First Bloat

The book says that bloat happens, sooner or later.  Our first came last night.

My husband came in from milking and asked me to come look at the cows with him.  With Keeping A Family Cow under my arm, we headed out.  The book said to look at the triangle in front of their hip bone.  If it's depressed, they are hungry. If it's flush, they are full.  If it's extended they are bloated.  Christina and beefy looked full, but we couldn't even see jerky's hipbone.  It was all just round and full and tight.  Frankly, I wasn't sure (because there are no pictures in the book and how would I know!) but I figured the bloat medicine wouldn't hurt him.

I ran inside, found the medicine, and mixed it up with water.  The book says to give it in a drench bottle which has a long neck, or to give it by stomach tube.  No, I'm not figuring out how to do a stomach tube!  We don't have a drench bottle, we so used the calf bottle with the tip cut off.

The book says, "hold the nose by the nostrils."  What does that mean?  I read it aloud.  My husband reached over, stuck his fingers in jerky's nose and held tight.  Oh, that's what it means!  Jerky wiggled, but my husband was able to hold him still enough that I got the nipple in the side of his mouth.  As I worked I repeated the directions in my head, between the teeth and the check, all the way back, but don't let him aspirate it.  He gulped and gulped and twisted away. Ack!  Did he aspirate it?!  It took three times to get it all down.

It says, "a sound of belching will be music to your ears."  Jerky stuck his tongue out and did a slow-motion hacking.  Was he coughing?  But he kept at it and after a while we thought maybe it was burping. 

The books says to keep the cow walking.  We were doing this right at sundown as a very active thunderstorm moved overhead, so we walked him in circles in the shed.  After a while, it seemed that we could see his hipbone and it didn't feel as full.  But was that right or were we remembering wrong?  

Christina and beefy were close by watching the whole thing.  After ten or fifteen minutes of walking, not sure if things were better, we  decided to leave jerky alone and hope he was alive in the morning.

I slept badly.  I woke up over and over with dreams of finding jerky dead in the morning, or alive but with worse bloat.  Shortly after sun-up, about 6am, I went to check on him.  He was up and grazing.  Praise God!

I knew this "first bloat" would come, and it wasn't as bad as when Christina got milk fever, but it was still traumatic for me.  Part of me laughs at myself, so worried about a cow dying when we intend to slaughter this same animal in a year.  But I do feel responsible and I get scared. 

When I woke up in the night, all I could do to comfort myself was pray, and then feel like a failure for not taking more comfort in prayer.   This morning, with jerky healthy and looking as if nothing happened, the crisis is over.  Even though I didn't trust the feeling at the time, God was there with me.  In fact, I wonder if God was also reaching out in compassion to my feelings of failure.  Perhaps God was telling me, "stop worrying that you're not trusting enough, and instead just me let me show you how trustworthy I am."  Today I feel renewed commitment to watching and noticing.