Jul. 25, 2006 ~ The new kid
Suzy, one of our very favorite, bestest cows, had a bull calf last weekend. Husband came in and told me that the little guy looks just like his daddy, deep dark red, and we should call him "Little Henry."
"Noooooooo," I whined. "We don't name them if we aren't going to keep them. Didn't you make that rule?"
"Still. He looks like Henry."
"Yeah, well, look what happened to Henry!"
(Henry was taken to the "cattle resort," and has not been heard from since. We don't know why ne never calls or writes.)
"Little Henry."
"Noooo! Acck! Acck, acck, acck!"
"Go see him. You'll see what I'm talking about."
As the sun sank beneath the pines tonight, I walked to the front pasture and saw this unfamiliar lump, this dark red baby with cute ears and a wiggly tail. He lay curled up on the ground, his mama nowhere in sight. A glance to the pond showed she hadn't gone far, just for a drink, and in no time she moved quicly back to his side. A couple of motherly "moos" and he rose to his feet, stretching, stretching, first one hind leg and then the other, his tail curled and twisted up over his back. He turned, looking in my direction.
"You must be the new kid," I said.
"Yeah. I guess you do look like your daddy. Wish we could keep you, little guy. We can't, though."
He stared at me, thinking deep, serious, baby calf thoughts. For about 10 seconds. Then he walked to Suzy's side and nuzzled her, looking for dinner.
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