Wellie's Castration Story

When we decided last summer that Wellie would be castrated, I talked to our vet about when and how to do it.  He advised doing it when Wellie was 4-5 months old, by cutting rather than banding.  He wanted to wait until Wellie was old enough for his vaccines and fly season was past.

He said he would give Wellie a shot of tetanus antitoxin as well as a tetanus vaccine (and his other vaccines) at the same time.  In the absence of a previous tetanus vaccine, the antitoxin would prevent any chance of tetanus while the vaccine built up immunity over a two week period.  We had heard tragic stories about people who castrated calves and gave tetanus vaccines, only to have the calves die of tetanus before the vaccines could build up immunity.

Unfortunately, life got in the way for the vet and us, and we were unable to get him here when planned.  Finally, I decided that at 8 1/2 months Wellie really needed to be castrated, and I called another vet.  (We like to keep good relations with several vets for cases just like this when one can't make it.)  The second vet also prefers castrating as less painful, uses the same tetanus prevention protocol, and agreed to use a local anesthetic.  So we set a date for the deed.

On Feb. 11 we put Wellie into the squeeze chute.

The vet folded down several of the squeeze bars so he could reach Wellie and administered the local anesthetic.  He gave it time to take effect while he gave vaccines to Wellie and Ebony.

I saw that the vet used a tool called a Newberry knife and made a slit in the back of the scrotum.  After that I went up by Wellie's head and did not see the actual operation.  I learned later that some vets cut off the bottom portion of the scrotum to allow for drainage, but ours made an incision in the middle.  It bled a little, but not much, and the vet said it would swell up and remain swollen for several days.  When I asked about disinfecting the site, he said I could use 1/2% iodine, so I sprayed some on.

During the operation, Royal came over to check on Wellie.  Of course, when it was his turn later to get in the squeeze chute to get a magnet, he did NOT want to go in!  I assured him that considering the per capita price we had paid for his testicles, they were quite safe!

Wellie jumped more over his immunizations than he did over the local.  He struggled a bit during the surgery, but less than I have seen cows fight over a shot.  Although the vet says they have more pain with banding, I don't think there is a painless way to castrate.

I know some farms do not castrate meat animals, but we simply do not have enough pastures to keep intact bull calves separate from cows and heifers.  As he has gotten older, Wellie has engaged in more head-butting challenges with Royal and Sir Loin, the older steer.  Being so small, he gets pushed around, and although he has never been hurt, I hope that he will now act less like a bull.

I do not like castration.  I wish it didn't have to be done, and I'm sure Wellie did, too.  But if we are going to be responsible breeders, we have to make sure that a bull calf that is not breeding quality is not breeding our cows and heifers.

I kept a frequent eye on Wellie to be sure he was okay.  The rest of that day and the next, he was moving slowly (to be expected), but was nursing, eating hay and chewing his cud.  Then on the morning of the 13th, I found him laying partly on his side with his legs spread out as if to keep them off his swollen scrotum.  When I got him up to check on him, his rumen was hollow (showing he had not eaten a lot of hay), and he looked peaked.  Half of Siobhan's udder was full, so he had obviously not nursed much, and I decided to take his temperature.  It was 24° out, so Wellie might be expected to register lower than the bovine normal of 101.5°, but his temperature was 103.9°.

I was quite concerned and called the vet, who had gone out of town!  Not only that, his partner does not do farm calls, and he didn't have another vet to cover for him.  So I called the original vet I had hoped to have do the castration.  He agreed that Wellie's temperature was too high and said if I would meet him, he would give me an antibiotic.  I made the two-hour round trip and came home with Excede, a long-lasting antibiotic, as well as a bottle of Banamine to relieve pain and fever.  Pain inhibits animals from healing, and when they are given pain relief, they tend to heal more quickly.

Herb was gone all day, and I was pretty sure from previous experience giving shots to cattle, that I would not be able to do it alone, even with the squeeze chute.  So I called on our neighbor, Randy, who came over with his son to help.  Excede is very thick and must be given sub-cutaneously behind the ear--never in a vein or muscle--using a large-bore needle.  Banamine goes in the neck muscle with a smaller needle.  Wellie objected strenuously enough, even in the chute, that I was very thankful for help holding him.

Randy, who grew up with cattle and had seen many castrations, felt that the bulge of tissue protruding from Wellie's incision was not normal.  I had no frame of reference at all, but tended to agree with him.  When I posted a photo later, other cattle owners agreed.  Once Wellie was medicated, I took a bucket of hot water and cleaned the incision of dried exudate, making sure it could continue to drain as necessary.  I also applied oil of oregano around the incision on the advice of my family cow friends.  Within a couple hours, Wellie was obviously feeling better, eating better and had nursed Siobhan out.

Herb and I gave him Banamine the next morning to make sure he continued to feel well and eat well.  He objected much more vigorously than he had the day before, so I decided that if he felt that good, he didn't need any more Banamine.

