With new calves starting to arrive in the foldyard, it has caused some consternation to see two cows we had assumed were in calf, bulling.
That is to say, clearly demonstrating that they were in the mood for lurve. And they shouldn’t be. They should be lounging about, in a matronly fashion, awaiting the birth of their offspring. Instead of which they are both exhibiting a very provocative and uninhibited desire to be mated.
With no bull in the yard, the whole performance is going nowhere. It is however stirring up all the young lads in the neighbourig bull yard, but they are not allowed out to play so there is no joy there either. All this passion is not good news for these cows. If, after a summer with the bull, they are not in calf, then I am afraid we are not an animal charity that can afford to keep cows and feed them just for the pleasure of their company. It is a one way ticket to the market.
To confirm their condition however, John had decided to call in our vets for a detailed examination, as he has known cows to be bulling, even when they are in calf. Some of them are just too passionate for their own good.
So as luck would have it my friend Marian rang to ask if they could call round for lunch. She and her husband were on their way to view a stainless steel swimming pool in a nearby spa. Their intention is to build a swimming pool extension. Marian suffers badly from arthritis and swimming is of great benefit to her. We could never afford that kind of luxury, and to be honest I do not think I would ever want the upkeep of a pool, but they can and they want to, so that is fair enough.
The point of this ramble off piste so to speak is because Simon, her husband, is a vet. A captive vet, on the farm.
“Come into my parlour said the spider to the fly.” Poor Simon did not know what hit him. No sooner had they rolled up and exchanged pleasantries, eagerly anticipating the nice roast duck lunch I had prepared for them, than Simon was in his shirt sleeves with his arm half way up the business end of a cow checking to see whether she was in calf or not.
She wasn’t, and neither was the other one. At that point we took the ropes off and let him in for lunch.
To be fair Simon thoroughly enjoyed helping us out. Although originally a Ministry vet working with large animals, he now runs a very lucrative small animal vet practice and employs a large staff to carry out most of the hands on stuff. So this he said was a very welcome trip down Memory Lane. I think he needs to keep his hand (and arms) in regularly with this sort of trip.
So they are booked in for lunch whenever they fancy and definitely at lambing time.
Mrs Downs Diary