Our New-born Scottish Highland Calf

We are just learning about cattle and had our first Scottish Highland calf this week. It was a rather interesting and at times trying situation.

We thought that the Scottish Highland would be a good breed for our farm because we are in the Allegheny (Appalachian) Mountains of Pennsylvania and our elevation is similar to parts of the mountains/highlands in Scotland. I am a serial reader of James Herriot's books, which also got me interested in the breed, though he never mentions the breed in particular in any of the books I've read, his work in the Pennines always reminded me of where we live.

We aren't certain that we want to keep the breed, we are kind of experimenting with it. My son who does most of the work with them, thinks that we would be better off with Angus because they are easier to work with due to their lack of horns. When Annabelle, our registered heifer, hurt her foot or leg last winter the vet and her assistant were not too thrilled to be in the pen with her horns, and I think they gave up a bit early with their examination as she became displeased with them. Their hasty diagnosis was hoof rot, and we were told to get a farrier. I had him come out and he wouldn't go in the pen with her, and she would not fit into his fancy machine that tips the cow sideways so he can safely work on the hooves. I then had to pull his truck-mounted machine out of my field when he got stuck, and we just had to hope for the best for Annabelle. She got better on her own.

At times I agree with my son, but I just can't seem to bring myself to give up on the Highlands. Well anyway here is the story of the arrival of our first calf, yet unnamed.

She had him with no problems out in the field this week. My family just looked out the window and spotted some extra legs under Annabelle. The calf looks black but has a tint of red and Annabelle is red so he shows up pretty good, especially with a bit of snow out there like today. She was nursing him and all was well until the bull started to act up.

Our bull, also a Highland, is dun colored, which means he can throw calves of any of the "standard" Highland colors. We just call him the Dun or Dunny. Anyway, he started attacking the calf, repeatedly knocking him down. I thought he was going to kill the calf. We lured him away from the calf with sweet feed, but he charged back up and went after it again. We hoped for the best but figured there was nothing we could do. We thought Annabelle would give him a fight and save the calf and went down to eat dinner.

The Dun

After dinner it was dark and cold. We went out in the Chevy Suburban and spotlighted the field looking for the calf, expecting to see it lying dead in the field, because Annabelle and the bull were running around. It wasn't in the field, so we started to search for it in the woods. Our fence is just two strands of electrified soft wire primarily on T-posts, the bottom wire is about 30 inches from the ground so the calf could have easily escaped.

We saw a small black lump about 10 yards into a small woods near the fence. I got to it first and it tried to jump up, so I grabbed it. My son Michael took it from me and carried it to the Suburban near the fence. Annabelle, the Dun, and the calf were all bawling. We thought they might come through the fence because we were right beside them. I called off my 3 other kids who were coming out from searching another woods to see what all the commotion was and told them to go back the other way because the Dun was bellowing. I opened up the back of the Suburban and Michael went in with the kicking and bawling calf.

We put the calf in a pen with a bed of hay, we don't make straw, and the kids took turns holding him and keeping him warm. I drove down to Tractor Supply at about 8 PM and bought bottles and colostrum and milk replacer. The kids tried to feed him but he wouldn't drink. We couldn't get Annabelle into the pen she was too worked up running around with the bull. We gave up on feeding the calf and went to bed about midnight.

The calf's first night after his rescue from the Dun and the woods

Early the next morning, Michael and I managed to get the bull into a pen and lock him up. We had already penned up the other cattle. Michael then carried the calf out to Annabelle and she took him and licked him and he had his breakfast. He was pretty weak, and faced a day of cold rain and near freezing temperatures ahead of him, unless she took him into her newly-built pen in the barn. She didn't. Michael did most of the work because I swung out of a tree while goofing around on Thanksgiving and tore my pectoral muscle, and when I grabbed the calf it did me no good.

Annabelle brought the calf through Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. It was about 15 degrees Fahrenheit Thursday night when I went out at about 2 AM to check on them, and the calf was fine, and the Dun and others were still in the pens. Annabelle and the calf were out in the fields and the coyotes were in the woods. I was a bit concerned about her out there alone with the calf.

Annabelle and the Calf on Wednesday, a nice day to be a calf.

I emailed the fellow I bought Annabelle from. He has a herd of Highlands and sells them for grass-fed beef at high prices, about $8 a pound for ground meat, and much more for other cuts. He seems to be doing well at it. He markets to people in Pittsburgh. He told me he had never had a bull attack a calf like that and told me to butcher him or sell him. I called up my buddy from church who has about 25 Angus and a trailer, and we were going to get the Dun loaded next Wednesday and take him to the butcher.

I was pretty upset about losing the Dun, though I thought he would be tasty, I really liked him and we had raised him from a calf, but I always wondered if he might get mean. He would never let us brush him. And it took the longest time for him to let us scratch under his chin. The only thing he would let us do. In the summer he also would let us brush flies from his face with our hands, but that was it. He also destroyed Rubbermaid water troughs. We had to switch over to old, very heavy cast iron tubs for troughs, the only thing he couldn't break.

On Friday morning the Dun broke the top board of his pen, which was about 5 feet high, and jumped out and ran out into the field with Annabelle and the calf. We could not believe it, and thought he was going to go after the calf, but he didn't. He started to sniff and lick the calf, and the three of them are fine now. We just fed them out in the field and the calf was practically walking underneath the Dun, with no adverse reactions. It looks like the Dun just went nuts over becoming a daddy, but now has come to his bovine senses and is going to be a good father. I have no worries about the coyotes getting the calf with the Dun on duty. Hopefully this happy ending continues.

The Dun and the Calf this morning.

The happy family.