It is a pure pleasure to be a dairy farmer these mornings. We’re in pre-breeding mode: recording all heats. Cows are tail painted. Once the red tail paint for the first heat detected is worn off, it is replaced by green. This makes it easy to spot the cows that haven’t cycled yet.

Last year, we had 95% submitted for breeding. In all, 89% had been recorded pre-breeding. The lads are hoping to better that this year.

All the cows were checked for signs of endometritis with a tool called a Metricheck, about two weeks ago. This is infection in the uterus that prevents the cow from going in calf.

A percentage of the cows can have infection for several reasons after calving, but it may not always be visible to the farmer without investigation. This is Colm’s initiative, as he saw it done routinely in New Zealand.

The small cup-like instrument is inserted into the cow’s vagina. It collects a sample of the mucus there. The mucus is then easily checked for signs of infection. The cow is then treated and hopefully recovers and comes cycling, increasing the submission rate, and ultimately going in calf.

It was a big task to Metricheck all the cows. Colm was doing that job. Tim was condition scoring and administering the regular vaccinations, and I had the easy job of recording the information. It’s a great way to learn about the herd, when all the cows are receiving close inspection.

Bringing the cows home

These days, especially in the morning, the person bringing home the cows has to pay strict attention and record the cows that are going to dairy. All numbers are entered in the closed What’s App group of four people: Colm, Tim, Philip and me.

Last Saturday morning, the cows were in the plot furthest-away, down by the river. The sun was shining and the birds were singing. The cows were happy, lying down in the field with the wood behind them. The sun was warm on their backs.

I had a spring in my step. It might sound odd to some, but I was absolutely enjoying the experience. I don’t bring home the cows too often anymore. We had come to the yard that morning to find that some of the cows had come home while the rest stayed in the field. I volunteered to go for them, while Tim began milking.

Macra had pulled the boys away for the weekend, and it was like old times when it was just Tim and me. The quiet around Woodside was comforting and unusual.

Now that Colm is home farming I am less important in the enterprise. The men would say that I’m not less important. If I perceive something to be so, then it possibly is so – or maybe it is of my own making.

It does take time to get used to changing dynamics. I was always Tim’s go-to person. Now it’s Colm, maybe Philip or even Diarmuid. Nevertheless, it makes for different experiences and changing roles, and I embrace it all wholeheartedly.

The journey home

Speedy, Tim’s trustworthy sheepdog, was by my side. Nala, Philip’s dog, was bounding around too. She doesn’t bother with the cows. Speedy was, as usual, vibrating with energy and watching and waiting for his commands.

I stood in the field to observe and record the cows going to dairy. They began to walk without any utterance from me. As soon as I called out “Come on, girls”, Speedy was away to the back of the herd to slowly begin his work. He really is a super sheepdog.

As we progress, I see all the cows head towards the river, rather than the gap further up on the right. Their attention is on a man walking his dog. I’ve never seen such a large dog.

I always make a point of talking to the many people who walk the land that we farm. To be fair, we never have issues with them. They respect fences and don’t worry the animals.

I grab Nala by the collar as I don’t have a lead with me. I have to go towards the man to get the cows and Speedy moving again. He is now more interested in this dog. We exchanged pleasantries and the man tells me his dog is a Giant English Mastiff. He had him on a tight leash.

As we chat, Nala gives one flick of her head and pulls out of her collar, leaving it hanging in my hand. I think she’s going to be eaten up there and then. The man assures me that the Giant Mastiff wants to play too!

I regain control of Nala and we head home, the cows, the dogs and me. As we stroll along the lane, my phone rings. It’s Tim wondering where I’ve got to and is there something wrong with me? I assure him that all is well and that we have rounded the last bend for home.

Usual chores

Closing the collecting yard gate, I can feel the warmth of the sun. The thermometer in the shed reads 15°C. My work has reduced considerably, as 30 of the calves have gone outside to grass. They will remain on milk for a few more days.

The men now feed them with the loader. I feed the girls in the shed. I walk behind them as they drink and release the clips on their jackets. I pull them back and they step out effortlessly, without interrupting the suck.

Shiny healthy coats are revealed, restoring their individuality. They will go out next week. It’s been a good spring.