The Unpredictability of Calves and Lessons in Flexibility
Dealing with the unexpected is a way of life on the farm. You plan. You prepare. You predict. And the weather, the cattle, the people throw you a curve ball and you are off jogging across the pasture hoping to stop the 2000 lb. cow running towards the open gate. Lessons in flexibility, patience, and endurance are a daily practice.
And into this mix of the unexpected, you throw calves. Calves are unpredictable, unruly, and completely disrespectful. By disrespectful, I mean that calves are like water. They flow under fences, into new paddocks, and always find the one patch of shade in the midst of a grassy field. They are never where you want them and never go where you push them. In the afternoon, you will hear a mama bawling wildly for its young one to come and eventually, most likely hours later, the little one will wake up from its bed of sunshine and find mama.
Twilight is the best time to go calf watching. Calves that sleep in a pile of grass all day are feisty in the evening coolness. They find a patch of open field that can only be called a race track and fly back and forth, legs to their ears. It is too fun to just sit and watch. So secretly, at twilight, I'll sometimes go and run with the calves. It's especially fun with a whole herd of calves running like the dickens. They aren't quite sure what you are in the twilight, but they are ready for a rip-roaring time. Their little black legs fly into the air as they kick out with all the joy, trembling inside their little bodies. It almost looks like they are close to take off. To go jump over the moon perhaps? I wouldn't doubt it.
One such night, I had taken my camera to watch the calves and been sucked into the glee of the moment, whooping and running in my bare feet across the pasture with the calves chasing behind me. I stopped and watched as one of our calves ran to a small sapling that grew in the middle of the paddock with a trunk about two inches thick. As I watched, the calf backed up slowly and then with a flying leap head butted the trunk of the tree making the leaves and branches sway wildly. The calf skipped around the tree and proceeded to repeat the process: head butt, tree flying, head butt, tree flying until it skittered off to join its small herd of calves racing around the paddock. It would be difficult to watch that moment and not be filled with indescribable joy. Even the cows, Clyde the bull, and our other older cattle cannot resist the joy that a calf brings to the herd. I've watched a calf go flying, weaving between the legs of the much larger, heavier cows and watched the cows respond by running and kicking their feet in a comical, clumsy, heavy mimic of the calf.
And so, while life is unpredictable, chaotic, and unexpected, in these moments, it can also bring the purest, indescribable joy.
The Calmness of Herding Cattle
Herding cattle is a bit like synchronized dancing. It doesn't involve electric rods or scary sounds or running. Instead, it takes quiet, gentle movements and in some ways, getting into the minds of the cattle. I love working with cattle because I love watching the cattle think. I know which way they are thinking of moving by the movement of their heads. I can tell if they are tensing their body to start running. Or if they are aware of you and okay with you or afraid of you.
A lot of how we herd cattle is in the simplest, smallest movements. I don't rush around (most of the time) trying to push them here and there and everywhere. I've found that if I stretch my arms out, I look big and can push a line of cattle in a straight direction. I've found if I move my right arm in a certain way, I can guide an animal to turn to the left. I often walk behind a herd of cattle off to the side, so they can see me following them, which keeps them contained in a line walking in one direction.
But first you have to herd them, slowly, gently into a group. A group that is moving in the direction you want it to. I do this through a series of movements behind the outlying cattle, the ones that aren't a part of the group and slowly make them join together in a moving mass. You might have seen how cattle dogs group cattle or sheep by moving back and forth to keep them in a tight group. I do the same thing, just a bit slower and calmer.
This works, 75% of the time. The other 25% involves stubborn cattle who want to turn towards you and walk in the other direction. Or the herd is feeling happy because it is cool weather and they just were put out on pasture and they want to run, run, run with their feet kicking in the air in the sassiest free form dance. In these cases, it is easiest to just take a moment to laugh at their joy and then once again, slowly, calmly, work them back to where they are supposed to be.
Cattle herd the best when they have been on pasture for a month or two and they know that a downed line and a farmer means there is new grass on the other side. On those days, they move themselves! These are the best days, when all I have to do is roll up the electric fence 10 feet and as I am doing that, they are dutifully lining up to walk into the new pasture. Easy as pie.
When I first started herding cattle, I couldn't get them to budge an inch. I would spend hours trying to wrangle one animal back into the herd when it made its way off into a different patch of grass. My dad made it look effortless, but I had to depend on poly wire fencing. I spent a lot of time watching my dad, how he would move and watching the cattle, how they would respond. I learned to move with slow, gradual steps instead of rushing, which in the end takes more time when you lose control. For us, being a cattle farmer is about far more than owning cattle. In our work, we strive to understand how the cattle move and think to make our farm as cattle-friendly as possible, which in the end, makes life a lot easier for us.