Working the Cows

After being holed up inside for most of the weekend, we were thrilled to have gorgeous weather in the Sandhills on Monday--perfect for a day of ranch work. I guess I should explain exactly what it is we do, especially since if any of y'all visit, you probably won't see the grittier side of ranching. Most likely, we'll take you horseback riding, drive you around the Sandhills, let you feed the chickens and grain the horses, and make some s'mores over a campfire. But depending on the time of year, you may not get to watch calves being castrated, de-horned, and vaccinated. Nor will you see my father-in-law sticking his arm up the rear end of pregnant cows to check how far along their fetuses are. Welcome to life on the ranch.

We first gathered half of the herd on horseback and drove them toward the corrals near the barn, after which we sorted the calves from the cows into separate pens. That in itself is an adventure, as cows/calves can be skittish and aren't the brightest of animals. And of course when you want them to move through an alleyway, they'll just stand there and look at you.

Gathering the cows

Mini cattle drive

Once the calves were separated from the cows, we moved the calves through the corral, through an alleyway, and into the hydraulic chute--which is actually called The Silencer, believe it or not. The chute prevents the calves from moving and allows us to weigh them, inject them with a vaccine, spray Ivomec (a deworming agent) on their backs, castrate them if they're bulls, brand them if they haven't already been branded, and dehorn them if need be. J's dad does the actual castration, branding, and dehorning (though J can also do that stuff when he gets back), and the rest of us help.

The chute, aka The "Silencer." The metal cylinder hooked up to the propane tank is the brand heater.

This was the first time I'd seen a castration performed. Apparently, you slice off the testicles with a pair of forceps like these--

It only takes a few seconds, and there's very little blood involved. I was slightly surprised by how little the bull calves reacted--I thought there'd be more bellowing involved. Only a couple of them needed to be castrated luckily, and there was a small pile of testicles on the ground.

A couple of calves also needed to be de-horned, which J's dad performed with a pair of clippers, after which he seared the growth rings of the horns with a hot iron to kill the horn producing cells and cauterize the blood vessels. That was a bit more gruesome, but it didn't bother me to watch it.

After we finished with the calves, we moved on to the cows--preg checked them, sprayed them, and weighed them. Yours truly wielded the clipboard, recording the weights and gestational ages of fetal calves, in addition to helping move the cows along. It was a long day, but a productive one--feels good to get a lot accomplished and know that you've done your part to take care of your herd.

Yep, I did say my herd. J's dad and I were discussing one of J's cows as it came through the chute, and J's dad said that it should be sold because it was too big (over 1400 pounds). He then paused and said, "I should actually stop calling them J's cows, because they're yours too. So if you want to sell, it's up to you." Gulp. What do I know about buying and selling cows? Obviously, J's parents are helping us raise the herd until we're ready to move out to the ranch ourselves, but it's still funny to think that I'm now the proud co-owner of 15 heifers.