Ivor Markman

Ivor Markman

 

Not many people would consider a cow could be classified as a pet, but there’s no doubt some people, especially women farmers, definitely have a strong bond with their animals. 

On a recent trip to Bedford, I was fortunate to witness this love between humans and animals.

Anne Knox, farmer extraordinaire, was brought up on a farm so it’s not surprising the love of animals flows strongly through her veins.

Anne, a qualified nursing sister, and her husband Bryan, moved to the farm Norwood in the Bedford district a few years ago after her house in Lovemore Park burnt down.

“I had a manager for the first nine months, but he left. Then I had to do the farming myself,” said Anne.

“On a basic day I am up with the sun, winter or summer, have a morning muster with the men, plan the day and I send them off.

A two way radio is used to keep in contact with staff.

Luckily, Anne is fluent in Xhosa.

She’s a beef farmer and only milks four or five cows for the house to supply cream and butter.

Suddenly, as we sat chatting, the phone rang. A pregnant cow was in trouble. 

One, two, three and before you can say “jack sprat,” Anne was bounding across the veld in her bakkie to attend to the situation.

“This particular cow is a Jersey, one of the milk breed. Her name is Josephine,” she said.

When we arrived at the cow it was battling to sit up. She was trying to give birth to a calf, but couldn’t manage.

The crew pushed and shoved Josephine into an upright position until she was propped up against a 44 gallon drum.

The area had experienced a very dry winter and consequently Josephine’s condition had deteriorated. 

She contracted milk fever, a condition acquired when cows bleed all their calcium out to make milk before the cow is about to give birth. 

The cow then goes into a chemical imbalance.

“They go down and they can't get up,” said Anne.

I watched agog as Anne plunged a massive syringe, containing calcium boroglutamate to try and correct the calcium imbalance, into Josephine. 

Any human receiving an injection like that would flake out instantly, of that I am convinced.

“They got very thick skins so you can't be namby pamby about getting the needle in,” she said. “You've got to be positive about it.

She was clearly very concerned about Josephine’s condition. A few days previously the vet came and inserted an intravenously drip.

“She looked better but I knew she was ill so we kept an eye on her. We tried to help her up but she was still too weak,” she said.

The group watched as Josephine lay on the ground. She was clearly in distress, her condition clearly reflected in her eyes.

Before a calf can be pulled out of the cow’s uterus, it has to be established how the calf is presenting. 

The normal way of presenting is with the head and two legs pointing outwards.

“If you've got that it gives you the smallest diameter. That's the easiest way to get out,” said Anne.

The crew tugged and pulled, because Josephine was too weak to push, but she could not get the calf to emerge. 

Tension turned to concern as the team tugged. 

On closer inspection, it was established that Josephine had a malpresentation. 

“The head was turned to one side which makes it very difficult for her to give birth. So we had to push the calf back in, realign the head and then pull it out,” said Anne.

Deftly she went to work and through careful manipulation, pushed the calf back in and moved its head into the correct position.

Again the crew tugged and pulled. Then, in a flash, the calf suddenly shot out and started bawling. 

The sound was like music to the ears of all those present. 

The chances of survival had seemed so slim as Josephine had been down so long it was thought the calf might be dead. 

The calf was large and there’s no doubt, if left to nature, both it and her mother would have died.

The farm hands wiped off much of the afterbirth and Miracle was placed besides Josephine. 

Gently the mother licked the calf and the two placed their heads together.

Tears welled up in Anne’s eyes and she hugged neighbour Jenny Rush who had come to assist. 

The calf was immediately named “Miracle”.

But the drama was not yet over. 

As any farmer will tell you, the mother produces a special milk for the calf’s first suckling which contains essential anti-bodies.

Colostrum, the first milk, normally lasts about two days. It's like thick cream, very high in fats and anti-bodies.

“It's like an energy boost,” said Anne.

Although the Miracle had a bit of a suckle, it was far from sufficient so acting quickly, Stanley Witbooi and Thabo Kabelitscha then took a small bucket and proceeded to milk Josephine.