For some reason, mostly because the bull was gone, I had resigned myself to a season of no calves. Well, the bull was busy before he left. First came Mary Ann's calf, brown and adorable. Old Maggie still had her Christmas calf who hadn't lost his babyish ways.
The women in my family will always find something to worry about, and they'll do the worrying for others if need be. Yesterday, ye gods, there was a little dark brown blob in the pasture off my itself. Could it be?
Another new calf. Lying very still with no mother in sight. Oh dear! The calf flicked at ear. Alive, at least. Where was the mother. Iris was off in the woods away from the little herd. Why was she in such an odd place? Alone?
Had the mother rejected the calf? Was the calf deformed, dying, unable to nurse? Worry genes revving up. Finally, after dinner I could stand it no more. "We've got to go see about the calf."
Drove over. Calf not in lie-down spot. Iris nursing calf. A huge sigh of relief.
Still pondering about Iris' desertion. A rough birth and she just had to recover a while? Waiting for calf to stand? Had she washed it? Yes, from the looks of things. Iris was a new mother last summer and did a credible job with her blond baby.
Will there be yet a third calf from the black cow with crooked horns? For the five years in which we've lived here, this is the first time the calves have been born in the spring.
If I can get photos, I'll post them tomorrow. In the meantime, mooooo.