Last Sunday I tried turning Clyde out into the pasture with Bonnie. It didn't work so well, because he wouldn't answer her unhappy bellowing when she misplaced him. Then there was the simple fact that she MISPLACED him.
For the past few mornings I've been separating the two after I milk Bonnie, turning her out to graze in the big pasture while Clyde stays at the barn. She would reluctantly leave, mooing over her shoulder in between bites of grass, finally settling down to eating quietly for an hour or two; Clyde would then curl up in a corner of his pen and rest until his mom came back with a full belly.
This morning I noticed that when Bonnie was out grazing, Clyde answered her repeatedly when she bawled. This was a sign, to me, that he was ready to take on the big world again. If she misplaces him and calls for him, he'll answer. If he wanders off on his own and misses Mama, he will call and she'll come running.
This weekend, Cliff intends to seed the ground you see lying fallow with seed that will become permanent pasture. I'll be so glad to see it green again, instead of brown. Because he needs someplace to put his 1855 to work, he'll probably tear up the sod on the point to play with for the next year.