Today, One Year Ago

   February 22nd, 2013. Today, one year ago. I usually don't remember what happened on any specific day, a year ago, but the 22nd still sticks out pretty sharply. Today, one year ago? Do you remember? Mattie died. My favorite cow of all time. We went through what seemed like hell for seven long days, and in the end I lost both her, and her calf. The vet still says it was a freak happening... Could have happened to anyone, anywhere, anytime. I still say it was my fault.

 She was a good cow. The best.

P.S. If you're new here, and aren't sure what the story is, you can find all the posts about it by clicking HERE.

It Is Finished

Mattie died this morning.

She looked okay when I went out to milk her... She was back to breathing heavily, and through her mouth, but I hoped that with another dose of garlic and some time, she would perk back up just like she did yesterday.

She didn't.

An hour after I milked her, I found her dead.

Few things make me cry; but while cradling the head of my beloved cow, I bawled. Heart wrenching, painful sobs wracked my whole body, and I could do absolutely nothing to stop myself.

I loved you so much, Mattie dear... We both fought this battle with all we had. :( 

Getting There

Yes, yes, I know... I've blogged about basically nothing but my cow for just about a whole week now. I think we're all getting ready for this cow to get better so the blogging can get back to variety!

But for now y'all will just have to endure yet another update about 'ze bovine.

And that is that she's looking great today! :) At first she wasn't. I found her this morning, looking exactly the same as yesterday, and I drooped. The vet had said if she didn't look better by morning, then her chance of surviving was pretty much nil. So seeing her still gasping for breath was a blow; I was so sure I was going to lose my cow... But I wasn't going to lose her without a fight. The vet had used his entire bag of tricks on her, so now it was my turn to finish up my bag of tricks. And I had two weapons I wanted to use: Garlic, and cayenne pepper. These were my personal big guns.

Looking through my Herbal Handbook for Farm and Stable, (Have animals? Then you need this book. I have used mine so much over the last 7 years that it's all taped together, highlighted, dog-eared, and written in.) I found that the dosage for a Jersey cow with pneumonia was 8 heads of garlic a day, made into a ultra strong brew. The cayenne I just went on gut instinct, and decided to go with roughly 2 Tablespoons a day.

*checks amount of garlic in kitchen; finds half a head of it*

I had to dash to the market to buy 24 heads of garlic... You buy these by individuals here, so I felt rather funny counting out 2 dozen of them and then paying for them... The cashier looked at me like I sprouted a second head.

After getting the first brew ready, I went out to milk my sweet cow. It had been three months since I had used the milking machine and I was looking forward to it more than I can say. She was looking better by this time; her breathing had quieted, but I couldn't tell just how much better she might be feeling.

 Mattie knows the milking drill so well that I always simply halter her, swing the lead rope over her neck and let her walk her self to the milking stall. She stands there, waiting for me to tie her up and get the machine going. Today however, Mattie swerved to the right, towards the open door of freedom, instead of turning left into the milking parlor! She picked up her pace and trotted briskly right out the door, leaving me wondering what on earth just happened! Sick cow? You're telling me that's a sick cow that just went running out the door?

I laughed heartily and then sprinted after her. There's a first time for everything, and this was the first time I have EVER been so overjoyed to chase after a runaway cow! I caught her in short order, grinning the whole time at my cow who felt good enough to make a break for the wild blue 'yonder. She pranced and pawed at the end of her lead rope as I led her to the milking parlor. 

Milking time was as pleasurable as it always is. I absolutely adore it all... The vacuum pump is loud enough to drown out the sounds of the goats and Peaches, but not so loud that I can hear myself hum or think. Mattie stood like a rock, as always, despite her 3 month vacation she had just had. This cow may make me go gray from her health problems, but I can't complain in the least about her manners in the milking parlor (or anywhere else, for that matter). You won't find a better cow than her. 

