My mood has changed along with the weather. I must suffer from SAD (seasonal affective disorder), because the sunshine we had this past week has really put some pep in my step. I suddenly forgot about the dark days in January (January who?) and February. I’m admiring the fresh new shade of green being painted all over my fields.
The first rotation of grass is so dull and uninspiring when compared to this new spring growth – a lovely, lush green; with grass stalks just brimming with confidence. I’d nearly eat it myself.
The ground, on the other hand, is very hard. I can feel it as I walk across in my wellies. I need to do something about my inner sole as I am feeling every bump and rock, these days. I guess those are the joys of ageing gracefully.
When the weather is fine and you’re in a consistently good humour, the big challenges don’t seem so big. I had a really difficult calving two weeks ago with a heifer. It took every ounce of my strength to pull the calf out. Up until that evening, I had been having a fairly easy time of things, with the heifers mostly calving without issue. That easy streak came to an abrupt end.
It all began when we started getting the calves from our new Limousine bull. The calves seem to be coming out far too big. We never had this problem before with his bloodline, but then, there’s always a chance you’ll get something wrong. Anyway, I knew I was in trouble with this particular heifer.
It’s partly my fault, because I got the timing wrong and she ended up calving outside.
I knew the calf was huge when I saw its hooves, so I put the jack in position and started to work. This calf was so big, I ended up getting to the end of the jack without having the calf out – I had to re-attach the rope. I managed to get the monster calf out, but it was hard on the poor heifer.
After a really difficult calving like that, the odds of the heifer moving again aren’t great as damage is done to their hips and back.
I stayed positive, though, thanks to that extra dose of vitamin D, and brought her to a nice field with fresh grass – just beside the yard – to recuperate. We left her for a few days and gave her antibiotics to keep her safe. After a week, she started to stand on her own with help, and I knew she had a chance.
When the weather is fine and you’re in a consistently good humour, the challenges don’t seem so big
A few days later, she was lying down in a different part of the field; obviously she had managed to get up herself. While she isn’t yet fully back to herself, she’s able to gingerly walk into the parlour. We’re thrilled as the whole family was rooting for her. It’s a great relief.
As I watch her ambling down the field now, I can’t help but wonder: would I have handled the situation differently if the weather had been poorer and I had been feeling grumpier? Would I have thrown the towel in earlier and called in the vet to put her down? I think I might have.
I’m very lucky that I have a job where I’m forced to be outdoors each day. You take it for granted: being outside; taking in the fresh air and listening to the sounds of nature (or the latest Blind Boy podcast).
Doing physical work like farming helps unlock serotonin in your brain – the happy hormone. I often hear of people feeling miserable sitting in front of their screens – the only buzz they get is from a like on an Instagram post or a nice email from a colleague.
It’s unnatural to live like that. Like my much better half was discussing in her column last week, we need to break the cycle of constantly staring at our screens – both young and old. Instead of being social media-dependent, we should be nature-dependent instead.
Instead of Tweeting, go and listen to a bird do it IRL (in real life, for anyone who doesn’t speak internet). Instead of face-timing, meet a real-life person who has a face.
I’ll tell ya – that good weather is truly life-changing (for me, and for that heifer). One week of sunshine and I’m out here preaching the gospel.
Read more
Desperate Farmhusband: never, ever, be too positive about farming
Desperate Farmhusband: could they make a bolus for your spouse?
My mood has changed along with the weather. I must suffer from SAD (seasonal affective disorder), because the sunshine we had this past week has really put some pep in my step. I suddenly forgot about the dark days in January (January who?) and February. I’m admiring the fresh new shade of green being painted all over my fields.
The first rotation of grass is so dull and uninspiring when compared to this new spring growth – a lovely, lush green; with grass stalks just brimming with confidence. I’d nearly eat it myself.
The ground, on the other hand, is very hard. I can feel it as I walk across in my wellies. I need to do something about my inner sole as I am feeling every bump and rock, these days. I guess those are the joys of ageing gracefully.
When the weather is fine and you’re in a consistently good humour, the big challenges don’t seem so big. I had a really difficult calving two weeks ago with a heifer. It took every ounce of my strength to pull the calf out. Up until that evening, I had been having a fairly easy time of things, with the heifers mostly calving without issue. That easy streak came to an abrupt end.
It all began when we started getting the calves from our new Limousine bull. The calves seem to be coming out far too big. We never had this problem before with his bloodline, but then, there’s always a chance you’ll get something wrong. Anyway, I knew I was in trouble with this particular heifer.
It’s partly my fault, because I got the timing wrong and she ended up calving outside.
I knew the calf was huge when I saw its hooves, so I put the jack in position and started to work. This calf was so big, I ended up getting to the end of the jack without having the calf out – I had to re-attach the rope. I managed to get the monster calf out, but it was hard on the poor heifer.
After a really difficult calving like that, the odds of the heifer moving again aren’t great as damage is done to their hips and back.
I stayed positive, though, thanks to that extra dose of vitamin D, and brought her to a nice field with fresh grass – just beside the yard – to recuperate. We left her for a few days and gave her antibiotics to keep her safe. After a week, she started to stand on her own with help, and I knew she had a chance.
When the weather is fine and you’re in a consistently good humour, the challenges don’t seem so big
A few days later, she was lying down in a different part of the field; obviously she had managed to get up herself. While she isn’t yet fully back to herself, she’s able to gingerly walk into the parlour. We’re thrilled as the whole family was rooting for her. It’s a great relief.
As I watch her ambling down the field now, I can’t help but wonder: would I have handled the situation differently if the weather had been poorer and I had been feeling grumpier? Would I have thrown the towel in earlier and called in the vet to put her down? I think I might have.
I’m very lucky that I have a job where I’m forced to be outdoors each day. You take it for granted: being outside; taking in the fresh air and listening to the sounds of nature (or the latest Blind Boy podcast).
Doing physical work like farming helps unlock serotonin in your brain – the happy hormone. I often hear of people feeling miserable sitting in front of their screens – the only buzz they get is from a like on an Instagram post or a nice email from a colleague.
It’s unnatural to live like that. Like my much better half was discussing in her column last week, we need to break the cycle of constantly staring at our screens – both young and old. Instead of being social media-dependent, we should be nature-dependent instead.
Instead of Tweeting, go and listen to a bird do it IRL (in real life, for anyone who doesn’t speak internet). Instead of face-timing, meet a real-life person who has a face.
I’ll tell ya – that good weather is truly life-changing (for me, and for that heifer). One week of sunshine and I’m out here preaching the gospel.
Read more
Desperate Farmhusband: never, ever, be too positive about farming
Desperate Farmhusband: could they make a bolus for your spouse?
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