I don’t lead train my cattle, but I typically
acclimate them to the milking parlor, the stanchion, and the headgate before
calving. Misty, a naturally sweet and curious heifer, had made herself
available for scratches from the time she was born, but there’s a big
difference between a friendly calf that loves scratches and learning to be a milk
cow. Stepping into that milking parlor, the birthing hormones still raging and the
protective mother instinct overriding all reason, shouldn’t be a cow’s first
entry into the stanchion. Yet, that is
where we found ourselves.
Having a busy summer, I told
myself that in the weeks prior to Misty’s due date, I would work with her. I anticipated it would be easy. Her dam has been extremely motivated by a
bucket of grain. I suspected Misty would
as well. The days went by; it was one
thing after another. We had an out-of-town
visitor who realized she had Covid after she arrived. We kept her with us for a week, wanting to
make sure she was recovered before we took her home. Then the grandkids came for a week and there
wasn’t any time for training heifers.
There was barely time to comb my hair or walk the dog. I thought I would have time once the
grandkids went home but we returned them to Staunton on Friday evening and Misty
calved on Saturday morning.
I don’t like to wait longer
than 24 hours to begin milking my cows after calving. I know there are a lot of different opinions
on this, but it is my opinion that waiting makes it more likely that the cow
will develop mastitis. A tiny calf will
only drink so much milk the first few days and often picks one or two teats and
drinks only from those teats. I hear of
some folks waiting days or even weeks to milk their dairy cow for the first
time when it is likely that a cow is becoming engorged, uncomfortable, and very
likely developing mastitis in the teats the calf is not nursing. I decided to wait until Sunday afternoon to
bring Misty into the parlor for the first time, which would make it closer to 36
hours since she had calved because I had made a prior commitment for Sunday
morning and didn’t want to feel pressured or rushed the first time I tried to
bring Misty into the milking parlor.
When I tried to entice Misty
into the parlor that afternoon, she was not impressed. The grain meant nothing to her because she
had been grass-fed without additional grain.
She had no reason to take a step up into the milking parlor and walk
through the door. Her stoic expression
made me realize immediately I was going to have to exercise great
patience. It was not Misty’s fault that
I had not trained her before she gave birth.
I was at fault, and I would not take it out on her by being impatient. One tiny step at a time I moved her toward
the door. She saw no reason for what we
were doing. She gave me her stoic expression. Well, then, I would try putting her calf in
the parlor as that trick has always worked with new mommas. A momma cow typically will follow her calf
because she is being protective of it. Misty’s
calf is small, around 25 pounds or less.
I scooped him up with no problem and carried him to the stanchion. Instead of coming in after him, Misty merely
stood at the door and called softly for him to come back to her. No matter what, she was not stepping foot
inside the parlor to get him. Now, I
wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t want to
force her, so I accepted the fact that just getting her to the door had been
some success. I would try again later.
About an hour later, I
returned, and using the same stunts as I had used previously, I got Misty to
enter the parlor. I did not, however,
get her into the stanchion. Well, we had
made progress, no matter how small, and were ending on a positive note! In another hour, I came back with
reinforcement. Together, Mike and I
coaxed, bribed, and gently tried to push her to go into the stanchion. It wasn’t working. Finally, Mike went and got a metal panel/gate
and we used that to make the area smaller by creating a narrow ally where her
only choice was to step forward into the stanchion. We were patient, not wanting to force or
scare her. Finally, she stepped forward
and we were able to shut the headgate. She
did well. She was nervous and relieved
herself. She kept looking over at her
calf, but she did not go crazy. Her actions
were completely in line with what she was experiencing.
