Searching for Brownie

Photo curtesy of Maureen Maliha

A few weeks ago when the weather was perfect (during that time right before the heat wave that crisped our front
yard) my husband Charles and I went to move our herd of beef cattle to their
next paddock of fresh grass, both of us looking forward to seeing Brownie
again. It was about 6:00 PM, a little later than we had planned to go, so we
didn’t know if the cows would be waiting contentedly or if we’d get the awful
mooing greeting, which starts with one animal who, noticing us pulling in the
drive, begins a loud, continuous bellow that is quickly taken up, amplified,
and harmonized on by other members of the herd, giving the clear message
that they’ve finished grazing the paddock and are more than ready for us to
move them to the next one. We were relieved on that evening to find them
quietly lying about, some chewing their cud, others licking each other, and the
new mothers nursing their calves. Other new arrivals were sleeping scattered
all around the field, each one curled up with its head tucked under like a cat
in a box in the corner of the living room floor, or a fawn in a tall patch of
grass in the forest, some so well hidden that they were invisible until almost
stepped on.

The day before we had counted nine calves, including Brownie, but didn’t know if any had been born during the
night so we looked for any cow that had separated herself from the herd in
order to birth and bond with her new offspring. As there were none, Charles
reeled in the line separating the herd from the next paddock. We watched as
they walked into the greener pasture now accessible before them, heads
down, tongues and bottom teeth (cows don't have top teeth in front)
ripping a selection of the various grasses - an army of cows on the march.
Grazing animals have co-evolved with grasslands over time, stimulating the
roots of the plants as they rip off the leaves, manuring the soil and
cultivating it with their hooves. As with wild herds, our cows don’t return to
the same spot until their manure has broken down, giving the grass time to
regenerate.

As the herd moved through their fresh meal, we counted calves and looked for Brownie who is our first ¾ Devon to have been born with no white on his face. We started our herd 4 years ago with 14 bred Herefords, otherwise known as “White Faces”. In succeeding years we bred them to a Devon bull with a similar reddish
brown color but no white on his face or anywhere else on his body. Each year's calves
have kept their mom’s distinctive white faces though with various decorative
brown eye rings and patches. We were very excited this year to see the first
calf who looked just like his dad, a stocky, gentle bull bred for his ability
to thrive on a 100% grass diet – like his wild ancestors. The only “problem”
with Brownie is that he’s all brown. Without that neon white face screaming out
from behind a bush, a clump of grass or from the bottom of a ditch, we can
never find him when he’s sleeping, as seemed to be the case on this
particular evening.

All the other calves had moved into the fresh pasture but he had not. We wondered if he was off sleeping somewhere
or if he was sick or, horrible thought, if he had been eaten by a coyote.
Charles and I separated criss-crossing back and forth through the acre or so of
the last paddock looking for him under a tree, cradled in a ditch, or
camouflaged in an uneaten patch of sedge that remained a left over at the salad
bar. We couldn’t find him. Time passed, the skies turned pink and darker blue
and we decided it was silly to have these worries as his mother, along with the
other mothers, would have come running to protect him at the first sign of
danger. He was fine and with the fence line down between the paddocks she would
return and retrieve him when she’d finished her evening meal. We knew we should
leave to go back home, secure in the knowledge that the herd would take care of
itself and the individuals within it, including Brownie.

But, humans that we are, we stayed to “do something” and spent the next hour walking and looking, thinking and
imagining where he might be. Finally Charles spotted him peacefully asleep in a
mound of last year’s weather beaten hay, totally protected by his position and
coloring. We woke him – gently of course and then herded him back towards his
mother. Why did we do this? Who knows? Maybe to satisfy our own desire to
see them all together or to test out our low stress handling skills on an
animal who can go from no reaction to utter panic in an instant or maybe
because it had been such a beautiful day with clear blue skies and no humidity
that we just wanted to stay out there with the herd into the night. What ever
the reason, we were there to see him run back calling for his mom, and respond
to her gentle rumble of a call back to him. This dance between cow and calf,
solicitous licks, the enthusiastic search for the source of nourishment and the
blissful contentment of a nursing cow, all of this has repeated itself in an
endless cycle since before there were words for time and now for a few minutes
we too entered into this timelessness before once again being swept up into the
rush of our lives.

Francesca and Charles Noble of Movable Beast Farm raise 100% grass fed beef in the Rondout
Valley of Ulster County. Their cows graze at various locations throughout the valley. If you are interested in ordering they can be can reached at movablebeastfarm@gmail.com. Their website is currently under construction and will be up shortly.