Gray asked, “Can you imagine how big he would’ve been if Snowball had carried him to term?”
Sully shuddered.
“Have you talked with Dillon about inducing some of the most at risk cows early?”
Sully gave him a sharp look.“No.But that’s a good idea.If we can save the smaller cows a week or two of calf growth, we might avoid some of the C-sections.”
Gray shrugged.“Dillon will know how early you can safely induce labor.”
Sully nodded.“I’ll ask him when he’s done flushing out mama.The placenta tore during the birth and Dillon’s making sure none of it got left behind to cause infection.”
Gray noted the gender, birth weight, time, the calf's color, and its conformation.He stepped inside to photograph the calf for his records.It regarded his phone with mild interest, then went back to the business of standing.
Dillon finished whatever he was doing to the cow and carried his equipment out of the stall.He murmured something about washing up and disappeared while Sully and Gray backed out of the stall to watch the calf make another attempt at standing.It nearly got all four legs cooperating, but then one gave out and all three remaining legs collapsed at once.The big calf flopped back to its belly.
“I'll say one thing for him,” Sully commented.“He’s a good-looking calf.”
The calf was approximately the size of a Great Dane trying earnestly to be a cow.He thought about the thirty-one other births still pending and hoped all the outcomes were as good as this one.
Gray agreed, “He is a looker.”
Dillon pulled into the Foster Ranch Thursday morning driving a truck that had seen better days and carrying a large thermos of coffee that suggested he had already resigned himself to what lay ahead.He met Gray at the calving barn door.
“Update me,” he said, climbing out.
“The genetic samples came back yesterday,” Gray said.“Charolais sire.Confirmed across all four samples.”
“Shocker of the century.”Dillon surveyed the pasture.“How many calves since Tuesday?”
“Two more.Minerva and Penelope.Both needed assistance from me and Sully.”
“Weights?”
“One-twelve, and one-nineteen.”
“One-nineteen!”Dillon exclaimed under his breath.
“Luckily, Penelope is the largest cow in the herd.But let me tell you.It was touch and go.Sully was on the verge of calling you when Penelope finally managed to push it out.”
Dillon was quiet for a moment.One-hundred-nineteen pounds was, in Gray's amateur assessment, an alarming birth weight for a calf whose dam was half the size of a Charolais breeding cow.
“How’s Penelope?”Dillon asked.“Any bleeding?Trouble expelling the placenta?”
“No and no,” Gray answered.“Sully got the calf positioned just right, and the delivery went well, if slow, after that.”
Gray looked down at his notebook.“I've flagged eight cows for priority attention.They're the individuals in the herd with the largest bellies relative to their frame size.”
Sully piped up.“Any chance we can induce the ones in danger of not being able to deliver?We’ve been lucky so far.”
“Darned lucky,” Dillon retorted.“Calves are fully developed and safe to deliver about ten days before their due dates.Calves born more than four weeks early rarely survive.I’m comfortable inducing any of your cows ten days early.I can be talked into inducing the smallest cows two weeks early.Much younger than that and we risk underdeveloped lungs and not enough brown fat to survive Montana temperatures, no matter how many heat lamps you point at them.”
“Which cow do your calculations say is most at risk, Gray?”Sully asked.
“Number 96.”Gray answered without hesitation.“She's been a front-runner on the weight curve since the beginning, and she’s a lot smaller than Snowball.”
“When is she due?Dillon asked.
Gray referred to his notes.“Based on Jenna’s breeding notes, which are blessedly thorough, 96 is due in twelve days.”
