First of all, let me share with you Photographer Remley's latest:
He captioned it thusly: "Donna, Missouri Department of Conservation on line 1"
Two-month-old Gracie is growing well. Almost every day I put a halter on her and work on getting her to lead. She's a little uncooperative, but she'll eventually get the idea. I lead her up and down the driveway and tie her up and brush her. I really enjoy my babies. George doesn't get all this attention, since he won't be here long. He gets plenty to eat, but very little handling. This way, I don't form such an attachment to him.
I can tell that Gracie's whole face will be black when she's grown.
When I led her through the barn, I let her try out the stanchion. I threw in a handful of sweet feed, and that's all it took. I like to get dairy heifers used to being handled early on so that milking them won't be a problem when they're grown.
I still keep looking at Craigslist and get tempted by the baby heifers for sale:
For only $175, this beauty could be mine. Same folks I bought the last two from. No, it isn't going to happen. I already have too many; by next spring I will have to make a decision about who stays and who goes.
A trader was here the other day and asked how much I would take for George. I told him how much I gave for him and he couldn't believe I would pay that much for a bottle calf. I told him, "You must go to sale barns, right?"
Yes, he answered.
"I can't go to sale barns, so I pay what I have to."
"Well then, how much would you take for the heifer?"
"She isn't for sale."
Sheesh. As if he would be willing to pay a decent price anyway.
I don't care much for smart-aleck, know-it-all traders.
Two months ago the bred heifer, Jody, came up limping horribly. We had a hunch she had "done the splits" on muddy ground, and didn't expect her to improve. Some days she seemed to be walking better, others, not so well. Three weeks ago, I scheduled her to be butchered at the local butcher shop, because if she got so bad she couldn't walk, the butcher shop wouldn't take her. I figured it was time to cut our losses.
On the day before her expected demise, Cliff and I noticed she was getting around better, and he said, "If that were MY cow, I would wait and see if she makes it until she has her calf."
I cancelled the appointment.
So we've watched her limp along behind the rest of the cows. A couple of weeks ago I posted a video of her limping past my window.
I'm not usually a negative person, but the truth is, I didn't think I could stand to see my hopes dashed, so I assumed the worst. That way I am prepared to be hurt. I really love that heifer.
I've had her since she was three days old, raised her on the bottle, and halter-broke her at a young age. She is my pet.
For the past week, her limp has been nearly gone. You can see her right hind foot turns out a little more than it should, but she's walking almost normally. It's three months until her calf is due, and now I am beginning to hope that perhaps she will not only deliver her calf, but maybe even live to raise it. I've been taking her for walks, letting her eat the tender grass in the yard. Today I nabbed Cliff for a photo shoot.
Yes, she really is that docile.
She's cuddly, too.
At one point she got tired of posing and started rubbing her head against me.
Sure would be nice to see her have a Jersey heifer calf on Valentine's Day.
In case you are wondering why Cliff cut my feet off in all these pictures, he didn't. I cropped my feet out of them, and sometimes that meant cropping Jody's feet out also.
Why?
Just look at my high-water britches! Actually, the sweats aren't that short, but I didn't think about pulling them down over my socks. I never think about how I look!
Anyway, here's hoping. She has shown improvement before and then gotten worse. I will admit that I'm glad Cliff talked me into letting her live.
