Ranch Wife Musings | Nothing to It

Posted on March 27, 2023 by Laura Lindblom under Agriculture and Ranching, country life, Writing

It starts with the simplest of requests, made as we drink coffee and eat breakfast. “Do you have time to help me vaccinate calves in the hayfield?” Well, of course I do.

The exercise is simple. Nothing to it, really. We approach the agreeable new mama in a friendly manner and explain our task. We quietly lay the calf on its side and vaccinate it and give it an ear tag while the mother cow patiently chews her cud and looks on pleasantly, thankful that we are so diligent about the health of her calf.

Oh, please.

It has to be a comical sight. It’s cold out, so we’re bundled up like Arctic explorers (or at least I am), hardly able to bend over due to the spring load effect. We are armed to the teeth with ear tagger and notcher, vaccine gun holstered in my coat, and a lariat hanging from the left handlebar. Brad is driving standing on the left running board of the ATV, I’m perched precariously on the right side, sharing the back with Pearl and both pups as we whizz and bounce around the frozen hayfield looking for new calves. And then a snow squall blows in from who knows where.

The wind is biting and freezing our faces and hands, as we try to stealthily approach the mama cow without raising suspicion, but those cows know the sound of the ATV and what it means. A cow with a suspicious look might as well be plotting murder. We steal her calf, which promptly starts bawling and screeching, and all the threatening pounds of the annoyed mama comes barreling down on us with her head lowered and snot flying. Geez Louise. Well, at least now we can read her ear tag, and fish the correct tag out of the plastic bag. Gosh, I thought there were only 8 tags in here, not 800. Meanwhile, the dogs go tumbling off the four wheeler to hide, the vaccine gun gets stuck in my coat pocket, while the ear tag won’t go on the tagger because the plastic is stiff with cold and so are my fingers. Brad is hanging on to the roped calf and trying to talk down the mother cow, but his occasional choice words ruin the calming effect, while I’m trying to tell everyone, cow, calf, and pups, that “everything is going to be just fine.” Finally I get the tag on the tagger but the calf screeches again as Brad tags his ear, and mama cow starts bellowing, which scares the calf even more. The calf jumps and prances on the end of the rope and the ear tagger goes flying, and the mama races off ten or so paces, just enough time for Brad to flip the calf on its side and sit on it. I finally get the vaccine gun out of my coat and hand it to Brad as the cow comes barreling back over, raining snot, clumps of dirt and grass flinging up behind her. With a yell, Brad manages to simultaneously vaccinate the calf, release it, and jump behind the four wheeler, with agility that would put the best bull fighter to shame. With a parting snort, the cow gathers up her calf and moves off.

We rescue all our scattered items, load the pups back up from their various hiding places, and go on our merry little way.

Just like that. Nothing to it.

Ranch Wife Musings | A Life Brim-Full of Life

Posted on March 21, 2023 by Laura Lindblom under Agriculture and Ranching, country life

And the Lord God planted a garden in Eden, in the east, and there he put the man whom he had formed. And out of the ground the Lord God made to spring up every tree that is pleasant to the sight and good for food. The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it. (Genesis 2:8-9, 15)And God blessed them. And God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it, and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over every living thing that moves on the earth.” (Genesis 1:28-28)

Of all the occupations that exist, the only broad category that existed prior to the Fall was that of the cultivator, the farmer, the gardener. It was the original work God created for Adam and his wife to do, to be keepers of God’s Garden, stewards of His Creation, keepers of the fields and the trees, the livestock and other animals. They were to carefully and responsibly manage the world that God had made. To take care of it. To tend it. To cultivate it. To nurture it. And even after the Fall, this mandate was to continue to be carried out by everyone, but it is especially seen today in those who live and and work as the cultivators, the growers, the caretakers.

It is National Agriculture Day, and most people will zero in pretty quickly on the farming and ranching side of agriculture, and may have a pretty specific idea that comes to mind without thinking of just how gloriously broad this category is, encompassing or touching so many of our most basic needs! Where does your bread come from? The milk in your fridge? Meat? Eggs? Pet foods? Medicines and herbs? Wood to build homes, or wood to heat? In some way, shape, or form, agriculture is involved.

But this isn’t purely utilitarian. So much of the flavor and beauty of living has at its root in the growing and cultivating of life. Trees and shrubs for landscaping. Cut flowers for bouquets. Succulent fruits, nourishing vegetables. Cotton and linen and wool to make textiles for beautifying our homes, all rely on agriculture. Beauty is cultivated, and the abundance of life is made even more abundant.

In so many cases with farms and ranches and the working of livestock, it is generational work, one in which the oldest generation is teaching the youngest generation, where knowledge and skills and values and morals are being handed down, where the family unit truly is the center of the endeavor. It makes me think of God’s command to His people, all the way back in Deuteronomy, the command to “Honor your father and your mother….that your days may be long, and that it may go well with you in the land that the Lord your God is giving you.” (Deuteronomy 5:16) One of the great joys living in the agricultural community is seeing families working with families, spouses working with spouses, and being able to live and experience that myself.

