Count your blessings!

As I look forward to Thanksgiving next Thursday, I am reminded of the many blessings that are bestowed on me and my family every day.  At times, I take the good fortune we have in life for granted.  While I thank God every day when I awake for another opportunity to enjoy life, I find myself dashing through my morning prayer of thanks and rushing off to start the day’s seemingly endless list of tasks.

This past Sunday started off in standard fashion.  I had to hurry to get the Border Collies taken care of before leaving for early church services.  My husband, Mike, was already out of the house and tending to our herd of Herefords.  I opened our farmhouse door and released my canine cattle herders to their much preferred outside world where they could work off some pent up energy playing in the yard.

My normal Sunday turned upside down a few moments later when I saw one of our Hereford cows walking solo in what was supposed to be an empty pasture.  My mind raced to catch up with the scene before me, trying to figure out how this cow could be so out of place.

Before I had time to solve the mystery unfolding before me, I saw Mike appear out of the corner of the pasture, expressing to himself, the cow and me in no uncertain terms exactly how he felt about farming this morning.  If he never saw another cow, he would be happy.  Over his shoulder, he shouted to me that this cow was in the midst of calving and that we had problems.

My stomach sank as I crawled through the high tensile fence and followed Mike toward the cow.  What did he mean this cow was calving?  We had just finished up the list of cows that delivered fall calves and they were congregated at our one farm.  The majority of our cow herd was in a 45 acre hay field, now pasture, grazing the regrowth before winter weather arrives.  How did we miss this cow's due date by more than a month.

Since Mike had already gathered her away from her herdmates and had driven her to the lower pasture, this Hereford cow was not interested in following directions that led her further from her preferred spot to calve.  With gentle persistence, we urged her to the barn.  She stopped to push far too frequently, delaying our chance to help save the unfortunate calf whose first fatal mistake in life was tucking a front leg back underneath itself.  Sometimes we can assist a cow out on pasture, but this one wouldn't stand still long enough for us to manipulate the calf into the right position to be born.

Once we had her caught up, Mike worked quickly to find the front leg that had caused the calf to get blocked in the birth canal.  After we had both front legs secured with twine so the calf wouldn't get tangled up inside again, the cow’s strong contractions delivered the calf’s head, then chest, and its hindquarters finally slipped through as it dropped to the ground.  No movement, no breathing. No sound except the final straining groan of the cow.

Seeing the calf's lifeless body brought feelings of frustration and futility rushing through my mind where optimism had refused to give up a few minutes before.  I had held onto the hope that there might be some miracle this morning and we might not be too late to breathe life back into this nearly-born calf.  We had wrestled a few calves away from death’s door during our three decades in the beef business, but this one was gone.  Too much time had gone by by during the birth process thanks to that turned back leg.

My disappointment increased after finding this to be a heifer calf.  It was the first female this ten-year-old cow had delivered.   Her past bull calves were excellent gifts to our farm, but a heifer would have carried on her genetics in our herd.  I kept kicking myself mentally with the “should have” list that always is so apparent after mistakes happen.

We should have checked her the previous evening, but we were busy moving bred heifers home.  We should have noticed her bagging up, even though she wasn’t “supposed” to be due for another six weeks.  Our bull had settled her less than 30 days after she calved in January.  We shouldn’t have turned him out with the cows so soon.  All these mental gymnastics did little to ease the depression that was enveloping me.

Rushing to clean up and get to church, I found it hard to focus on something good about this morning.  Once again, the wind had been knocked out of us as we failed to save a calf.  That lifeless body represented nine-months of reproductive work by its dam.  It just wasn’t fair that this perfectly formed animal died before it could breathe its first breath of life or be licked and dried by its protective mama.  I was feeling very sorry for myself.

As I concentrated on the minister’s message, I felt some of my anguish diminish.  I realized how very fortunate I was, despite the morning’s mishap and other seasonal setbacks that Mother Nature dealt to our farms this year.  I had many more blessings to count than hardships.  I had plenty of live healthy calves running across our pastures that had required no human assistance as they entered this world.  And while the lack of rain shrank our hay and corn crops considerably, they were not total disasters.  Good health, a loving family, supportive friends, and a safe, satisfying farm life are blessings to thank God for every day.  That’s what counts in life.

As you prepare to celebrate the bountiful harvest season and life’s blessing next Thursday, remember to count the good things you have received.  Dust off the disappointments, and keep on F-A-R-Ming.

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