Butter was due today and she calved this morning during chores. That almost never happens.
Butter is Butte's daughter and Boots' granddaughter. She's tall and strong and a good milker and a sweetie in the parlor. She had a bull calf, who we'll raise as a steer along with the heifers until he's about two years old, at which point he'll move to the freezer. We only keep one bull each season, from a spring-calving cow with lots of desirable attributes and an AI sire who is unrelated to the rest of the herd. (AI stands for Artificial Insemination and involves a technician, a shoulder glove, and straws of semen stored frozen in liquid nitrogen.) There are five cows due this spring whose offspring, if male, would meet this criteria. Usually we hope for heifer calves, but I'm hoping either Nala or Honey has a bull calf. Nala is Nora's daughter and has a little Ayshire in her. Ayshire's are known for their hardiness, especially in infancy, and that's certainly a benefit in any barn. Nala's also got good body depth and is calm and gentle. Honey is Ambrosia's twin and Nectar's daughter. Nectar came from Butterworks farm when we were desperately needing more milk and Jack and Ann had a few more cows than they had stalls in the barn. Honey is sweet and lovely and has nice strong, straight legs and a perfectly balanced udder. The twin thing isn't necessarily good, as a female born with a male twin will usually be sterile. Birthing twins can also be hard on the mother, although all the twins we've had here were born without assistance. Of course, these five may all have heifer calves. And that would be fine. Savannah, the butterfat/production queen and a true sweetie, is due in late May.
As for Butter's calf, he'll have a good two years. He'll be ready to graze right about when the grass starts to really grow. He'll spend his first summer with his buddies in the training pastures (double rows of polywire on the perimeter) and will winter on the bedded pack in the heifer barn across the road from the house. We'll give him a dumb name, like Butter Boy or Butter Bud (all the bull calves were called Bud when I first met Earl). He'll grow big and strong and likely he'll be a little on the dumb side, as the steers invariably are. And then we'll either sell him for freezer beef or eat him ourselves. If this last batch of animals we just butchered is any indication, he'll be delicious. Earl is really good at balancing the steers' diets, with just enough grain to get some marbling in the steaks and great flavor.
I was a vegetarian for fifteen years before I met Earl, and I lasted a full meat-free year before one thick, juicy steak won me over when I was pregnant with Cliffy. I was never a vegetarian for any good reason (I was just trying to impress a boy in high school), but over the years I had gotten kind of used to not having any animals die to feed me and I thought I would probably feel bad about it if they did. Turns out, I don't. We can't raise all the bull calves as pets; that's ridiculous. We could sell them when they're small, but they wouldn't fare as well and would probably end up as dog food. So we raise them, and the same way I look at Antonia and hope she'll milk as well as Ambrosia, I look at the steers and I picture the dotted lines marking off the various cuts of organic, grass-fed beef. These days, I like my beef pastured, happy, and medium rare.
Butter is Butte's daughter and Boots' granddaughter. She's tall and strong and a good milker and a sweetie in the parlor. She had a bull calf, who we'll raise as a steer along with the heifers until he's about two years old, at which point he'll move to the freezer. We only keep one bull each season, from a spring-calving cow with lots of desirable attributes and an AI sire who is unrelated to the rest of the herd. (AI stands for Artificial Insemination and involves a technician, a shoulder glove, and straws of semen stored frozen in liquid nitrogen.) There are five cows due this spring whose offspring, if male, would meet this criteria. Usually we hope for heifer calves, but I'm hoping either Nala or Honey has a bull calf. Nala is Nora's daughter and has a little Ayshire in her. Ayshire's are known for their hardiness, especially in infancy, and that's certainly a benefit in any barn. Nala's also got good body depth and is calm and gentle. Honey is Ambrosia's twin and Nectar's daughter. Nectar came from Butterworks farm when we were desperately needing more milk and Jack and Ann had a few more cows than they had stalls in the barn. Honey is sweet and lovely and has nice strong, straight legs and a perfectly balanced udder. The twin thing isn't necessarily good, as a female born with a male twin will usually be sterile. Birthing twins can also be hard on the mother, although all the twins we've had here were born without assistance. Of course, these five may all have heifer calves. And that would be fine. Savannah, the butterfat/production queen and a true sweetie, is due in late May.
As for Butter's calf, he'll have a good two years. He'll be ready to graze right about when the grass starts to really grow. He'll spend his first summer with his buddies in the training pastures (double rows of polywire on the perimeter) and will winter on the bedded pack in the heifer barn across the road from the house. We'll give him a dumb name, like Butter Boy or Butter Bud (all the bull calves were called Bud when I first met Earl). He'll grow big and strong and likely he'll be a little on the dumb side, as the steers invariably are. And then we'll either sell him for freezer beef or eat him ourselves. If this last batch of animals we just butchered is any indication, he'll be delicious. Earl is really good at balancing the steers' diets, with just enough grain to get some marbling in the steaks and great flavor.
I was a vegetarian for fifteen years before I met Earl, and I lasted a full meat-free year before one thick, juicy steak won me over when I was pregnant with Cliffy. I was never a vegetarian for any good reason (I was just trying to impress a boy in high school), but over the years I had gotten kind of used to not having any animals die to feed me and I thought I would probably feel bad about it if they did. Turns out, I don't. We can't raise all the bull calves as pets; that's ridiculous. We could sell them when they're small, but they wouldn't fare as well and would probably end up as dog food. So we raise them, and the same way I look at Antonia and hope she'll milk as well as Ambrosia, I look at the steers and I picture the dotted lines marking off the various cuts of organic, grass-fed beef. These days, I like my beef pastured, happy, and medium rare.
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