On our drive back to the farm, aunt Stacy and I speculated on the condition of the calf. Before we even left Lake City, we both agreed that little Fighter was probably done fighting. We were certain that the little bull calf was dead, and my uncle Wade probably already took the little calf to his final resting place by the pond. The only evidence of him ever being alive would be the straw left behind in the lawn and the few pictures we took of him.
When we arrived at the farm, I was surprised to see the hay feeder still set up under the trees. There was no sign of uncle Wade's truck, but the gate to the pasture was open! My aunt and I looked at each other, and then she decided to drive into the pasture to see if we could find Wade. We drove to the crest of the hill and immediately came up to uncle Wade's truck. Just ahead of him was the herd of cattle, with mama cow standing nearby.
We watched as uncle Wade cautiously got out of his truck, followed by his wife, Jen. Together, Wade and Jen dropped the tailgate of the truck, revealing a much more healthy looking bull calf in the back. I could not believe what I was seeing. In fact, I tried to convince myself that my uncle had taken his son's advice, and tried to bring the second calf to the first calf to get mama to bond with them both. But, as I thought this, I saw mama's second little calf poked his head out from behind her to see what Wade was doing.
My uncle Wade lifted little Fighter out of the back of the truck and stood him up. My jaw dropped as Wade took a few steps towards the cattle, and little Fighter followed.
Unfortunately, mama cow wanted nothing to do with Wade or her calf. Even when Stacy and I drove away from the pasture to see if giving the cattle space would relieve some of the stress, Wade did not successfully get Fighter to bond with his mom. About 20 minutes after we initially found Wade in the pasture with Fighter, he returned to the yard with Fighter in the back of his truck.
Wade and Jen dropped the tailgate and put Fighter back down on the lawn. Wade lifted the hay feeder and rolled it out of the way for a little bit while we let Fighter wander around on his wobbly legs. I noticed a few tears streaming out of Fighter's eyes, which could be there for a handful of reasons, including distress. Yes, cattle do cry when they get very stressed out and/or severely injured, just like we do. Apparently, mama cow wanted nothing to do with her first calf. They got Fighter right up to her, and he even attempted to nurse, but mama cow just kicked him in the head then pushed him to the ground with her huge head. If Wade hadn't stepped in as soon as she pushed her calf down, she would've killed Fighter. She was seconds away from stomping the poor calf to death, but Wade stepped in and scared her off before she could finish the job. Fighter was a little shaken up but ok.
Apparently, this is not uncommon. Beef cattle are some of the best mothers in the cattle world, but most of the time, even they can only keep track of one calf at a time. Diary cattle, on the other hand, are some of the most terrible mothers in the world. Since they've been selectively bred for milk over thousands of years, their motherly instincts have slowly faded out. Dairy cows still have the instinct to lick their calves clean after birth, but more often than not, diary cows will forget about their calves soon after, or just violently reject them like mama cow did to poor little Fighter. That's why diary farmers, and many beef farmers, separate the cows from the calves shortly after birth. It's just not safe or humane to keep a calf with its mother when she is likely going to kill it a little later on, whether purposefully or just on accident.
I sat down in the straw with little Fighter as he attempted to take a few steps. He still had a lot of trouble, especially on the uneven ground. While I was sitting with him, he fell over a couple of times, and I had to pick him back up. But, he stayed standing for a full hour, fully alert of his surroundings. His eyes were wide, his ears were forward and occasionally twitched, he swished his tail, and even pressed his nose against the ground and my arm to explore his surroundings more. I was just speechless. Just hours before, that calf had been on its side barely breathing. But, for some reason, he was on his feet in the evening, alert and curious of his surroundings.
I didn't, and still don't know what uncle Wade did, or who he got involved, to save little Fighter's life. Maybe he finally got the vet out. Maybe he did nothing at all, and Fighter's survival was literally a miracle. Whatever happened, I was just overjoyed to see Fighter on his feet, and made sure to let pretty much everyone I knew that the little bull calf was going to make it.
