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The first batch of heifers is almost ready to leave my farm and embark upon their future career as dairy cows.
I wish I had written down a list of my preconceived ideas (both negative and positive) about 18 months ago, because I’m fairly sure it would be completely different from the reality of the situation.
Probably the biggest difference has been the stockman’s attachment to his animals.
I half expected to be a reluctant rearer, forcing myself to cast an eye over these grotesque little females and constantly apologising to other beef farmers for allowing a herd of walking coat hangers to set foot on the same hallowed turf as some U-grading Charolais bullocks.
Of course, nothing could have been further from the truth, and I have been forced to reassess my opinions on the pleasures of looking after livestock.
Not only does the gaining nature of these docile animals make them infinitely more attractive than their more nervous suckled cousins, but my misplaced emphasis on the importance of conformation now feels like out and out naivety.
Such has been my Road to Damascus transformation that I am seriously considering moving to a completely different type of beef animal for that part of the farm business. I realise that buying hand-reared store cattle (originating from the dairy herd) represents a seismic shift in carcase quality, but if it means increasing the likelihood of having no raging lunatics crashing around my fields, then it would be a welcome development.
Obviously, there is the whole issue of money, but I strongly suspect they’d be bought cheaper, sold for less and the gap in the middle might well remain the same?
Susceptibility
It hasn’t been wall-to-wall sunshine and one aspect that I had never considered was the young heifers’ susceptibility to lungworm. Despite getting caught a bit cold-footed last year, it almost happened again this autumn.
This year’s intake of heifer calves were treated for lungworm on 4 September (Cydectin pour-on) and again (due to a slight cough) on 7 October.
Even with this belt and braces approach, they displayed all the visible signs of lungworm on 2 November and received an Ivermectin product, although the gap between treatments was barely four weeks.
My hunch was probably correct, because four of them developed a wee touch of pneumonia over the next few days, due to the presence of dead and dying worms being coughed up.
Mild and damp grazing conditions during the autumn seem to heavily favour lungworm development, and I have learned to ignore some of the persistency claims made by the manufacturers of all anthelmintic products.
Instinct
Purely by chance, I have also discovered that these batches of young cattle are on something of a learning curve when it comes to instinct and common sense.
On a horribly wet and windy morning in late November, I fed the 32 young heifers their meal at the top of a nine-acre hill at the rented farm.
There was a round feeder at the bottom of the field which was completely in shelter and they emerged from here to make their way up to the troughs.
It was one of those mornings when blended rations are not ideal, because pouring the meal into the feeders resulted in every heifer being coated with a thick layer of wet dust.
I happened to call back again five hours later, and noticed cattle hunched together at the top of this same field. On further investigation, it became obvious that they had finished their meal, then turned their backs to the driving rain rather than walk straight into the teeth of a gale.
I had to call them down the field and they reluctantly followed me, but it was comical to see them twisting their heads from side to side as they tried to avoid the rain droplets hitting them square in the face.
I’m certain that older cattle would have had the wit to make their way towards shelter much sooner, and it just goes to show how much ‘knowledge transfer’ is unwittingly passed from dam to calf. It may be the bovine equivalent to being part of a Business Development Group.
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