Sexuality According to Mama

The Smokey Mountains are at their finest in the Spring. Everything is new, alive, vibrant, and sensual.  Trees and wild flowers are blooming; ferns unfurl their new leaves, and in the animal world almost everything is mating or birthing.

Spring was calving season on our farm. We tried to arrange birthing of calves in the spring so the calves could have time to mature enough for the fall cattle market, therefore, most of our calves arrived in late February to early April.  Within 21 days after giving birth the cow begins another 'heat' cycle which, if successful, assured a new calf would be born the next year. If mating was not successful this first heat period you had to wait for next month's heat cycle.  


Many farmers in our area did not have a bull and they relied on the services of other bulls in the community. We always had a registered bull, one with  pedigree papers, to service our cows and the cows of the farmers without bulls. This service required that the farmer bring his cow to us for this service. The farmer tied a rope around the head of his cow and walked her to our farm. He knocked on our back door, asked for my father who then walked with the farmer to the pasture field where our bull 'serviced' the cow. 

This process was never described to me fully. Mama basically dodged my direct question about why the farmers brought their cows to our house for a few hours and then took them home with statements like, "The cow just wants to share some of our grass" or "The cow needs to be 'serviced' without explaining what it meant. I was told to come inside to play if the cows were nearby and when I asked why, Mama just ignored the question.  Most of the time I did what I was told, and if Mama was busy, I sneaked out the front door to see what I could see in the pasture. I don't think she ever caught me; if she did, I never knew it. Thirty minutes later I saw the farmer leading his cow back home. 


The birthing of calves was very common in the spring. Mama watched each cow carefully and seemed to know when the new calf would arrive. She watched to see when the cow left the herd and headed for the woods. Cows give birth away from the herd. Often Mama would say, "We need to go look for Big Red or Gernz, common names for our cows, because she may be having her calf."  We walked into the hidden spaces of our pasture fields where we often spotted a cow lying down.  Once she was spotted by Mama, I was told to stay behind while she went to check on the cow.  Doing as I was told I was always curious about what was happening up ahead that I was not allowed to see. Mama checked things out and walked back to where I was giving me a report on the cow with one of two sentences.  "She seems to be doing just fine so we can head back to the house", or "I think she is having trouble. We need to get hold of your Daddy, the vet, or a neighbor to come and help."  This last explanation had a sense of urgency about it and Mama looked worried.

I always wanted to know more, always had questions, and I wanted to see a calf born.  I thought that would be a very special event to witness. But, Mama never seemed to be interested in telling me anything or allowing me to see more, and I did not ask. However, I did know that these types of things were explained to boys and often boys came with their dads to view the process when the cow was serviced by our bull. I never understood this difference.  To this day sixty years later I have never seen a calf born.

Looking back on these events I wish Mama had been honest about all sorts of sexual matters.  It was the one topic she never could address. I understand that things were different in her time and she was only doing what she thought was best.  Many years later I asked her why she was never comfortable talking about sex and she said, "I knew you would find out on your own anyway!"  While this is a true statement, I believed then and now that she missed a great opportunity to share one of life's greatest pieces of information.  How I wish she could have been comfortable with the topic. The best part is I did not repeat this behavior with my own children.  Of course, things changed with my generation and they should have changed.