I milked her out halfway, and then shut the machine off. Tomorrow I will milk her out 3/4's of the way, and then on Saturday she will be milked completely out. This keeps her from "coming into her milk" too quickly, and possibly making her have another bout of milk fever. Some animals will also go down and stay down in production if you milk them out all the way at the beginning, but it depends on each individual. 

Her colostrum was dumped into the road ditch outside the barn, and then I went inside to wash my equipment. I will continue to dump the milk into the ditch for the next 2-3 weeks, until the antibiotics are out of her system. 

By 4:30pm, the garlic brew was ready, so I went out and had the slobbery job of getting a whole pint of the stuff into the cow. She was not amused. For a cow who's been sick all week, she certainly had enough energy to fight the syringe! But accomplish the goal I did. Just don't ask how long it took, or how much cow slobber I had on me by the time I was done.

I went outside at 7:20pm to do evening barn chores and check on Mattie one more time. Wow. Is this the same cow as yesterday?? She was munching hay placidly; her breathing 100% normal. She looks awesome. Maybe the antibiotics are finally kicking in. Maybe the garlic brew had a better effect than I thought. Maybe all your prayers did the trick and made her better. Maybe it was all three. I'm inclined to think it's all three. :) I think we have a bit more to go before she's back to normal, but I am quite optimistic about her condition. I don't think I'm going to lose my cow. I may have lost the calf, but at least I still have the cow. Yesterday's situation could have been much worse...

Thank you all so, so, SO much for your prayers. :) You don't know how much it means to this farm girl and her cow. We're not at the end of this story yet, but I'm thinking I can see the last few chapters just ahead. I sure hope the last sentence goes, "And they lived happily, ever after..."

I happen to like stories that end like that.

He Was Beautiful

 This day turned out nothing like I was expecting.

My friend came out and immediately began trying to get the calf out. To our dismay though, she found that the calf was not only upside down, but the legs were tucked up against it, and its head was flopped back, way out of her reach. Mattie was straining hard with contractions, but there was virtually no way to get this baby out unless we could re-position it into a proper position. Neither one of us was strong enough to do that.

So we called the vet. Actually, we called several vets, friends, family members, and everyone we could think of. Who was close enough to get here quickly? All the local vets were out on call (we even tried an equine vet, in our desperation), friends and family weren't answering their phones. I finally got a hold of the vet who I've been working with lately, and he said he'd make the 1 hour drive over to help us out. 

An hour is a really long time to wait when you're watching a sick cow heave with futile contractions. 

The vet came at about 5:30pm, and once he had his muck boots and coveralls on, he took his turn in trying to figure this little calf out. Well versed in dealing with problem calves, even he had a tricky time re-positioning the calf, and had his entire arm, up to his shoulder, inside my patient cow. Mattie stood rock still the whole time, without being held in any form or fashion. After some manipulating, he had the calf how he needed it: Right side up with its head nestled in between its two front legs. He slipped a wire snare behind the calf's ears, and cinched it inside its mouth. This would keep the head from flopping backwards again, and gave him something to pull on. He then looped chains around the calf's front legs, just above the dewclaws (think ankles), and heaved with all his might, with the snare and the chains wrapped around his hands. But that wasn't enough to pull a stuck calf. My friend stepped in and helped pull, while I kept Mattie from being dragged backwards. With a groan, Mattie fell to the ground in a heap. My friend and the vet kept pulling. There are the legs! Here comes the head! Yes, yes, yes! There's the chest, stomach, and back legs! With one last heave, the calf was out. There was no joy though, when the little calf was finally out and onto the ground. 

It was dead.

It was a bull calf. Chocolate brown in color, with white patches playfully scattered over his small body. He was beautiful. But he was dead.

