It was a dreary April day this past spring in western Wisconsin. I spent the afternoon driving back from a cattlemen’s association event, heading right to another community commitment I had that evening. That’s where I got the dreaded text, “Looks like 048 is calving. We need help getting her in the barn.” No. 048, charmingly referred to as Junie, was one of those difficult mama cows. Her only saving grace was the quality of calf she raised each year and, on those rare years when she calved on a “nice” day – weather-wise, that is – she is the best mama out there.
This, as I mentioned above, was not one of those years. And it already had been a long calving season on the George farm, and we were only a couple of weeks in. When I made it home, Junie was back to eating silage – a false alarm, we thought. During one last check before we headed to bed, we found she had calved right in the cold, snowy mud. It was a big calf, and he was shivering and struggling a bit to get up in the slippery mud. So out we trudge in our snowpants and mud boots, piling on the UTV, heading out to the pasture.
Typically – and let me remind you, she’s not a typical cow – we are able to put the calf in a sled and slowly drag it back to the barn with the cow following behind. Junie, of course, had zero interest in participating.
I cannot accurately describe the next few hours of us trying to get the cow and calf into the barn in the little space I’m given on this page. Words were shared, threats were made, and vows of selling all the cows the next day were sent up to the heavens. I ended up in a sinkhole of mud up to – and I’m not exaggerating – to my waist. It was the first time since moving home last fall that I thought I may have made a mistake in doing so.
When I finally made it to bed and got some shuteye – or what I’m going to call the few hours of tossing and turning – I was really rethinking if it was all worth it. Is raising cattle something I wanted to do the rest of my life? Is all the stress, pain and heartbreak worth continuing my family’s legacy? Was I strong enough for this, mentally, emotionally and physically?
But a few short and unrestful hours later, my alarm rang, and I headed to the barn where I found the calf up drinking and mama standing there chewing her cud like nothing ever happened. The calving season came to an end, the mud dried up, and the calf is set to be my sister’s show steer for next year’s county fair because, of course, it’s the best steer out there.
I’ve always been a believer that everything happens for a reason, that there’s something larger at play guiding our lives. Our passions, dreams and decisions all come from one place. If something is put on our hearts, there is a reason for it. It’s how and where we find meaning in our lives. Like many of you, for me it is raising cattle and being a part of the industry that feeds our world.
Life gets hard, there are bumps in the road, but that is where we find the strength to continue. And in the end, it’s all worth it when you teach your son to drive a tractor, watch your grandchild win at the county fair with her homegrown steer or you hand over the reins to the next generation of your ranch. So stay strong. Remember the good and forget the bad. There’s a reason you’re called to do what you do.
