A few days old and separated by 150 yards from his mother among a line of cows feasting on alfalfa, this bull calf returns home, to one of several shady pockets or nurseries where the calves are laid down after nursing. In good shape, we try to limit feeding this bunch of third-calf cows to once a week to reduce the pandemonium when the hay arrives—a new experience for this calf fresh into this pasture. Every cow’s head down, he’d walked the line back and forth, his calls unanswered, hot and frothy when he and another older calf wandered towards me, the older gently guiding, head to neck, the way to the nursery. The older calf immediately claimed the shade he must have risen from when the hay arrived, the younger calf still assessing his place in the world through the twigs of a fallen sycamore.
As always, reading you is an inspiration . . .
You’ve been a kind supporter, Peter. Thank you!