I have always leaned toward
gentle training with my animals but early on I practiced the ways of my mentors. They were good people and treated their
animals well, but also used more restraint and discipline with cattle than I
use now. Perhaps in the larger facilities with larger cattle and less time,
they have no other choice. When I began
to keep cattle of my own, it didn’t take me long to figure out that I wanted to
handle my cattle differently than the ways I had witnessed. That’s not a judgment on my part. I have been judgmental in the past, but age,
experience, and wisdom have taught me there are reasons people do things the way
they do them. Things don’t have to be
done my way. For instance, someone else
may need a cow that is lead trained so that they do not have to go through what
I am doing now with Misty. They would
not have to worry about bribing her into the stanchion because they could just
put a halter and lead rope on her and she would follow. Some farms are not set
up in such a way that a cow can be moved from one paddock to another without
crossing roads or unfenced areas and the cow must be haltered and led. There are many reasons why people do the
things they do, but on the other hand, people often do things a certain way
because someone else told them they must do it a certain way. I don’t do things because someone else tells
me it must be done that way or because it is a set precedent among the owners
of family cows. I do what works for me. People
who need lead-trained animals are happily pointed in a different direction
with my blessing when they inquire about my cattle.
Some cattle are easier than
others to train, and sometimes when a cow is violent and trying to hurt us, we
must practice more restraints and discipline.
With most of my cattle, when they are given the opportunity to learn to
trust me in their own time, we establish a working relationship that is
comfortable for both of us. I remember
the first time I really contemplated that these mother cows, upon giving
birth, are protective and nurturing of their young because of the flow of oxytocin,
the hormone that makes birthing and lactation possible. I remember thinking about my own birth experience
and this shared hormone of all mammal mothers making me protective, nurturing,
and emotional. Why would the birthing
experience be any different for these bovines than it was for me? My base feelings toward my children upon
their birth were less intellectual and more primal and fiercer. Connecting with my cattle in this manner
gives me more understanding, patience, and compassion for their situation. There’s a fine line between anthropomorphism and
realistic expectations based on science.
Just because this “lesser mammal” appears not to have the advanced
intellect that we are so proud of as humans, does not mean that she experiences
less of the primal urges I experienced when I gave birth. Perhaps the only difference is that as humans
we do understand that the doctor, nurse, or midwife reaching out for our baby is
going to return that baby to us unharmed.
I cannot communicate that to a bovine and if the altered hormones make
an otherwise trusting cow anxious or even combative, then I need to give those
hormones time to calm down and I need to work gently to rebuild trust. This is not done by forcefully tearing the
animal away from her baby and beating her into submission (physically or mentally). Those are my thoughts, my feelings, and the way
I manage my farm. It’s not always a
popular way to do things with other breeders or family cow owners, but it works
for me.
So, that is how I came to be
standing on one side of the sliding, parlor door this morning with my first-calf
heifer standing on the other side with nothing between us but a simple step up which
she would not take until I shook the bucket of grain at her, talked sweetly, gave her a little taste, and backed slowly away enticing her to follow.
She comes willingly now to the barn but just not over the step and into the parlor! In five days, she has learned that she likes
being in the stanchion and enjoys the grain.
She has learned that her calf will survive a few moments without
her. She has learned that the milking
machine is not going to hurt her and in fact, gives her relief from a very full
udder. She’s learned that when the
milking machine comes off and the headgate is opened, she doesn’t have to exit
in fear, instead, she can stand there and quietly enjoy the rest of her
meal. She’s one of those sweet cows that
moves slowly, eats slowly, and has never tried to kick the humans despite her initial
trepidation. When she begins to let down
her milk (another reaction to stimulation and hormones) she gives the softest,
quietest, guttural moo that’s a mixture of pleasure, longing, and love. It’s the type of response that a mother cow
gives to her calf, but she is doing it for me.
I have never had a cow do that before and it melts my heart. She’s precious and perfect, but still, she
will not make that slight step up and into the milking parlor without my
elaborate display of shaking the bucket, coaxing, and allowing her a taste.
This morning, after going
through the ritual once again, I laughed at her and said, “Misty, my
training is complete. You have me right
where you want me. This trick of waiting
for this personal interaction with me before you will come into the parlor is
pure manipulation on your part now. You
are a stinker, and I love you.”
We will break that habit
eventually. Either she will forget one
day in her excitement to come into the stanchion for her treats or I will hold
out on her until she realizes she is no longer going to get that personal touch.
For right now, I think I
will just spoil her a little bit longer.