I swear our cow, Bessie, has the kind of stomach that could scare a vet student. One minute she’s fine, chewing her cud, minding her business—and the next she looks like she swallowed a yoga ball. Cow bloat is one of those things they don’t tell you about when you start homesteading. You think it’s going to be sunshine, baby calves, and fresh milk. Then bam—suddenly you’re Googling “how to burp a cow” at 6 a.m. with coffee in one hand and panic in the other.
It started after a stretch of rain when the grass was extra lush. Josh said, “She’ll be fine,” which is husband code for, “I hope she’s fine, but I don’t actually know.” Then Ethan pointed out, “Mom, Bessie’s sides look… puffy.” And he wasn’t wrong. She looked like she was ready to float away.
Cow bloat isn’t cute—it’s serious. Their stomach fills with gas that can’t escape, and it builds up fast. I could see she was uncomfortable—stomping, kicking at her belly, laying down and getting up again. My heart was racing. We’ve dealt with chicken drama, goat attitude, and garden disasters, but a bloated cow feels personal. She trusts us, you know?
So, we sprang into action. Baking soda water. Gentle walking. Prayers whispered under my breath. Josh kept saying, “We’ve got this,” though he was sweating more than the cow. Bessie finally let out a sound I can only describe as the world’s most dramatic burp. I laughed, cried, and then laughed again because the smell nearly knocked me out.
By the end of it, she was back to normal—chewing her cud like nothing happened, giving me side-eye for the ordeal. I gave her a big pat and said, “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” which she ignored completely.
Now, I keep a mental note every time the grass greens up. A little dry hay before grazing, plenty of watchful eyes, and maybe a backup stash of baking soda. Homesteading has a way of humbling you—turns out the real lessons aren’t just about growing things, but about keeping them alive when they get bloated and dramatic.
Some days it’s dirt and sunshine. Some days it’s cow burps and panic. But it’s all part of the same crazy, muddy, wonderful story out here.