We’re deep into spring, and you don’t need to travel far from any Midwestern city to be surrounded by unmistakable evidence of the season. As Pulitzer Prize-winning author Willa Cather wrote in “My Antonia”: “The vital essence of it (is) everywhere.”
On our farm in Muscatine County, Iowa, three hours west of Chicago, spring means calving season. Everywhere we look, we see twos — a black Angus cow with a calf at her side — each one a perfect miniature of its mother.
Angus cows are renowned for their strong maternal instincts as well as for “calving ease,” meaning they usually give birth easily. Given the average birth weight for an Angus calf is about 80 pounds, that’s no small feat!
For stockmen and women, there’s nothing more rewarding than a 283-day pregnancy that results in a contented cow and a healthy calf.
Cows tend to have their calves during daylight hours, typically outdoors in a pasture or pen near the barn, and it’s not unusual to have an opportunity to quietly observe the birth process. Regardless of the number of times I’ve witnessed such an event, it’s always a memorable experience.
Cows often separate themselves from the rest of the herd, then lie down to give birth. As labor progresses, first to appear are the two front hooves. With additional contractions, the calf’s nose and head appear, followed by the rest of its body. It’s magical to see the cow immediately turn to welcome her wide-eyed offspring — almost as if they’ve always known each other.
Cattleman Bruce Kiesewetter, an Illinois native and graduate of the University of Illinois’ renowned animal sciences program, has witnessed well over 1,000 births during his career. “I still get a little emotional when that calf hits the ground,” he said. “It brings me joy and satisfaction every time.”
Moments after birth, the cow stands and starts vigorously licking her wet calf — clearing amniotic fluid to ensure the calf’s breathing, stimulating circulation and drying its coat to prevent heat loss. She is instantly protective, sniffing and memorizing its scent so she will always be able to identify her baby. Soft mewing sounds tell the calf: “I’m here, and you’re safe with me.” Guided by generations of instinct, even a heifer, a first-time mother, almost always knows exactly what to do.
In a half hour or so, the newborn gathers itself and stands unsteady on wobbly legs. After months of waiting, he’s meeting his mother face to face for the first time, and it’s like the beginning of the world. Then with a little nudging, the clumsy newborn finds the udder bulging between the cow’s back legs and hungrily suckles colostrum so critical for its first feeding. This unique “first milk,” as is the case for all mammals, including humans, provides vital antibodies to protect against diseases as well as concentrated nutritional support so necessary for the early days of life.
Unlike dairy breeds, multiple births in Angus cattle are quite rare, but this year, we’ve been surprised by not one but two sets of twins. When it occurs, twins tend to be smaller at birth, and the cow doesn’t always accept both calves. We’ve been fortunate the two cows are doing fine with their increased responsibilities — attentive to both calves and producing enough milk to enable them to thrive.
Soon it will be summer, and the pastures will be dotted with coal black cattle — cows grazing in nutritious grass, ambling to the creek for water, always watchful for the safety of their calves. Growing offspring will nurse when hungry, play like puppies and nap in the shade of the old oak trees. We’ll drive an all-terrain vehicle out every day to check on them — probably spending more time than necessary sitting quietly in a sea of domesticity.
And who can blame us? There’s nothing more satisfying than a successful calving season. And as Bruce said, “It brings joy and satisfaction. Every time.”
Susan Koch is a retired chancellor of the University of Illinois Springfield. She lives in Iowa City where she and her husband farm and raise purebred Angus cattle.
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