Big Red and her Twins
However, she was such a good mother, she wanted to protect them by concealing one. She showed up for hay feeding time with only the one black baby. This isn’t terribly unusual, but I kept watching for her to show up with the red baby.
The second time I saw her with only the black calf, I mounted my quad and went in search of the other one. Raised on a cattle ranch, I knew sometimes wise range cows will hide a younger calf while they graze or go to hay. I’ve found these “hidden” calves tucked away in some strange places. Tumbled rockpiles with small pockets between rocks, or a fallen tree with a big log, both make ideal spots. Both are even better if there’s a slight depression in the ground where the calf lies down. Riding nearby on the back of your horse, often won’t give you sufficient height to spot a baby lying flat to the ground, even the ears safely tucked down flat.
Because Big Red seemed to be doing well with the black calf, I hoped she’d found a good hiding place for the red baby, and left it tucked safely away. Of course, it wasn’t impossible the calf had been eaten by a big cat or a bear. I went looking to be sure. When I finally found the red baby, the tale became a column. Long-time readers may remember that story.
When looking for babies hidden away, I’d often find it flat on their belly, head and chin tight to the ground. A pair of ears sticking up in curiosity are easy to spot, so the little guys will often flatten their ears also. If you miss the color of the
When I saw Big Red was almost ready to have her next calf, I knew I’d better be watching for two calves. Three previous times she’s given birth to twins, raising them with no trouble. The first time was startling for I had no idea this big Santa Gertrudis cow was prone to doubling up.
There’s always a point of concern when a cow has twins. Will she “mother” them both well enough? First, having two calves at once, and being able to keep track of both, requires a great desire to be a good mother. This takes both skill and experience. Second, will she be able to provide sufficient milk to properly feed them?
She performed for this first pair of twins with ease and skill. It was evident she had plenty of milk, for the calves flourished at her side. After the first couple of days, when I’d been worried she’d lose track of one or the other of her calves, she was often seen with the two little ones tagging along. She had it under control
The second time she had twins, one was black and one red. I wasn’t worried about her mothering ability. She’d proven herself the year before. However, she gave me quite a start. She seemed to have no problem taking care of her offspring. When I first saw them shortly after birth, the little guys were foxy and perky. They had to be doing well, and she obviously was taking good care of them. hair among the rocks, grass, or logs, a curious ear popping up often helps reveal a well-chosen hiding spot.
It has always been my impression the old cow “speaks” to their baby with specific directions. “You lie down right here, keep your head and ears down, and stay there until I get back.”
I admit, I’ve never heard a cow having this serious chat with their calf, but there sure seems to be some form of communication. I suppose it’s possible there’s an instinct to stay where they are placed, but I prefer to think she gives strict instructions when she finds a suitable spot for the baby to lie down.
When the infant hears something interesting, the ears pop up and reveal a heretofore unseen hiding spot. I’ve found calves by speaking to them. They aren’t used to human voices, and just want to see what made a strange sound. Up come the ears.
This year Big Red’s twins are both red like her, neither with a white face. When I first saw them, one appeared to be slightly smaller. Still not entirely convinced she was going to take care of both babies I went into the back pasture to check. As soon as I got near the baby farthest from her, she immediately rushed toward me as if she intended to butt me away from her calf. I gunned the quad and moved away. She stopped and licked the second one. She was doing fine.
An hour or so later, I discovered she and the more mobile baby had gone over the hill to the west, leaving the smaller one unattended. The calf was up walking around, and the rest of my herd had gathered around it. This concerned me. I picked the calf up, draped him over the seat of the quad, and went to find Big Red. When I slid the calf to the ground, the old cow immediately took a run toward me, but stopped to lick the baby.
I was satisfied, and came back to the house.
Two days later, I walked through my patio and looked out in the back field to find Big Red, and only one baby. Then I heard a calf bawl somewhere near the front of my house. Curious, I walked that direction.
I looked toward the olive tree. No calf there. Nothing down toward the bridge over the ditch. No calf was in sight. In fact, no animals at all were visible. I knew the calf was close. I’d just heard it.
Then I discovered Big Red’s hiding place. A log lay next to my fence, almost touching on one end, angling away on the other. In the narrow groove between timber and fence huddled the calf.
His head was down, chin on the ground, and his ears flattened out. He was so flat to the ground I almost missed him.
The baby had called to Momma. When he heard me coming, he’d quickly laid back down and flattened out, exactly as his mother had told him. From the sound of him calling to her, his head had to be held up, and he may have even been standing. But when I got a look at him, he’d done exactly what Big Red had told him.