DELEAU – The busy calving season has arrived at the Decock family farm, bringing the need for overtime to safeguard the fruits of the family’s labour.

A total of 230 calves are expected at the farm west of Souris before summer arrives. The “onslaught” of calving season is underway — a four week period until late April where Michael Decock, the lead farmer, expects roughly six to 10 calves per day.

It means that he is due to provide constant supervision, health checks, vaccinations, and the odd emergency-room looking procedure to steward the business.

On a busy Monday afternoon in mid March, Michael, 58, appears wearing rubber gloves over plastic, shoulder-length tubes taped around his arms, and a rubber smock over his chest. He positions himself behind a mother cow, and uses half of his forearm to confirm there is a healthy, live calf in the womb, positioned correctly and expected to enter the world any day now.

Following the procedure, Michael emphasizes that everything looks good with the cow, his wet, gloved hand gesturing as he speaks. He dumps water on his chest to rinse the smock, and then carries on discussing that it’s a relief following earlier concerns about the cow’s pregnancy.

Two generations of Decocks live on the property on Decock Road, which was aptly named Decock Road due to the long standing presence of the Decock family, which has been farming the area for more than 100 years.

The income of the farm is vulnerable at this time of the year because in a big way, the whole business comes down to calving. The family stewards cattle and breeds them, raises the calves to seven months and puts them up for sale. Birthing is a sensitive time for this cycle, and things could go wrong, so that requires constant engagement on Michael’s part.

“Last night, I was bouncing around here. I pulled out (a calf that was having trouble being born), that’s one o’clock in the morning,” Michael says. “And at three o’clock in the morning, I had to get a calf sucking, cause she was weak.”

The calf he pulled out of the womb was lodged backwards, and it was a twin. The other calf needed help to latch on to its mother’s udder and receive crucial nutrients for survival. It’s two of a number of scenarios that the farmer has to discover, address and solve to keep the business on track at this time of the year.

The family farm starts its calving around March because it’s more relaxed, Michael says. There’s wiggle room around required activities because the warm weather is more comfortable. If the same calves were born in frigid January, it would be an emergency to get them inside, he says.

Michael leads the farm with support from his father. The two of them also enlist the help of their wives, Sheri and Astrid, who monitor cameras on site, acting as sentinels to tip off the husbands should anything look awry. They joke that the Easter dinner this year will take place while cellphones are tuned in to a live stream of the cattle cameras.

“Everything revolves around the cows at this time of the year,” says Sheri Decock, Michael’s wife. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re not going to Winnipeg, or on vacation to Vegas. Somebody’s got to be around all the time.”

Because prices are high at the moment, there’s even more pressure to ensure that calving goes smoothly, Gary says. Cattle are worth more, and to lose one is more of a financial mistake today because of it. The good market for ranchers, however, does not mean a vacation is coming, or that a convertible will soon be parked in the driveway. It means the farmers will catch up on some much needed upgrades.

“It gives us that ability to make that leap of faith, cross off some debts and take on more debt,” Michael says with a laugh. “We’re going to make some upgrades to infrastructure, and we’ve made a capital purchase on a loader.”

The farmer plans to install a new shop in the near future, and some fences need to be replaced, he says. This is possible because the market is paying well for farmers like himself.

But the family is not trying to grow their business to capitalize on the market, he says. The 58-year-old and his father are already starting to feel outsized by their herd, and the amount of work that it takes, especially as the years go by.

“We’re getting old. We’re maxed out on facilities and labour,” Michael says, standing outside his main cow pen. “We have no desire to increase the cow herd at this time.”

Gary, 84, partially retired, with young eyes, a sharp wit and a long-winded story about farming as a boy instead of playing sports, says he’s waited a lifetime to sell cattle at the current prices. Gary then proceeds to use a golf iron as a walking stick, entering a cow pen like a wrestler, ducking under one bar in the fence and straddling another. He has no plans to stop farming cattle, he says — and Sheri jokes that he’s going to die doing what he loves.

“You live poor and die rich, if you’re lucky,” Gary says, straight-faced.

Out in the field beyond, a mother cow lays down, and from her a calf is born. The baby tries to stand up, and tumbles over, being licked and nudged by the mother all the while.

It’s 3 C. The sun breaks from a cluster of clouds and bathes the farmyard in warm light.

» cmcdowell@brandonsun.com