I thought I had tried almost everything relating to the care of cows, but
when I undertook to wean a five-weeks’-old calf, I found my education
in that respect sadly neglected. I asked a farmer’s wife how I was to
manage. “Oh,” she said, “just dip your fingers in the milk, and let the
calf suck them a few times, and it will soon learn to put its nose in the
pail and drink.” It sounded simple enough, so I took my pail and started
for the barn, where that wretched animal slopped me all over with milk,
bunted me round and round the pen, until I was black and blue, sucked
the skin off my finger, and wouldn’t drink. After trying at intervals
for two days, the calf was getting thin, and so was I. In despair, I
left the pail of milk, giving that calf a few words of wholesome advice.
When I went back two hours after, the calf was standing over the empty
pail, with an expression on its face, that I translated into an inquiry,
as to why I hadn’t left that pail there before. I have weaned several
calves since then, but have never had any trouble. Leave them with the
cow three or four days, then take a little milk and hold the calf’s nose
in the pail; it must open its mouth or smother, and when once it tastes
the milk, will soon learn to drink.[1] When it is a week old, commence
feeding with oil-cake, skim-milk and molasses. Into an old two-pound
peach can, I put one tablespoonful of oil-cake and one of molasses, fill
up the can with boiling water, and set it on the stove until thoroughly
cooked. That quantity will be its allowance for one day, mixed with
skim-milk. The next week, give it that quantity at each meal, and the
next week, twice that. The calf will then be four weeks old, and the
butcher ought to give you a price for it that will pay for all trouble
and the family milk bill while the cow was dry. It does not pay to raise
calves where you only keep one cow. (Mr. Cochrane, the owner of the
celebrated cow “Duchess of Airdrie,” told me the other morning that last
year he sold a calf of her’s to an English gentleman for four thousand
guineas (twenty thousand dollars). I think it would pay to have a wet
nurse if one had a calf like that). A tablespoonful of lime-water put in
the milk now and then will prevent the calf from “scouring,” a complaint
very common among calves brought up by hand. I believe that winter rye
makes a valuable soiling plant, but I have never tried it.
[1] It is better, as a rule, not to allow the calf to suck at
all. Aptness in learning to drink is influenced by heredity.
Calves from ancestors that have not been allowed to suck, learn
to drink more readily than those which have been allowed to run
with the dam.