Scrolling through social media, it seemed like everyone had started calving before us and I was eager to start the initiation into a dairy farm calving season. Sure, I’d handled a suckler cow calving season plenty of times but everyone kept telling me that this calving season would be one of the most testing experiences of my life.

I took this warning to heart. I scrubbed, whitewashed and disinfected calf sheds until you could eat your dinner off the floor in them. I did some rigorous note-taking in our discussion group day on calf rearing and came back to plague my poor dairy farm partner, Seán, with questions. Did he realise that the quality of colostrum dropped by 22pc within six hours if it was left exposed? Did he know about the lifespan of coccidiosis in a shed?

It turns out he’s actually been doing this for quite a while and was aware of all of these and other things that I had never even considered.

However, just like the black Angus calf that won’t stop bawling even after it’s been fed, I wasn’t satisfied. I drew up charts and demanded ever more disinfectant while muttering like an insane woman about power-washing and super-strength iodine.

  To be honest, the run-up to calving season was probably more traumatic than the actual calving season. In my defence though, we were extremely prepared and if a calving season was to be compared to a battle, then I would be Wellington at the battle of Waterloo.

On that note of hubris, I’m aware that I’ve probably jinxed myself. To date, everything — even heifers — has calved without any fuss. Thanks to Seán, my calf stomach tubing skills have been finessed and after that we have a very simple system. All the calves get whole organic milk, which is a requirement of being organic and everything, except the replacement heifers, is sold as soon as is legally permitted.

In the division of dairy farm partnership labour, Seán has grassland management and I have calf paperwork. It was with some surprise then, when I went to An Post and was told that the price of a BVD stamp has gone up from €2.10 to €2.45 per stamp. As old as this will make me sound, I seem to recall a time when a BVD stamp cost less than €2.

Most farmers will be aware that you are only meant to include up to 10 BVD samples in an envelope and the price is higher than for an average stamp because it is an animal sample.

If we assume that 2.5 million calves will be born this year and 10 samples will be sent at a time, then that means that farmers will pay €612,500 for BVD stamps. Overall, the price increase means farmers will pay €87,500 more than they did last year.

In reality, this will actually be a lot more as every farmer knows that given the volume of calves and strict timing, you sometimes have to send fewer than 10 BVD samples at a time.

I completely respect the BVD programme and understand the necessity behind it but there is something galling about the constant rise in An Post BVD stamps.

It feels like our national postal service is taking advantage of the fact that farmers have no other way to get the samples that they are legally obliged to send to the lab for testing. There is no alternative or way to shop around.

Last year, An Post revealed they delivered €16.2m in profit for 2021. I have no problem with a strong postal service but I seriously dislike being a sitting duck for a price hike.

They could claim they’ve been hit by rising costs like everyone else, but that sounds a lot like crying wolf considering they’ve raised the price of a BVD stamp almost every year in recent history.

BVD samples have not got any heavier, so I would like an explanation as to why farmers are paying so much more.

I did mean to go directly to An Post for a comment but unfortunately I’m too busy preparing for the next battle — calving on the beef side of the farm.

Hannah Quinn-Mulligan is a journalist and an organic beef and dairy farmer; templeroedairy.ie