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Herefords Half the Size
Rancher puts Ann to work as a Miniature Hereford cowhand during spring calving season.
Somewhere in my dreams, a quiet voice asks, “Ann, do you really want to go out to check the cattle with me? Ann?”
Half-opening one eye, I see 2:30 a.m. on the bedside clock and Ali Petersen’s silhouette in the guest room door at KP Ranch near Tekamah, NE.
“Uh-huh,” I mumble. Pulling on jeans, socks and a sweatshirt, I join Ali at the back door. We slip on jackets and muck boots. Then, out we go to make middle-of-the-night rounds of the Miniature Herefords she and husband Kenny raise.
2:35 a.m. » Walking through the brisk night air on the way to the barn, I quickly “come to.”
Ali jokes, “I think of this as my barnyard aerobics. During the peak of the calving season, I check the herd about every 4 hours, around the clock.”
In the barn, we shine our flashlights on “Hefty,” their newest calf, now peacefully asleep in a pen with his mother. “Last night at this time, I found his mother having difficulty with the delivery and had to assist,” Ali says. “I thought of going back to the house to wake Kenny, but figured by the time I did that, I could pull the calf myself. I was wishing you’d been here for that.
“A big advantage for me as a woman is that Miniature Herefords are about half as large as the standard size. These calves weigh 30-40 pounds at birth. We’re expecting 127 calves this year—just about half have been born so far.”
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Always a Nurse
2:50 a.m. » Sloshing through a pen out back—muddy from a spring snowstorm the previous weekend—we locate a few heifers due to calve soon. Ali scans them with her flashlight and predicts, “Not tonight.”
Then we hike out to a pasture behind the machine shed. Nothin’ doing with any-day-now “Wendy,” “Bella” or “Lauri.” Full-grown, the Mini Herefords are chest-high on me.
Ali grew up on a farm in Missouri, one of eight daughters. She’s a licensed practical nurse and has four grown children. “Both Kenny (an auctioneer) and I worked off the farm until our herd grew to demand us full-time,” she says.
“In 1994, we sold a small commercial beef herd and bought 10 Miniature Herefords. Now, we have over 350 head that we raise for showing and to sell as breeding stock.
“They’re a perfectly proportioned beef animal, they don’t take as much land to support, and they are easier to handle. Even young children can show them.”
3:15 a.m. » Back to bed! I have trouble falling back to sleep after all the fresh air.
8:30 a.m. » Fortified with a hearty breakfast, we work with one of the calves to be sure he gets his. Only 2 days old, “Geof” nurses on his mother’s one side, but not the other—which Ali intends to remedy. We station mother cow “Stella” in a stanchion. I help Ali hold the calf close to her. The little guy feels warm, soft and scared.
Ali gets the calf started sucking on a bottle of milk, then tries to make a switcheroo to the udder. Her first few attempts are fruitless, but Ali is patient and determined. Ta-da! Finally, Geof gets the idea.
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Bouncing Bottle Baby
In a pen outside the barn, “Force” bounds over like a puppy when he sees me coming with a bottle of milk! Glug, glug, glug. The calf eagerly empties the bottle as I hold it at his level. Meanwhile, his mother—who’s not producing enough milk right now—stands nearby, protectively. I’m sure she senses I’m a greenhorn.
9:00 a.m. » “Once a week, we tattoo and ear-tag the new calves,” Ali says. We have seven to do today. Kenny and their hired man, Danny Jackson, run the calves with their mothers into a pen and catch the calves for us to work.
On her knees, Ali straddles a calf while I hold its head steady and rub green ink inside its left ear. Danny then marks an ID number in the ear with a tattoo gun. The calf winces, but it’s over in seconds.
We smear antibiotic ointment on the plastic ear tag before Danny pierces the calf’s right ear to attach it. “Using the ointment is the nurse coming out in me—it’s not a common practice on most ranches,” Ali mentions. The tag includes the calf’s name, birth date, and names of its sire and dam.
Before releasing each calf, Ali kisses its white forehead.