It looks like he died 3 or 4 days ago, according to the vet, and it was just a freak happening. Apparently it's very common in Holstein cows, but extremely rare in Jerseys. Why it had to happen to this one particular cow, during my very first calving, I fail to understand... There is nothing you can do to prevent it, nothing you can do to avoid it happening again, and nothing to do to save the calf. In the span of 6 days, my cow has had premature milk fever (very rare for a cow to get it before they calve), a severe case of pneumonia (uncommon to see a cow get it so bad, so fast), a case of dystocia (stuck calf; difficult birth), and an ultra rare fluke of a stillborn calf. Why this all had to happen to me and Mattie, all at the same time, I will never know. It makes no sense to my little head.

The vet continued on to give Mattie some more antibiotics. He gave her every single thing he possibly could and said it's all up to her now. She has a 50% chance of survival. If she looks better tomorrow, then she'll most likely make it and be fine. If she looks the same tomorrow, as she does today, then her chances are slim indeed...

When the vet left, Mattie wandered over to the fence edge, where her calf lay in a heap on the other side. She wanted it, but couldn't understand why she couldn't have it. I sighed, rubbed the soft spot on her forehead, where the fur makes a pretty little whorl, and then helped my friend drag the carcass out. Better luck next time, Mattie dear. 

While part of me is at least glad that it wasn't a heifer that was lost, I'm still heartbroken about it all... I wanted that calf so bad, and have been looking forward to its birth since last July, when I first bought Mattie. All that's left to do now is hope and pray that Mattie pulls through, and then pick up these broken shards of life and continue on. 

Life is tough sometimes.

The Plot Thickens

Mattie's been in heavy labor for a little over an hour now, and still no calf showing. I scrubbed up, oiled up and stuck my arm inside to see what I would find, and was dismayed that no matter how much I searched, I couldn't find the head. I don't know if I'm not reaching back far enough, or if the head is turned back... So I have an experienced cow raiser coming out in 15 minutes to see if she can pull the calf for me. If she can't do it, then the vet will be coming out to do the job.

I have learned more from this cow in 1 week, than I have ever learned about cows in my lifetime. Oy.

Today??

Just came in from the barn and would like to announce that Mattie has finally decided to go into labor! So unless she changes her mind about things, we *should* have a calf sometime today!!

Plodding Along

Mattie dear seems to have hit a plateau as of last night. She's not better, but she's not worse. No calf yet, and she's keeping me edgy about it all. I spent my night checking on her, and all I ended up with from that adventure was sleep deprivation. But she has started nibbling on hay, which is good, and you can't hear fluid in her lungs anymore, which is VERY good! She's still breathing through her mouth, but the banamine seems to be helping... 

The vet said there is a possibility that the antibiotic *could* take up to 56 hours before it causes her to go into labor, but I'm really hoping it doesn't take that long! We're at 23 hours right now, and she's still looking pretty content to keep her calf. Grumble, grumble, grumble.

Stay tuned.

  

The Calf Is Coming

Mattie's condition quickly grew worse within a few hours of my finding her this morning. You can hear the fluid in her lungs even while standing at the other end of the barn. I called the vet immediately and he prescribed some more banamine, and a really strong drug that should finish the pneumonia off. Should. There's just one catch to this antibiotic though: It will induce labor in Mattie. Since she is only 3 days away from her due date, the vet felt okay with giving it to her.

Folks, the calf is coming. It should be on the ground by tomorrow, if all goes according to plan.

I feel sick to my stomach about all this.

Relapse

Mattie had a relapse in the night. 

She was looking fabulous last night; basically her old, perky self, and I was overjoyed to think that we were back on track with everything. How silly of me to think it would be that easy...

Now she's back to what she looked like on Saturday. Heavy breathing, mouth hanging open, tongue lolling out, froth rimming her chin, cool ears... Grrr. This is so frustrating to me! I may have to call the vet again and see about getting some more meds, but I have my fingers crossed that I won't. It certainly wasn't cheap getting that first round... Ugh.

