaning to do in that kitchen, and I really must find some time to rest…