Veterinarians often work nights, weekends, and holidays. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day are no exception. Christmas Eve three years ago, as we were just finishing things up at the clinic and getting ready to go home early, a phone call came in. Dun, dun, dun. We were soooo close. The farmer on the other end said one of his heifers was calving, and he needed a veterinarian to come out. My technician and I threw on our insulated coveralls and stocking caps and ventured out in the blistering cold. We arrived at the farm, and the heifer was in a pen with a bull who was there to keep her company. The pen led to an alleyway, which then led to a chute. We at least had one thing going in our favor at this point. I had come to be thankful for farmers who had their animals caught and a reliable means to restrain them. We walked through the frozen lot to where the animals were kept. As I approached the cattle I realized that they were black with quite a bit of ear. Anyone who has been around cattle knows that when cattle have “extra ear,” that means they have some Brahman genetics in them. You can pretty reliably say that most cattle with Brahman lineage are going to be high spirited. These cattle in particular we would call Brangus, as they were Angus cattle with a mix of Brahman. Anyway, as we approached the pen, the farmer said, “That bull is in there just to keep her company. We’ll let him out as we put her in the chute.” The farmer positioned himself at the side gate just before the head catch. The bull started to head down the alleyway, so the farmer opened the side gate to let him out. My technician, Angela, and I were behind the cattle coaxing them forward. Suddenly, the bull backed up the alleyway and he and the heifer switched positions, with the heifer heading into the alleyway first. The farmer was unaware of this, and apparently hard of hearing. Angela and I started screaming, “It’s the heifer! It’s the heifer!!!” to no avail. The farmer didn’t hear us, left the gate open, and the heifer ran out. Unfortunately, the gate to the mud lot in front of the chute was also open. As she rounded the corner, exited the mud lot, and high tailed it back to the pasture with all of her “friends”, I muttered a few choice words to myself. I said something like, “Dadgummit! I sure wish that wouldn’t have happened!” Well, ten times worse, but that’s the PG version. The farmer was an elderly man, and I was worried that he wouldn’t be able to outrun an angry heifer on ice, so Angela and I grabbed some sorting sticks out of the truck and marched out to the pasture in our mud boots, slipping on the frozen ground. It was about what you would expect being in a field of Brangus cattle. Angela and I start looking around uneasily at the heifers and cows running around us. All of them had the spirited high step trot of a saddlebred horse with their long ears perked and their heads carried high. It took a few attempts to get the heifer into the lot. Herding animals in a two-acre pasture with just two people was a difficult process. We would get the heifer we wanted separated out with some of her friends just to have them turn around and run to the back of the pasture. “$&%@!,” I exclaimed as I threw my sorting stick to the ground. After some trial and error, we finally got the heifer into the mud lot. In the process of herding her into the pen, Angela and I were chased up the fence a few times by the rowdy ladies. We finally got her in the pen, coaxed her down the alleyway and into the chute. I set out my OB box, got my gloves and lube out, and went in to see what was going on. After feeling around, I said, “We've got a head back.” This particular presentation is challenging for someone like me with short arms as calves have very long necks, so reaching a head that is bent back can be difficult. I said, “We’ll need to get her out of the chute.” The worst thing in the world is for a cow to go down in the chute as it is difficult to get them out but also difficult to get the appropriate angles to pull the calf. Too late. Right after I said that, the heifer wobbled and went down. “Dadnabbit!” I said again. Or something like that. We got the halter on her and tried to coax her forward to no avail. We then decided that the head catch opening may be too small to drag her out, so we tried the side gait. Turns out the latch was frozen solid from the latest ice storm. We found a huge hammer and finally got it loose after hitting it enough times. Turns out this was also good stress relief. After shoving, grunting, and maybe even a little cussing, we got the heifer out of the chute with the halter tied to a nearby post. After even more shoving and grunting, I got the head straightened out and we pulled the calf. “It's a live one!” I said, which is always good news to the farmer. We finished caring for the heifer and her calf and started to put our stuff out of the way before we let her loose. As I went over to the opposite side of the gate to release her, she actually slipped out of her halter before I could make it over the gate, and she came after me. Apparently, she couldn't be bothered to move a muscle when we were trying to get her out of the chute, but I guess now her energy was replenished. I made it to the top of the gate and swooped my legs to the other side as she rammed it with her head and shook the gate back and forth. We were now in a safe spot, but how do we open the lot gate that goes out to pasture without her coming after us? Normally, I would let this be the producer’s problem, but I didn't think this elderly man had any business dealing with that on the icy footing. Unfortunately, we also had to walk through the frozen lot with the crazy heifer in it to get back to the truck. I decided to take my chances and grabbed a few buckets and ventured across the lot. Maybe the heifer would act better in a more open space or be too preoccupied with her calf to worry about us, but neither one of those hopes panned out, and she started to chase me. I dropped the buckets and saw a bail ring in the distance. I ran and jumped in the middle of it to get away from the heifer. While she was distracted by trying to get me through the bail ring, Angela opened the lot gate that went out to the pasture. We were finally able to carry our stuff through the lot and get to the truck. If there's one thing veterinarians know, it's that sometimes our patients can be pretty ungrateful. She went right to her baby and looked back at me with a don’t-you-come-close-with-your- human-germs look. As a new mom, I totally get it now. The farmer said Merry Christmas and we were on our way to celebrate with our families, enjoy food and friends, and I was also crossing my fingers that that was going to be my only on-call adventure for the evening. Going on call was one thing, but I knew better than to get out of the “free” services asked over the dinner table. I’m just wishing that a close family member would become a chiropractor so I can at least get fixed up after Christmas calls like that one.
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Jessica Stroupe, DVM
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August 2017
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