Meathman's Diary: The midwife in the wilderness

A quick riddle for you: In the last month I’ve overseen dozens of births, fed countless bottles and provided post-delivery care for as many new mothers. But I’m neither a parent nor a medical professional. What am I?

Given the time of the year, the influx of milk lorries on the road and the fact that the countryside is alive with the sound of calves bleating there is no prizes for guessing the correct answer: A dairy farmer.

Calving season for spring 2022 is in full swing (there are two main calving seasons a year but for simplicities sake we’ll focus on the spring one). It follows a familiar pattern every year and for the purpose of alliteration I will call the three As: Anticipation, Application, and Aftermath.

Anticipation:

Usually starts around the middle of November, but for some this can be earlier. In theory it involves preparation for the deluge of new babies arrive each spring (cleaning out pens, getting feeding equipment ready and such) but in practise it also involves a lot of procrastination, talking about what you have to do but not actually doing it and complaining about how busy you’re going to be to all and sundry. For non-farming folk think of the moaning you did in the months leading up to the Leaving Cert and it’ll give you have a good idea of what this entails.

Application:

The prep is done and so is the talking. It’s time to get down to business. The business in question involves suspending your social life for three months as you become a 24/7 midwife, paediatrician, and nursery owner, added to your other commitments which require a working knowledge of meteorology, accountancy, mechanics, global trade, animal physiology, EU and government regulations and parish pump politics among others.

Immediately after every birth might seem frantic a first, but it becomes rhythmically soothing thereafter. Tag, feed, spray, repeat.

Tag: give the calf a yellow ear tag for identifying purposes.

Feed: Give him/her three to four litres colostrum (colloquially known as beestings) - the first milk from the cow after calving, which gives the calves vital antibodies required to survive.

Spray: Spray the calf’s naval with iodine to prevent infection. Repeat: Do it all again because in the time you’ve been spending doing the first three steps four more roaring bundles of joy have been born.

That’s before you even consider the idea of things like breeches, c-sections and other complications. Also the concepts of day and night are lost on cows so have a sit/lie down with your bed and explain that you still love them but you’re going on a break for a while.

Aftermath:

You re-emerge from the wilderness like Our Lord spending 40 days and nights in the desert. Unkempt, underfed but ultimately enlightened after three months of solitude and self-reflection.