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A tale of two babies
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Casanova earns his stripes as a lover, but when he comes running be ready to move out of the way Photo: Erin Pfeifer
Like many of you, perhaps, I never gave much thought to where milk comes from. I always sort of thought cows just gave milk. But of course they don't. Like all mammals, cows give milk as a result of giving birth. Therefore, to maintain a steady supply we have to produce a steady supply of baby cows. But what happens to all those babies?
If the newborn calf is a female, thus capable of growing up to become a continuously lactating dairy cow she's worth a considerable sum: five hundred dollars. But male calves, who produce no milk, are worth only ten. With such a stark disparity, the fate of male calves is very different from that of females, beginning the instant the calf is born.
It's a difference that frequently means death for days-old calves. With little for farmers to gain by feeding and caring for them, dead and dying male calves are a common sight at the more than two hundred dairy farms in this region of California.
One calf who eluded this fate is Casanova. He was found during an undercover humane investigation at a local dairy farm. The newborn calf had been separated from his mother and was helplessly stranded in a mire of mud and feces alongside another baby calf who had already died.
Investigators moved Casanova back to his mother’s side, but when they returned later that day they found he had again been taken from his mother, this time barred from returning to her by a fence. Investigators negotiated with the farmer and were able to remove Casanova and bring him to Animal Acres, a farmed animal sanctuary forty miles north of Los Angeles in Acton.
I met the young calf on a spring morning a few weeks after his rescue. He's a charming guy, although after sanctuary staff allowed me to bottle-feed him I was left with an enormous respect for the patience and resilience of mother cows. An Animal Acres staffer warned me that when Casanova felt the milk wasn't flowing fast enough he would let me know, and he was right. Wham! That big head slammed up into the bottle, just as it would into the side of his mother. If I hadn't been forewarned I'd likely have landed on my butt.
Feeling frisky after lunch, Casanova led me out to his small yard and proceeded to put on a display of calf athletics, running around, jumping up and down, and generally showing me what "frolicking" really means. At least the size of a Great Dane, and still displaying the erratic coordination of a youngster, as he barreled toward me I hoped he'd developed a good set of brakes at least. But it was lovely to see a creature so happy to be alive, and so delighted with the simple pleasures of a sunny spring day. It might have been hard for a casual visitor to imagine this little guy had ever had a bad moment.
Terrified Sonny cheated death, the ugly fate for so many unneeded male dairy calves Photo: Erin Pfeifer
But by coincidence, the morning I visited another male calf had been rescued. A dairy farmer, eager to maintain cordial relations with humane investigators, had agreed to let them take the calf back to Animal Acres, though somewhat bizarrely his courtesy had extended to hog-tying the days-old calf by the feet for transport. This calf, Sonny, had minutes before been brought in to share Casanova's small barn. Although he had just been spared the fate shared by most male dairy calves: to die in a muddy lot; to be brought, days old, to brutal cattle auctions; or be sold for veal, Sonny was still understandably terrified. He cowered on the floor in a corner, not yet able to appreciate that he'd just exchanged a muddy, feces-filled lot that might have been his graveyard for a small but cheery barn filled with straw -- and a fun-loving mentor and roommate in Casanova.
But Casanova seemed to understand. Periodically he would stop frolicking in the sun long enough to tumble into the small barn to check on his new friend, still huddled frightened in the corner. Although Sonny wasn't ready to join Casanova in play, it must have been reassuring to see at least one familiar-looking creature in his strange new surroundings. I had faith in Casanova, and no doubt that soon he'd have his new friend up and ready to make the most of the lightning bolt of good fortune that had spared him the bleak fate of so many male dairy calves.
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