And this life! It is the satisfaction of taking a seed and watching it grow and bringing it to harvest. It is the joy of delivering fresher-than-fresh eggs to a neighbor, or serving a loaf of homemade bread to a friend. It is the heart-warming delight of watching a mother cow get her new calf to stand and nurse. It is the pain of seeing death. The uncertainty of dry dams and wildly fluctuating cattle prices. The trust that God will provide. It is a life of working alongside loved ones, to fellowship and break bread, where family upon family from the broader community come together, where names are known from one part of the state to another, simply by virtue of being a part of this community, the ranching community. It is a life and a livelihood richer and sweeter than I could have imagined before God married me to a rancher and into one of the kindest families I’ve ever met, into one of the strongest communities I’ve ever seen. This life is a constant reminder that all that we have is from God, and He has given us the job of stewarding it well. Taking what is and making the most of it, making it more, making it feed our families, our communities.

It is a life brimming full of life.

Weekly Photo Roundup | March 12 – 18

Posted on March 21, 2023 by Laura Lindblom under country life, Photography

Mud. Animal antics. Homemade bread. Baskets and baskets of eggs. More mud! Feeding cows. Puppy mischief. Live calves. A good save. More mud. New chicks. It was a good week.

Ranch Wife Musings | Hard to Stop Smiling

Posted on March 15, 2023 by Laura Lindblom under country life

Calving season by turns is a season of contrasts, of deflating defeat and ecstatic elation. In spite of best efforts, everything goes wrong. Then, in spite of the worst efforts, everything goes amazingly right. In spite of best circumstances, everything goes wrong. In spite of worst circumstances, everything goes right. Sometimes it seems you just can’t win.

Last week was pretty hard on the psyche, as my father-in-law would say. We lost calves daily, in situations that seemed so avoidable but really were just the frustrating way nature works, sometimes with us, sometimes against us. Cold and snow and frigid overnight temperatures were definitely fighting against us.

However, things started turning around over the weekend as temps began to warm, and we were excited Sunday morning to find a cow have not twins but triplets, a pretty rare occurrence. All were alive and full term. One had a birth defect, sadly, and nature took care of it pretty quickly, but the other two were lively little things. We snagged one from the cow to give to a different cow who lost a calf, so that was a win, since cows without calves aren’t kept around, and since most of the time twins can’t be raised by the same cow it was actually two wins.

Then yesterday, a tiny heifer started calving and wasn’t progressing. The calf was malpresented, with its head twisted to the side so it was basically being born upside down, which is not how things are supposed to work. We honestly weren’t overly optimistic – The heifer was tiny, and we had lost a cow and calf last week to a similar malpresentation. After a surprisingly successful pull, the calf was born without injury to the cow, but by all appearances the calf was dead. It’s tongue was horribly engorged, it wasn’t breathing, and its eyes had a deathly glassy look to them, with very little eye reflex. Efforts seemed fruitless, but after twenty or thirty minutes of viciously rubbing and drying the calf, encouraging airflow in the lungs, poking its nose, and eventually moving it roughly around (i.e. kicking it) to mimic mama’s rough licking and prodding, the calf was sitting up right, sneezing and shaking his ears. That’s a win. He wasn’t out of the woods, but what a neat save.

This morning, Brad woke me up to tell me the calf was standing. It took a little prodding, but the calf did it! That’s another win. Throughout the day, he’s been pretty spunky, is up and down and walking and appears to be nursing. Wins all around. He has some sort of umbilical defect which we’ll keep an eye on, so again not out of the woods, but again, what a neat save!

When you’re contending with cows and nature, you’re bound to lose a few rounds in spite of everything, and then win a few rounds, also in spite of everything.

This little guy makes it hard to stop smiling.

Ranch Wife Musings | Heartbreak and Hope

Posted on March 9, 2023 by Laura Lindblom under country life, Writing

The dead calf was lying covered in snow, and the maternal cow wouldn’t leave its side. The calf had been dead for a good 24 hours but the determined cow, who required doctoring, wouldn’t budge. We got a lariat around the calf and the good mother followed as the calf was dragged slowly behind the truck all the way up to the corrals where we could give her the antibiotics she needed.

The knot in my stomach became a lump in my throat, watching that poor cow following pathetically behind her dead calf, her animal mind not understanding the situation, her instincts everything they should have been. A frustrating contrast to mama cows who birth their calves in a snowstorm and then forget about them. It would be easier if the bereaved mamas just walked away, but the tenacity they show can be heartbreaking. It is such a defeating sight – A good mother cow who wants a calf and is deprived of that calf. This storm, a series of storms and multiple nights of snow, has been deadly.

As I followed at a distance on a four-wheeler, a glimmer of movement caught my eye. I looked up and the word, “Wow,” escaped involuntarily, getting past that lump in my throat. The sky! What a glorious blue, clear as clear can be, and the whole depth of its blueness sparkling and shimmering with swirling snow. Where was the snow cloud? It was a wonderful sight. I looked out over the hayfields, still and soft like a painting, covered deep with insulating and moisture-bringing snow, snow that resulted in the loss of multiple calves but will be life-sustaining as the year continues. The trees were white with snow and frost. There was enough snow that the road was almost indistinguishable from anything else, just continuous white. It was spectacular. A beautiful and encouraging sight it was, seeing the clouds break and the sky clear and the sun rain down its invigorating warmth. As we came up to the barn, the sound of water running off the roof was like healing music. Water! Life-giving water. Spring is just around the corner.

One of the many paradoxes of life, the intermingling of heartbreak and hope.