So Maude’s due date was Saturday, and we’ve been keeping a close eye on her all weekend, watching her udder grow to an alarming size and looking for any signs of labor. We’re completely snow covered right now, and the footing for a big pregnant cow isn’t so great, so she and Pearl are living in the barn aisle, which is spacious and easy to keep clean.
Saturday night ED and I checked on her a couple of times, which Maude seemed to think was the greatest thing ever, but no calf. I had the distinct feeling that she was waiting until we let our guard down so she could make a break and go off into the woods to calve in privacy, but we didn’t let her get by us!
Last night ED and I checked on her at bedtime, and her behavior was a little different: she gave the impression of listening to something that we couldn’t hear—she was a little off in space, though still very friendly and curious about why we were down at the barn again, and she was standing. All our other nighttime checks found her lying down and sound asleep—she doesn’t wake up until we touch her! And she snores! —but this time she wouldn’t lie down and her hips were a little…loose.
So since I didn’t get even close to enough sleep the night before, the girls volunteered to take the first check at 11:30, and I went right to bed, setting my alarm for 1:30. The hardest thing about a barn check this time of year is getting dressed. I find it a miserable process that takes forever—layers and scarves and layers and boots and hats and more layers—but once that’s done the walk down there is curiously pleasant. The snow is crunchy and squeaky, the sky clear, the stars incredibly bright and vivid, and the cows are so pleasantly surprised each time we show up. It’s frigidly cold there in the barn aisle, but it seems strangely cozy.
The girls did another check at 3:30, and then I got up at 5:30 and suited up. It was 4° and the sky was so intensely clear, the stars looked like stars, like you really are looking out into the universe, and it’s big. The snow was icy and sparkly in the beam of my headlamp, and creepy cats’ eyes lurked all around the edges of my little pool of light (they all like to accompany me back and forth). This time Maude was lying down, but not sleeping, and she got right up when I came in. Those hips are definitely a little wobbly, and she arched her back a few times in an interesting way, so I decided to stay up and check on her a little more often. On the way back from the barn, the rising crescent moon was breathtaking.
I’ve since been out once more and gave Pearl and Maude hay. No change in Maude, though Pearl is starting to make a pretty respectable udder—she’s due in a week.
