Timmy in the well

Timmy Is in the Well!

September 3, 2018 — Life on the Farm

You would not believe the afternoon we had today.

Nine months ago, the bull paid a visit, and now six of our mama cows are pregnant and getting ready to deliver. Calving season has officially arrived at RizzieFarms.

Now, anyone who raises cattle knows one of the basic rules: you do not name the calves if you are raising them for sale. They are livestock, not pets.

Apparently, we are not very good at following that rule.

Moo-chelle was the first. On August 29—my birthday—she gave birth to a little bull calf.

Since he arrived on my birthday, we gave him the Spanish version of my name and called him Cristóbal.

Then came September 1.

That was the day of a wedding held outside at our barn, on one of the hottest days of the summer. Everyone was dressed for a wedding, everyone was trying to look presentable—and everyone was sweating.

By the end of the day, “wedding” and “sweating” had somehow merged into a new word:

The Sweadding.

And right in the middle of the Sweadding, another mama cow decided it was the perfect time to have her baby.

Another little bull.

Naturally, we named him Sweaddy.

So much for the no-naming rule.

Unlike Moo-chelle, who keeps Cristóbal fairly close and visible, Sweaddy’s mama prefers to hide her new baby somewhere out in the pasture. Apparently, she believes in privacy.

Then came today.

We heard one of the cows bellowing from the field. It wasn’t her normal call, so we drove out to investigate.

We quickly realized that one of our first-time mamas had just given birth, but something was wrong. She was clearly distressed, and there was no calf anywhere near her.

We began driving around the pasture looking for clues.

Eventually, we found the afterbirth.

It was lying beside an old hole in the ground that had once been a well.

The well had mostly been filled in years ago, and a concrete slab covered much of the opening. Still, there was enough of a gap left to make us wonder.

Richard got out to take a closer look.

Sure enough, there he was.

A newborn calf, only hours—or perhaps minutes—old, had fallen into the old well and was lying about two feet below ground level in the darkness.

Timmy was in the well.

Of course, the new mama knew exactly where her baby was. So did several of the other cows, and they had gathered around to protect him. Unfortunately, protecting him also meant they weren’t particularly interested in letting us get close enough to rescue him.

We needed a plan.

We called Debbie, and she came up to help. Together, we surrounded the old well with interlocking cattle panels so we could work without an anxious mama cow joining us inside the rescue area.

Richard distracted the rest of the herd with sweet feed while we prepared to get the calf out.

Then came the tricky part.

Richard stretched headfirst down into the opening while I held tightly onto his ankles. Reaching into the darkness, he managed to work a woven cloth tow strap around the newborn calf.

Once he had it secure, the three of us pulled.

Up came the calf.

Out of the darkness, over the edge of the old well, and back into the daylight.

Within minutes, his mama was beside him, licking and cleaning him as if nothing unusual had happened.

We stood nearby and watched.

Before long, the little calf struggled onto all four legs. He wobbled around for a few moments, found his mama, and then—most importantly—found her teats and began nursing.

That was when we knew everything was going to be all right.

And at that point, the no-naming rule never really stood a chance.

There could only be one name for a calf rescued from a well.

We named him Timmy, after the old Lassie television show.

Because every farm eventually needs a story that begins:

“Timmy is in the well!”

They may have been livestock and not pets.

But some calves simply name themselves.