Poor little "Oreo"

We had a lot of rain in the last week, some of it freezing. I was on call and had a busy time last Sunday evening when the power went out in one of our small communities. Luckily, I had help from Greg, a co-worker and we worked until after midnight. It was still cold and the roads slick on Monday. On Tuesday morning the ground which had been saturated was frozen and I decided to put out a roll of hay for the cows. When I tried to leave the roll where I wanted it I found that it was stuck to my hay fork. Every time I tried to drive away, the bale would drag along the ground. After several tries in various locations I gave up, and decided to leave my truck in the pasture with the hay roll lowered to the ground. I tried to take the net wrap off the roll but it was wet and frozen to the bale. I figured that the cows could eat the hay from the back of the bale and I would get the tractor and pull the truck loose from the bale when I got home from work.

I had to work a little late that evening and got home after dark. I carried the tractor battery which had been on the charger in the garage out to the barn and connected it to the tractor. When I hit the starter, fire flew and a cable that went to the starter burned up at the terminal. I didn’t want to start hunting parts in the dark so I decided to drive our other truck out to the hay truck and see if I could get loose from the hay bale. I knew that if the ground thawed out my truck would really be stuck.

I walked back to the house wondering if Murphy’s law was starting to operate. I got in the truck and drove out through the partially frozen pasture to the hay truck, leaving the lights on to check out the hay truck situation. I walked around the hay truck and almost ran into a calf right beside the truck. It was Oreo, a black-whiteface born in late August last year. He weighs about 450 pounds. I wondered why he was out here all alone and why he let me get so close. When he still didn’t offer to move away, I shined the flashlight on him and realized that he was stuck. His head was inside the back fender well of the truck between the tire and the fender and he was convinced that he couldn’t get it out. Yes, now I was sure, Murphy’s law was in full operation. Whatever could go wrong today probably would.

I poked Oreo trying to encourage him to twist his head and pull out. He danced around struggling, nearly bowling me over in the process but he was still stuck. I decided not to push him anymore, figuring the way my luck was running that he would cut his throat on the fender. I started the hay truck engine and lowered the hay fork as much as possible trying to lift the rear end of the truck in the process. It did rise, but only about an inch and Oreo remained stuck. I drove the other truck back to the house, realizing that I had left the hay truck engine running and wondered how much exhaust the calf could breathe before he passed out. By now, all dire contingencies were not only possible, but likely. I guess Becky could tell things weren’t good when I walked in the door. “How’s it going” she asked? “Well, you’re not going to believe this.” I said. I’ll bet she gets tired of hearing me say that.

Becky put on her coat and hat while I was telling her what had happened and was planning possible extraction strategies for Oreo. I needed either a jack or a long strong pry bar. I went out to the garage looking for ideas. I had three gallons of used peanut oil in a container that I was considering reusing and I picked it up along with a six foot piece of steel pipe. We drove back out to the truck hoping that the calf had managed to get free but no such luck. He was standing still, apparently having given up to his predicament. I placed the pipe on top of the rear tire and pushed up against the fender as hard as I could, the fender would only rise about another inch. Becky pushed the calf from the side while I lifted and Oreo struggled, but to no avail.

Now it was time for extreme measures. I took the peanut oil and poured it liberally over Oreo’s neck, trying to make it flow down over his head. When he looked like he was well lubed I put the pry bar back in place and heaved, telling Becky to poke and push him. Becky got a hand in and pushed his head sideways and the calf pulled back about halfway out. Becky kept pushing while I lifted and the calf popped out. He looked rough, but he wasn’t bleeding anywhere and he headed off to find his mama, just another day on Wolfhill.