Some women swear by water births. I do not have an opinion on this subject, but we do have one cow that seems to prefer them. For the second year, she has had her calf in the ice-cold creek. And, for the second year we have had to fight to keep the calf alive.
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A few nights ago, Matthew went out just before 11 p.m. to check the cows before calling it a night. He walked through the pastures with a flashlight, checking for new calves and looking for suspicious behavior indicating that a cow was close to having her calf. He found a weak and cold calf in the creek.
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I knew something was wrong when Matthew was gone for an hour. I was in bed, reading and praying that everything was ok. I head a cow bawling in the pasture and could see Matthew's light glowing in the darkness of the night. I was thankful to be lying in our warm bed, in our quiet, comfortable home. But I was ready to turn out the light and slumber until morning as soon as Matthew returned to the house.
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At about midnight I heard the basement door and got up to see if everything was ok. Matthew was taking off his coveralls and my suspicions were confirmed when he pointed to the weak calf on the basement floor. Sweat was dripping from his head, proving to me that it had taken great effort to get the calf out of the creek and up to the house.
We got to work on the calf. Matthew grabbed towels (don't worry -- not our good bath towels. We have "calf" towels!!) and started to dry the wet and muddy calf. I got the blow dryer and worked quickly to dry and warm the ice-cold calf. The calf could barely lift its head and its eyes were rolling back into its head. Every once in a while, he kicked weakly, and threw his head back. The poor calf moaned, and seemed to strain to breath. I knew we might lose this calf. Despite all the work you put into saving a calf born on a bitter, cold night, sometimes you can't do enough.
For an hour and a half, we worked. We dried the calf. We put him on a soft blanket and covered it, blowing warm air into the blanket. We set up a space heater to warm the cool basement air. Matthew positioned and re-positioned the weak calf as it fell over. We propped it up against the deep freeze. And, finally, at 1:30 a.m. we said a prayer and came upstairs to get some rest. There was really no more we could do.
I never really sleep well when there is a calf in the basement, and I am sure Matthew doesn't either. Sometimes I can't sleep because they are too loud -- bawling to be with their mother. Sometimes I can't sleep because they are too quiet and I know they didn't make it. This calf was just right!! Every once in a while I would wake to hear it kick the freezer, or stumble into something. It wasn't an irritating sound that kept us awake, but just enough to reassure us that it was alive.
So, when we got up four and a half hours later, the calf was stumbling around, but standing fairly steadily. The girls rushed down to admire the newborn before Matthew reunited him with his mother.
Every saved calf is an answered prayer!!
