Calving has always been my favorite time of year. Aside from all the other great features of spring—green grass, blooming flowers, budding trees, the promise of another growing season— calving often means something dies.

Now, ranchers are business owners. As much as I enjoy ranching, I don’t get a paycheck unless everything works right. Management requires making good decisions and taking into account all the uncontrollable factors like weather and markets. So, if something dies, it means we make less money for the year.

But I’ve always been curious. Long before I enrolled in veterinary school or even undergraduate animal science courses, I wanted to know what was inside critters. When I was in junior high, Dad came to breakfast one morning. Crestfallen, he said, “One of the feedlot steers died during the night.” I tried to look suitably glum. Then he said, “I suppose you’re going to cut it up to find out why. Just make sure you drag it out of the lot first.”

While I was in graduate school out of state, Dad called to report he had to put down his old cowhorse Guapo. I said some consoling words. Then Dad asked, “I suppose you want his legs.” I replied, “Well, yeah. If you don’t mind cutting them off and saving them for me.”

Last week, one of our purebred cows gave birth to a dead calf. It was full-term, of average weight, and looked normal.

But I had to cut it up and find out why it died. I’ve always loved a good mystery.