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COUNTRY LIFE IN BC • FEBRUARY 2017 Calf-rearing 101: the Henderson way by BOB COLLINS


When we left off last month, Henderson had paid a surprise visit to his mother only to discover she was preparing to auction off most of her household. He begrudgedly accepted his mother’s offer to send him and Deborah on a holiday and returned home to find the Mrs. almost as unenthusiastic. Retreating to his home office, he found a stack of feed invoices. The Woodshed Chronicles continues.


Christopher walked into his father’s office. Kenneth motioned him to sit down. “Where’s your sister?” “She’s at Fitzpatrick’s


looking after her horse. I think Mom is going to pick her up on the way to practice.” “What practice?”


“Singing practice for the musical. Ashley’s in it, too. And I’m helping make the sets. It’s pretty cool.”


The Woodshed Chronicles BOB COLLINS


Kenneth returned to his office and spent most of the afternoon fuming over the feed store invoices. He heard the back door open at 3:30. “Is that you Ashley?” he


called.


“It’s me, Dad. How come you’re home?”


“Why wouldn’t I be home, Christopher? You sound just like your mother. I want to talk to you about something.”


“I’m sure it is,” said Kenneth sarcastically. “I want to know what the meaning of all these bills is. The milk replacer is nearly a hundred dollars a bag. And what do we need shavings for? And what is third cut hay? And


what, pray tell me, is a mob feeder?”


“It’s all stuff for the calves. I asked Mr. Pullman how to do it. He said to get the expensive milk replacer because the cheap stuff is made with vegetable protein and the calves can’t metabolize vegetable protein until they are older. And the third cut hay is finer than first or second cut and they’ll start eating it


sooner. The shavings are for bedding. The manure has to be cleaned out every day and you need the shavings to keep them clean and dry.” Kenneth stared at his son across the desk. Christopher’s explanation had soaked his powder and defused his indignation. He fired his final volley.


“Why did we need a $150 mob feeder?”


“It’s impossible for one person to feed four calves at once with bottles,” explained Christopher. “It’s a big bucket with five nipples that you hang on the pen then pour a whole bucket of milk replacer in and they all suck it at once. It’s way faster. You should come to the barn and I’ll show you.”


Half an hour later Kenneth Henderson watched his son mix two pails of milk replacer, then followed him to the barn. He watched while Christopher poured the milk into the mob bucket, then push a


wheelbarrow into the pen and start filling it with calf manure. “You have to be really quick,” said Christopher. “You only have a minute or so


before they finish their milk and you don’t want to be in here when the bucket runs dry.”


Christopher pushed the wheelbarrow out of the stall and grabbed the half bale of shavings waiting by the door. He dumped them in the middle of the stall and scooted out of the stall as the first calf abandoned the bucket nipple and lunged toward him. “Why do you always put in so much shavings?”


“Mr. Pullman says you need to keep them clean and dry,” Christopher shoved a flake of hay into the manger. “How much hay do they eat?” asked Kenneth.


“Not very much right now but Mr. Pullman says that you need to keep some there all the time so they can start to nibble on it so their stomachs will start to work and they can learn to chew their cuds. He says they are doing really good,” said Christopher, looking proudly into the pen. “I just need to rinse out the nipple bucket and they’re done.”


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Kenneth regarded his son silently and realized that everything Christopher had said was over his head. His bureaucratic experience kicked into gear: never let on that you don’t understand, pick a detail and criticize it. “It seems to me that there must be a cheaper way of bedding them than buying shavings by the bundle. How much do they cost?” Christopher shrugged his shoulders.


“The first thing you need to learn about business is cost control,” said Kenneth. “I’ll look into it.”


After supper, Deborah and Ashley were off to Jade Song’s to rehearse for the spring musical. They dropped Christopher off at the


community hall to work on the sets with Lisa and her Mom. Kenneth spent two hours scouring the internet for information about veal calves. He found that scours was, in fact, a nasty illness that that was to be avoided at all cost. He also found that not everyone was in favour of raising veal calves and that there was little consensus, save keeping them clean and dry and well-fed, regarding exactly how to do it. Most importantly, he found several potential options to $10 bags of shavings for bedding the calves.


He decided to explore them at the feed store in town the next morning.


“How much does a bag of granite fines cost?”


“You got me,” said Wade from the feed store. “Never heard of them.”


Kenneth looked ever so slightly down his nose at Wade.


“They are a common source of bedding for cattle. Granite fines can be used to prevent the area around the entrance to the calf pen from getting muddy.”


“You don’t say,” said Wade. “That’s good to know. Most folks use shavings. How muddy is your pen now?” “It’s not muddy at all. I have shavings in the pen.”


“Good choice,” said Wade. “We sell ‘em by the bag.” “I’m not interested in more shavings. I wanted granite fines.”


“Afraid I can’t help you there,” said Wade. “I suppose you could get yourself some sand. That’d probably be pretty close.”


“How much is your sand?” “We don’t sell sand.” “No kind of sand at all?” demanded Kenneth.


“Well, there’s chicken grit. It’s made with flint though, not granite, and it’d be a frightful expensive way to cut the mud in your calf pen. It’d be cheaper all around to use shavings.”


“What about straw? You must sell straw.”


“That we do,” said Wade. “We sell it by the bale but it doesn’t come cheap either and it can pack something fierce if you’re not cleaning it all out pretty regular. Most folks with calves use shavings. We sell them by the bag,” said Wade.


Kenneth let out an exasperated sigh.


“What did you say your name was?”


Wade ran his finger under the name stitched into the front of his coveralls.


“Well, WADE!” said Kenneth. “I realize that you sell shavings by the bag and they are ridiculously expensive. I don’t want to buy shavings by the bag. I’m trying to find something cheaper.”


“Ah. Cheaper. You need to get sawdust if you’re wanting something cheaper.” “Now we’re getting somewhere,” said Kenneth. “How much is a bag of your sawdust?”


“We don’t sell sawdust,” said Wade. “You’d have to get that from the sawmill.”


“And where would that be?” “I’ll give you their number.” said Wade. “There’s no need to go there; just give them a call and they’ll deliver.”


To be continued


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