Cow #236 is perpetually lame. In fact we call her Spraddle Legs as she walks with a distinctive rear end swing. All winter she was the last one to get to the feed ground, but went the furthest from the feed ground to graze. Through calving, we made countless trips to check on “that cow that didn’t come in” and it was usually #236 making her slow way in for hay.
The Head Honcho was checking cows the other day, looked down toward the road and saw four cow legs flailing in the air. A cow was doing the backstroke in Peabody’s Pond, a shallow spring fed bend in the creek named after our old dog that used to swim there.
#236 was on her back, head under water, but with enough strength to pull her head up and blow to clear the water out of her nose. Not as spry as he once was, the Head Honcho says he thought he was going to end up in the pond under the cow as he attempted a rescue.
Luckily there was an old rope in the bed of the Ranger, so he roped one back leg, tied it to the Ranger. He didn’t have enough power to pull her over the bank, but he pulled her along the bank about 30 feet until her hind end bumped into a hummock and he couldn’t pull her any further. By then, she had rolled upright so he untied the rope and went for help.
Both sons came to the rescue with tractor and chain. They pulled the old girl out of the pond and well away from the bank then removed the rope and chain. We checked on her later that night and she was venturing too close to the bank. She was more wobbly than normal, one hind leg barely worked and her ears hung to her knees.
We tried to move her away from the bank but she kept veering toward the creek. Finally the Head Honcho said, “Let her go. There’s only so much we can do for them.” And as we drove off, we were discussing whether or not she’d survive the night.
But she did!
The next day, once again she was the last one to the feed ground, but when she arrived she created chaos. The other cows had no idea what that mud covered thing was so were pushing her feeble body around, knocking her this way and that. So we (I say we but I was the only one afoot!) walked her about 1/2 mile to the lot near the house and put her in with a few two year old heifers that hadn’t calved yet. They were curious, but less aggressive than the old cows.
We thought she would lose her calf from the ordeal, but a few nights later, she gave birth to a set of twins. The Head Honcho said, “That poor old soul – as if she didn’t have enough problems!”
She’s raising one, though even that has been a bit of a struggle. But with each spring rain she looks more like a cow. Even without the weight of twins her spraddle legged gait hasn’t improved, but the one legged pull through the mud doesn’t seem to have done any permanent damage. One ear still hangs, but now only to her chin.
Sandy Snider Stahl 