Last Sunday while driving through a rural area with a friend, Vanessa, we spotted cows grazing by a small river. Captivated by the attractive pastoral scene, we stopped to take a photograph and immediately observed a calf, lying on her side, extremely listless, in the searing midday sun.
Was she dying? Suffering from heatstroke? We sapped her head with water, and then carried her across the river to the tethered mother cow, which seemed to be distressed.
The calf stood instantly as the mother nuzzled her. After a few minutes, when no nursing ensued, we wondered if the mother was rejecting her. Was the calf unsure of how to feed? We tried placing her near to the mother’s nipples, but the sudden lowered head and pre-charge stance quickly stopped us.
I made a phone call to a friend from the area and got the number of the farmer who, fortunately, was driving by at that time. After we explained the situation, he tried, unsuccessfully, to get the mother to accept the calf (which, he said, had been born prematurely the day before). While he collected milk from the mother, we rushed to the village shop to buy a baby bottle. As there were none, we purchased a squeeze bottle normally used for mustard.
When driving back to meet the farmer, a local Christmas carol popped to mind and I started singing: "The Virgin Mary had a baby boy..."
Vanessa joined in and we laughed and sang lustily.
"He came from the glory... He came from the glorious Kingdom..."
*Let's call her Glory," I suggested. We agreed – it fitted.
As cows are worth a lot of money, we were surprised (and relieved) when the farmer told us we could take the calf. Maybe, to most farmers, premature cows would not be good future milk or meat producers. But, with her soft fur and large beautiful, trusting eyes, to us, she was a living being, deserving of love, care and the opportunity to develop into a treasured pet. As animal lovers who do not eat meat, the idea of giving her, when grown-up, to a farmer to become a "dairy machine" or meat slabs was out of the question.
Lying comfortably on a towel on Vanessa's lap, Glory rode with us to a farm (recommended by a friend) where a kind farmer gave us a litre of frozen goat's milk with colostrum, and made a nursing device – an innovative "nipple" crafted from a piece of hose and inserted securely into a Blue Waters bottle.
By the time we got home, Glory seemed to be wilting – possibly after the long drive. Her sucking reflex was weak, but she was swallowing milk squeezed into her mouth.
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Perhaps as it was Sunday, calls to veterinarians were initially unanswered. When one vet eventually responded, we were advised to feed her 50ml of milk every two hours. A sleepless night-into-morning ensued, with Google as our best friend: "How do calves lie down?"... "Incontinence/constipation in calves"... "Best way to bottle feed calf"...
When Google led us to "stomac