Getting There

Mattie is looking better this morning. :) Her respiration rate has finally come down to what it should be, and she's only occasionally breathing through her mouth. She still looks a little sluggish, so I don't think we're out of the woods yet. I did at least manage to entice her to eat a bit of grain this morning, which is fabulous! The vet said once her appetite returns, then she's good to go. Her due date is in four days, so hopefully she'll be back to her normal, perky self before then!

A Long Day

Mattie seemed to be doing better this morning, but by the afternoon it was clear that she was sliding on a downhill slope, healthwise. Her breathing was becoming increasingly ragged and heavy, her ears were drooping. Oh she looked bad. Below is a video I caught of her; I had no idea what I was dealing with, so I hoped a video might help if I showed some experts.

The advice came rolling in from experienced cow owners: Get a vet out, and fast. The only problem with that advice though, was that the vet was going to charge $200 just to park in my driveway! I was tired...Physically, mentally, and emotionally tired. And the glaring fact that I needed a vet was the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. In short, I lost it. I cried. I was completely overwhelmed and feared I was going to lose my cow. After many, many tissues, I regained my composure just enough to call the vet. Turns out that his day was packed and he couldn't make it out even if I HAD wanted him to come. After listening to Mattie's symptoms I described, he became very grave and said it sounded like she had contracted pneumonia. His guess is that last night's bout of milk fever was just enough to lower her immunity levels and allow the pneumonia to grab hold and run rampant. That news didn't exactly cheer me up.

He went on in a no-nonsense tone to say that he would be leaving some medicine for me at his clinic which was 1 hour away from me, and I should come pick it up as soon as possible. His parting words were that if I didn't get Mattie's condition under control immediately, I risked losing both her, and the unborn calf.

Aaaaaand on came the crying again once I hung up. My goodness, I just couldn't seem to hold myself together!

But after awhile, I did manage to snap out of my funk, get some shoes on, and prepare for a one hour drive ahead. Now was not the time to be irrational. The cow needed medicine and she needed it ASAP!

Halfway to the clinic, one of my sisters called to inform me that one of the pigs had just escaped, he had a hurt front leg, and she locked the vagabond squealer into the chicken coop for lack of a better idea at the moment. I couldn't decide if I wanted to laugh, or cry yet again. This day was just getting worse and worse... First my cow gets sick, then I have to drive all the way to St. Paul to pick up antibiotics, then my pig escapes, and now he's got a hurt leg!? When it rains it pours. In the end, I decided to laugh. I had done enough crying for one day; it was time to find the humor in the situation.

Mattie's medicine was picked up and the drive home began. I looked at the five syringes and grimaced at the thought of having to do all those SubQ injections. It had been at least five years since I had done one, and I wasn't looking forward to doing it on my 900 lb. cow as a refresher course. The vet was gone, so he had simply put my things on the front porch of the clinic, in a cardboard box with directions written on a sheet of paper. I looked over the piece of paper and read what all I had just been given. One fat syringe was filled with a thick, creamy substance and was titled Excede; this was apparently for her milk fever. Another had a steroid in it called Prefed; to help with any swelling. Three slim syringes lay next to them and each held something different: One had banamine, which is a pain killer. One had Vitamin A and D. And the third was Vitamin B complex. Along with the needled syringes, there was another bag with 10 bovine sized calcium/magnesium boluses (pills). Two inches long and almost one inch wide, these things were so huge that I couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. Nevermind the term of something being a "horse pill", from here on out I'm saying "cow pill". Hehe.

When we got home, all I wanted to do was take a nap. But I knew I had to deal with Mattie first. Mustering up courage from some forgotten part of me, I walked outside and tied my sweet cow to a post in the barn. It's time to do this thing, Mattie dear. I decided that the boluses seemed like a good way to ease into all of this. It didn't involve needles, so we should be good to go right? Using what's known as a "bolus gun" (it looks more like a blow dart gun thingy, in my mind...) I quickly, but carefully, stuck the bright red bolus gun into the very back of her throat and deposited the giant pill too far back for her to spit it back out. Easy enough, I suppose. But just a forewarning: if you ever have to do it yourself, just know you're going to have a killer amount of cow slobber on your hands when you're finished.

