We got a second calf! Or my younger daughter did, anyway. This calf will be her project, so she was responsible for tracking down farmers and sending queries. She finally found a farm on the other side of the county with newborns for sale, and last week she and my husband and son went to pick it up.
They weren’t well prepared (no surprise there): the calf shat all over the back of the van — aka the newly named Shitmobile — and they had to pull over and wrap the wriggly critter in tarp.
She’s a cross — between which breeds, we’re not sure — and totally adorbs, with her turned-up nose and big brown eyes. My daughter named her Butterscotch.
We weren’t at all sure that Daisy would let the new calf nurse, so the first evening after my son finished milking, we put the calf in with her. With Daisy restrained, the calf nursed fine, and Daisy didn’t seem all that bothered.
And then the very next day, the kids saw the calf nursing on its own!
We’re still continuing to bring Butterscotch in after milking time to make sure she gets a chance to eat. But half the time she’s not even interested so we’re guessing she’s getting plenty throughout the day. Also, her pee is plentiful and clear so she’s obviously hydrated.
With a second calf, it means that we’ll soon be able to nix the evening milking altogether, and eventually we’ll be able to skip morning milkings, too, should we decide to go somewhere or take a break: we’ll just leave them together overnight and the calves will be able to keep up with the supply on their own. Also, a cow-fed calf means my daughter gets to raise an animal pretty much for free, which is nice.
This same time, years previous: flying, flashfloods, and fireballs, rocking the house, pinned, chocolate peanut butter sandwich cookies, the quotidian (5.18.15), help, a burger, a play, and some bagels, my favorite things, strawberry spinach salad.