Wellie is back to normal now, and his scrotal swelling is gone.  He's eating well and acting lively.  Here he is visiting with his buddy Sir Loin at the barnyard gate.

Today Wellie wanted to nurse, and Siobhan pushed him away several times.  (That's another story.)  In a fit of temper, he charged one of the ducks.  The snow in the barnyard was slippery and crusty with ice, so Wellie hunched his back and crow-hopped across the barnyard, landing each jump on all four feet, pursuing the hapless duck who fled with flapping wings as fast as his short little legs could go.

Without a camera, all I could do was stand there and laugh.  The duck escaped with everything intact except his dignity, and I was just happy to see Wellie feeling so fine.

Welcome Home!

I was gone to Virginia for 8 days, and when I got home, Misty was the first one to greet me.  (Herb wasn't home yet and didn't witness the welcome he was going to have to live up to.)

The photo was taken after Misty's welcome routine because I couldn't possibly have used a camera while it was going on.  She whirled, she twirled, she leaped.  She did all of this while spinning in circles around me, moaning deep in her chest.  Now THAT was a welcome!

Hero showed how glad he was to have me home by wrestling with Misty to show off.

I knew what they both meant!

The chickens and ducks came running to meet me at the barnyard gate.

Sterling sat and purred at me and actually let Rascal eat first.

 The ducks aren't demonstrative, but I had to get this guy's photo in while he looks nice.  The ducks were molting when I left (that's NOT a pillow fight you see behind him!), and now they're bright white . . . for a while.

As soon as everyone down below heard the Doodad, they all headed out to greet me.  Now that's a welcoming committee.

After everyone got treats, I walked over to check the water.  Siobhan followed closely, hoping for more treats.

Have you ever wondered how a cow begs?  This is how!

Julie is below Angel & Brandy on the totem pole, so she got chased off.

She took her revenge out on Ebony and Boudin by chasing them away.  (Animals have never heard of the Golden Rule.)

I had to smile at this view of Siobhan and Julie, front and rear.  I do believe they're every bit as big as Angel & Brandy, just more spread out!

Ebony has a bit of spread, too, although I think most of it is winter coat.

Jet was missing from my "Welcome Home" because he was boarding at the vet's, and I got home too late to get him that night.

The next morning I brought Jet back home, and he was "welcomed" by Bonnie and Hero.  It was a game, BUT Jet was definitely the underdog!  I much prefer the welcome I got!

No matter how far I roam or how much fun I have, it's always good to come home!

A Trip to Paradise

Last week I visited my sister and her family in Virginia.  Ever the great hostess, she asked if there was anything I'd like to do in Virginia.  "Visit a Dexter farm!" I replied.  Barbara and her two youngest sons were actually excited about the idea--aren't they sweet?!  So I pulled up the ADCA website on my iPad, found the list of members in Virginia, and looked up those who had websites to see how far away they were.  (Let me say a word here to all of you Dexter breeders who don't have websites yet.  The websites let my "fingers do the walking" on my iPad rather than calling a long list of phone numbers.  A website--even one so simple as this blog--is the way people are going to find you nowadays!)

Right off the bat I recognized the name "genebo" from several Dexter forums I follow.  He was less than three hours away, so I called to see if he likes visitors.  He does, so we set up a date to visit Paradise Farm.

Gene very kindly met us out at the highway in his Kawasaki Mule and took us straight to meet his cattle.  As soon as they saw him opening a bale of hay, they headed in to the barn.

Here is Gene's pride and joy, Brenn of Paradise, his stud bull. Barbara had met FF Lil' Christmas Cash when he was boarding with us this summer and seen how docile he is, but I think she was surprised to find that although Brenn and all Gene's cattle have horns, they were not in the least intimidating.  (Her only previous experience was with our first (and only horned) cow, and she was not a good ambassador for horns!)

I'm afraid I made the trip to meet Gene and his cattle with an ulterior motive--I intended to pick Gene's brain!  (In the nicest way, of course!)  Since we've bought a bull calf who will be arriving in January, the first question I asked was how to train a bull.

Gene explained to all of us about flight zones and showed us the best way to approach a bull (or a cow for that matter), moving in toward the shoulder, steadily and confidently.

Next he explained about scratching a bull's neck behind the head or anywhere else on their body--but don't play with their head.  And don't ever let them butt you!

He went on to show us how his cattle all know where their horns are and how they are very careful not to hit him.

Gene has a lead cow (sorry, Gene, I've forgotten her name).  Brenn doesn't lead the herd; she does.  But Brenn IS the undisputed King!  When he comes over to eat, all the girls move over for him.  But most importantly, Gene is the Boss over all.  Everyone respects Gene!