The injections proved to be much easier than I was expecting. I chose the nice big Excede syringe for my first round. The vet recommended inserting the needle on the neck, right in front of the shoulder blade so that's what I did. Mattie had a lot of loose skin right there, so it was easy enough to simply pinch a good sized bit of skin and slip the needle in between skin and muscle. The cow however, was not amused by five needles in a row and the last one had to be done with utmost speed. Sorry Mattie! I promise it's for your own good!

After about two hours, the banamine had set in and Mattie's breathing began to slow down. Her tongue was no longer lolling, and she was breathing with her mouth closed. I'm dearly hoping she'll continue in this way even after the banamine wears off. The vet says if she doesn't begin to improve in 2-3 days, then she'll have to have another round of stronger antibiotics. He also says there's an extremely high chance that she'll get milk fever again once she calves, so I am working on being prepared for if that does indeed happen.

I wanted a nap so bad when I finally finished treating Mattie... But I could hear the pigs grunting, and knew I had to get Mike out of the chicken coop. Sigh. Of all the days to escape, it had to be today? With the help of the afore mentioned sister though, we had the porker back where he belonged in about 15 minutes. No fuss, no stress, no hassle. It was awesome. The pigs have been so good lately; they get daily back scratches and tummy rubs, and they snuffle and snort in happiness when they hear me coming. I'm going to miss them something fierce when their final day comes.

You'll never guess what I did when the pigs were safely secured in their pen! Yup, I went inside and took a nap! :) I was asleep instantly and slept like the dead for almost an hour. Oh it felt good.

It's been a really long day... And one I hope I don't have to repeat any time soon. But at least the cow and I are both standing so far. That's got to count for something, right?

A Little Better

Mattie looks a little better this morning. She still has no interest in heating anything, or drinking for that matter (which really concerns me), but she is at least alive and standing. Her temps are back to normal, she's walking normal, pupils are normal, and her heart/respiration rate are *almost* normal. But we're not out of the woods yet. When I found her this morning, I was pleased to see her standing and tracking my movement, but was fairly alarmed to see a heavy ring of froth around her mouth, as though she had gone rabid. She's standing in a corner by herself right now; with her head and neck all stretched out, her tongue hanging out like a blood hound's, and froth dripping everywhere. This is so weird I don't even know what to think. So I'm keeping an extremely close eye on her today, will be trying some herbal medications to help her out, and will have the vet's phone number in my back pocket. 

Sick Cow

Hey all, I just wanted to keep y'all in the loop and let you know that Mattie is under the weather right now. I noticed that she seemed "off" this morning when she only picked at her grain (she normally inhales it so fast that your ears pop), but I decided to just keep an eye on her. By nightfall it was obvious something was wrong. She stood in a corner of the barn by herself breathing quickly and heavily, her pupils dilated abnormally, her ears cold to the touch, her heart rate racing, and she staggered around like a drunken sailor. My guess was that it was milk fever, but I called the vet to make sure. After telling him the symptoms of my poor cow, he agreed with me. Mattie dear has an onset case of the dreaded milk fever, which is when a cow's calcium levels are so depleted that their body begins to shut down and they will die if something is not done to increase the calcium in the body. 

Thankfully I caught it early! I've also dealt with this before when Mattie came down with it last September. She recovered overnight that time, with just a big dose of molasses water. I'm praying that does the trick again this time. When I found her tonight, her heart rate was 100 beats per minute, when it should have been 55-80 beats. Her respiration rate was 60 breaths per minute when it should have been 30. 

After a couple hours, and a couple gallons of molasses water, her heart and respiration rates are closer to normal, and she's no longer staggering around. Her ears are still pretty cold though, and she's still pretty lethargic, but I think she's stable enough to make it through the night. Hopefully she will be back to her normal self by morning. 

Mattie dear, you're going to make me go gray before my time...