Cows and calves

I went down to our pasture this morning for the first time in ages. I was surprised to see a red calf with the black ones and several black calves with some red mixed in their coats. Most surprising, though, was the calf with little horn nubs! Despite having the trait bred out of them, the occasional cow will still end up with horns.

The cows use to not let me get very close to them, but the older girls have been around long enough now that they’re pretty friendly. I got a kick (not literally!) out of petting Kelly, my namesake.

Here’s a picture of one of our newer cows and the little calf she had recently. They’ll both start fattening up soon. In honor of this calf I’ve included a poem by Wendell Berry from my Garrison Keillor anthology.

Her First Calf

Her fate seizes her and brings her

down. She is heavy with it. It

wrings her. The great weight

is heaved out of her. It eases.

She moves into what she has become,

sure in her fate now

as a fish free in the current.

She turns to the calf who has broken

out of the womb's water and its veil.

He breathes. She licks his wet hair.

He gathers his legs under him

and rises. He stands, and his legs

wobble. After the months

of his pursuit of her, now

they meet face to face.

From the beginnings of the world

his arrival and her welcome

have been prepared. They have always

known each other.

Wendell Berry