Remember the debacle that was last years' calfing? I pulled one out, the vet cut one out piece by piece...it was not good. We were afraid that one of our heifers was infertile because of the god-awful procedure, and that our bull just threw gigantic babies.
Saturday Jasen and I can home to see a boy (for some reason I've named him Norman. If you don't get the reference, watch more great movies). Anyway, I didn't name the heifer because I was sure we'd have to put her down. She is now known as... Bertha. Because that cow waited two years for her calf. And she won't leave the little tike's side. Or let anyone else near him. Including the other calves, who have now had their share of head butts strong enough to fling their feisty little butts 10 feet away from Norman.
There's just something so comforting about calves. They play, they curl up in the field, and they look like giant deer. The best part is when they're nursing ... foam dripping from their mouths, their mothers chewing their cud and falling asleep, and the calf's tail wagging like a pinwheel in delight.
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