Emily Lees: Calving success isn’t always measured by survival
Emily Lees After nearly three years on farm, I finally faced my first very premature calf.
We run a spring-calving herd, starting in March, ready to turn mother and baby out onto (hopefully) dry ground.
This year, however, we got rather a fright when, in early February, the first bleats of a calf echoed from the barns.
See also: Emily Lees – resilience is lived rather than taught on farms
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I suspect the tiny heifer calf was between four and six weeks early, so the odds were never in her favour.
But things quickly went from bad to worse as she grew colder, unable to stand or be properly licked dry.
These are the moments that feel hardest for farmers: do we let nature take its course and find the newborn gone hours later, or intervene and hope for a happier outcome?
On this occasion, I intervened.
The calf soon found herself drying out in front of the AGA, my personal electric blanket warming her up.
After feeding her some colostrum, I went to bed that night resigned to the likelihood that she would be dead by morning, but at least I’d done my best.
Farming teaches you success isn’t always measured in survival, but in showing up and trying anyway even when the odds are stacked against you
I woke to a chirpy calf and a very soiled blanket.
The next few days became Calf Rearing 101: endless towels, kitchen roll and sheer persistence.
The kitchen floor was repeatedly bleached, the washing machine worked overtime and my patience wore increasingly thin.
The stink of cheesy colostrum poo, which the calf kindly wiped onto the AGA (for those of you wondering, it really bakes on), became the homecoming fragrance after a day’s work, although the dog was delighted with his new housemate.
Then came the inevitable… our little friend, still unnamed, began to go downhill.
Our vet confirmed a 2% chance of survival and, after seven days of farmhouse living, the little heifer took her final breath.
It was a sad ending to a week of effort and hope, yet I wouldn’t change a thing.
Farming teaches you success isn’t always measured in survival, but in showing up and trying anyway even when the odds are stacked against you.
And who knows – next time, the calf might just be one of the 2%.
