Last Saturday (May 30), our heifer Rosy gave birth.

Right now Rosy is our bull Samson's pen-mate. Bulls are quite good with calves so we had no compunctions leaving Rosy with him, even though she was so close to her due date.


I watched her closely for several days as her due date ticked closer, and when her udder started bagging up, I knew her time was near. This is Rosy's first calf, so I wanted to be vigilant.


Mid-afternoon on Saturday I heard a yell from the feed lot and knew Rosy was in labor. I closed the bull into the bull pen (to his annoyance) -- not because I feared he would hurt the baby, but because I didn't want to worry about watching my back if I had to help Rosy. Samson is very good-tempered for a bull, but we can never forget he's a bull.


By the time I got there, Rosy already had two little front hooves out. Unlike poor Amy's breach birth of her calf Hector, front hooves coming out first is a good sign.


The contractions came and went. Sometimes Rosy heaved to her feet, sometimes she laid down. But it took her a long time to get past those little hooves.


Cows get a very preoccupied look on their face when birthing. It's like they're seeing inward, not outward.


Here's a strong contraction.


Still no progress.


Contraction...


...relax.


When a strong contraction hit, Rosy would groan and yell in pain...



...and this could cause all the other animals to mill around the pasture gate, bellowing in sympathy. It got pretty noisy for awhile.


At long last I could see the tip of the calf's nose. Progress at last.


The head is out. Once this happens, the rest is quick.


Hang in there, Rosy, the worst is almost over.



Ahhhhh.


Then she got the most comical expression on her face. You could almost hear her say, "Hey, what just happened?"


Then instinct kicked in. She got to her feet and began cleaning the baby.


Soon the baby raised her head and looked around.


It's a little heifer and, as I explained before, she looks so much like her mom that I named her Minnie, as in Mini-Me.



The baby began the struggle of getting to her feet.


Takes a few minutes to get the hang of things.


Crash and burn.


Minnie wobbled to her feet again and stood there, swaying.


And, because Rosy was vigorously licking, little Minnie's feet got wider and wider and wider apart. "Um, I'm up...what do I do now?"




But soon she learned that back legs have to follow after front legs, and all was right once more.


Little Minnie is strong. In no time at all, she found the faucet.



All that good rich colostrum, going just where it's supposed to go.


Within an hour or so, Rosy delivered the placenta.


Then she lay down for a much-deserved rest


See? Mini-Me.


I'm always happy when first births go so well.

Well I got my birthday calf after all! Jet had a little bull calf last night.

All evening we kept an eye on her. The classic sign of a cow in labor is a hunched back and some painful low "moo" sounds. That didn't happen until after I'd gone to bed. But by late evening (9 pm or so) Jet was pacing around the driveway and lashing her tail. Tail lashing is a typical cow response to early labor pains. I guess that turgid udder was the right indicator after all. We knew we'd have a calf by morning.

I went to bed around 9:30, and was sound asleep when Don woke me up at 10:30. "She's in labor if you want to watch," he said.

I dressed and took a camera and flashlight. The girls woke up and joined me for a few minutes but didn't stay for the entire birth (Younger Daughter swears she's going to adopt some day). I took only a limited number of photos because I didn't want to disturb Jet too much with the flash.

Here she is, in heavy labor.


She pushed out a sac of amniotic fluid first. It burst shortly after taking this photo.


The camera wasn't focusing well in the pitch darkness, so some of these shots are blurry. Here the calf's hooves are starting to emerge.


Then she lay down right next to the corral fence to push some more.


About half-way out. The white covering is the amniotic sac.



Then Jet heaved herself to her feet for the final push.


Dropped! Jet immediately started licking her calf.


The time: 10:55 pm. Still my birthday.


I went out to check one last time. All seemed well, so I went to bed knowing I wouldn't find out the gender until morning.


This morning I found the calf standing, and I gently reached down and felt a tiny scrotum. A little bull calf. Adorable!


Of course, Jet hovers close by, anxious and protective. This is her seventh or eighth calf, and she's an excellent and experienced mom.


We'll have to come up with a name for this little fella.



It's a big wide world out there for him to explore, including meeting the chickens.




Jet kept a wary eye on me. Thankfully she's not a cow to get aggressive with a new calf, but I also knew to keep my distance. Hormones do funny things to critters.




The birthday calf is strong and curious...


...and was already making the cute little hippity-hop skips most newborns do to express health and exuberance.


Playing with mama's tail.




Altogether now: "Awwwwww....."


Older Daughter wants to call him Tarter. As in, sauce. (Don't ask me why.) I suppose it bears some similarity to "steak tartare," so I guess it works. We usually try to give our bull calves "meat" names, since that will be this little guy's fate in about two years... at which point, trust me, he'll no longer be cute.

What a nice birthday present!