Here everyone is sharing the hay peacefully, but Brenn obviously has the spot he wants.  The cow next to him kept bumping his side with her horn, but he didn't mind because it didn't hurt and wasn't done aggressively.  No one even came close to bumping Gene, though, nor any of us.

Gene pulled out some bread, which Brenn had obviously been expecting.

 Barbara and Brenn met up close and personal.

Everyone got bread and a chance to feed Brenn.  He was happy to give us all a turn!

Then Gene took us over to meet his youngest heifer, a pretty long-legged girl who is just beginning to overcome her baby shyness.

My youngest nephew got elected to see if the heifer would eat out of his hand.  She wouldn't, but she's almost there.

Of course I had to have a photo even though Gene claims he's not photogenic and I know I'm not!  (I wish I'd thought to take one at the house later when we met Gene's lovely wife, Beverly, but by then the guys had started talking antique tractors and it didn't occur to me to try to tear them away.)  I think that along with all the attributes of Dexters, we should add to the list: Not only are they friendly, but they help build friendships among their humans!

We learned about Gene's feeding plan and how it works symbiotically with his manure handling.  Here is his Manure Handling Squad, a bevy of (mostly Muscovy) ducks.  We saw the evidence of how well his system works, although when Gene pulled the bread out, the ducks abandoned their cow patties at full speed!  We were all laughing by the time the last piece of bread disappeared.

We left the herd grazing peacefully to ride up to the beautiful house situated on the far side of a tranquil pond.  I was driving and couldn't take a photo, but you can see the house on the Paradise Farm website.  It may be named for Gene's grandmother, Mary Paradise, but it's the biblical meaning that comes to mind looking at that scene.

We all hated to leave and would have gladly stayed many more hours if we hadn't had family waiting back home and a three-hour drive to get there.  Heading out the tree-lined drive, I thought of Anne of Green Gables and wondered what she might have called this peaceful lane from Paradise.

Thank you, Gene and Beverly, for sharing your piece of Paradise with us!

R.I.P., Ping

We adopted Ping in May, 2011 when her owner couldn't keep her.  We called her Ping because she made a little noise that sounded like sonar, "Ping, ping, ping, ping."

In June she joined the older Muscovy ducks in the barnyard.  THEY were the ugly ducklings (although they got uglier with age).

They were fascinated with poor Ping who often found herself the center of attention.

Then in late 2011 our remaining female Muscovy duck, Jemima Puddleduck, was killed, and Ping was the lonely petunia in the onion patch--the sole female among five males.  Her life became miserable until Herb managed to catch her in May 2012, and we moved her to the Home Pasture.

In this safe refuge Ping was able to grow back her feathers and live a peaceful life.

Now Ping had a swimming pool all to herself, and she often took luxurious morning baths, preening and combing her feathers.

She still got out of the way when the pigs wanted a bath, but she found them to be good pasture mates.  She learned that such sloppy eaters tended to scatter bits that she could enjoy, and when she saw us coming with food, she would greet us with excited, loud squawking quacks.

After the pigs left, Ping's next pasture mates were Rambo and Obaama.  They weren't such good buddies when they got bigger because they tended to run right over her trying to get to their food.  But Ping stuck with them, quacking gamely for her share.  She was the mascot for a succession of animals from pigs to sheep to cattle and turkeys.

We think the drakes had injured Ping's legs because she always walked funny, even for a duck, and being run over by the sheep a couple of times didn't help.  Yesterday evening Herb found poor Ping lying dead by the pasture gate when he went out to take Misty to bed.  Our best guess is that one of the cows or sheep stepped on her and fatally injured her.

We will miss you, Ping.  We'll miss hearing your loud quack, announcing supper time to everyone; watching your graceful morning baths; and smiling at your funny waddle.  The pasture will be a much more lonely place without your presence.  Rest in peace, Ping.

More Introductions Around the Farm

Herb and I took Jet and Bonnie for a walk the other evening.  This time we headed out back to show them a bit of the farm.

You've really got to watch where you walk when you walk the puppies because they're everywhere!

Jet met turkeys up a little closer, but Bonnie wasn't too sure about them.

Then we went in the barnyard so Jet could meet the ducks, but they weren't too sure about him!  Bonnie was sure she didn't like the clanging chain on the gate!

Jet would go where he was supposed to as long as Misty was ahead of him . . .

... or Hero.  If they were ahead of him I could hardly keep up!

Jet discovered that dried manure makes a yummy snack.

It took Bonnie a bit longer to get used to Herb's style of walking, but as soon as she saw Jet she charged ahead.

When we got to the bottom of the hill, the puppies got to meet the newest baby before them--Tundra.

I said, "Puppies, meet the new heifer, Tundra."

And they said, "We've never seen anything like herbivore!"
 
And Sara said, "Moo-whoo-hoo-hoo!"

See?  She did!  (My camera doesn't have sound so you'll just have to take my word for it!)