My buddy, “Force,” is next up, and Ali has me hold his body. “Hold him tight between your legs so he won’t break away,” she coaches, as the squirmy calf tries to wriggle out.
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10:00 a.m. » They vaccinate their heifers (with calves) before turning them out to spring pasture. “Each heifer will get three different shots—one for pink eye, one for flies and another ‘seven-way’ for various bovine diseases,” Ali explains as we load coolers with medications and syringes at the house.
Ali and I drive in her truck to a corral several miles away, where they have 50 heifers; the men tow a large livestock trailer. We walk the perimeter of the
corral, with arms spread wide, to sort out 20 pairs into a smaller pen. Danny and Kenny sprint to catch the calves and carry them to the trailer at the gate.
After the calves are secured in the
trailer’s front compartment, we move the heifers toward the trailer. I spread my arms wide and “whoop” to head off a few that want to break from the bunch.
Thundering Mini Hooves
Once the first few decide to walk up the ramp into the trailer, the rest scramble in behind. Much mooing and hooves hitting the metal trailer floor cause quite a racket. (Twenty standard Herefords with calves would never fit in one load.)
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10:30 a.m. » We drive to corrals at the pasture location, unload the cattle and set up our clinic. My job is to prepare the syringes. Ali teaches me how to insert a needle into the vaccine bottle, draw out the proper doses of the different medications, then attach a new needle to each filled syringe. One of the medications is thick and difficult to draw.
Danny runs heifers into a chute; Ali closes the stanchion on the first one and expertly gives the injections. I have to fill syringes fast!
A little later, I play nurse’s aide and give some shots. “Slip the needle in right here under the skin,” Ali says, pointing at a spot just behind the heifer’s shoulder blade. The hide is tough—I have to give it a good poke.
Besides vaccinations, a topical parasite medication is applied to each cow. Whenever I’m caught up with syringes, I pull the trigger on a hose from a pouch of antiparasitic medication, laying a line of the gel along the cow’s back.
12:30 p.m. » When we run out of gel, it’s the perfect time for a lunch break in town. On the way back, we swing by the farm supply store for more parasite stuff.
1:30 p.m. » Kenny’s delivered another load of heifers, and we’re back at vaccinating.
3:00 p.m. » All done—50 heifers! Before turning them out to the pasture, we watch to see that they are all back with their calves—“mothered up,” as Ali puts it. Then we clean up our clinic and head back to the ranch.
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He’s Lookin’ Good!
3:30 p.m. » Suds fly as we lather up “Cash” in the wash rack. Just 6 months old, this solid little steer should have a bright future in the show ring, Ali hopes. Then we rinse him thoroughly (I’m glad she loaned me some rain pants) and dry him with powerful blow dryers.
“Blow the hair forward, working from his head back to his tail,” instructs Ali. His red-brown coat is thick and shiny. Cash was clipped a few weeks ago, but we give him a touch-up. I comb up the hair along his back line and trim it straight, as Ali instructs.
4:00 p.m. » I lead dapper Cash outside and hold him in place while Ali moves his legs into show position, for practice. The Petersens routinely groom their cattle so they look good when buyers come to the farm and to get the show animals used to it.
An impressive array of ribbons and banners on the walls of Ali and Kenny’s kitchen and den testify to their great
success.
“When we began exhibiting and promoting Miniature Herefords, just over a decade ago, many people were skeptical about the breed catching on in an
industry focused on bigger is better,” Ali recalls. “But we’ve found a niche, and now have an active national association and several national shows.”
5:00 p.m. » It feels good to sit! Ali and I take their 4-wheeler to check the summer pasture they lease. In a few weeks, they’ll move the herd to this scenic, rolling land overlooking the Summit Lake recreation area.
Ali spots a few fallen trees, fence problems and creek crossings that need attention. But mostly, we enjoy a relaxing end to an eventful day.
The cattle may be downsized, but Ali lives large. “I love our ranch life and the Mini Herefords—they keep me going 24/7!” she confirms.
Editor’s Note:Link to the Petersens’ Web site through countrywomanmagazine.com/links