A modern heritage foodstead
Nag, nag nag. That’s what I heard Suki saying to her good friend Zay the other day. I’m sure they were talking about me, but that’s OK.
I was only suggesting that the weather was balmy and dry which is a rare stroke of luck in February, don’t you think? If you’re going to have a baby anyway, wouldn’t it be a good idea to pick a warm, sunny day?
What-ever. With lots of eye-rolling. OK, Suki, do it your way.
So she did. Last night I was pretty sure we’d be meeting our new friend today. So, I gave Suki her own room. Before dawn when I checked this morning, everyone was inside except guess who? Suki. Somehow, Suki managed to escape and off she went by herself to take care of her very important business.
Fortunately, I have been placing big bales of hay in wind-sheltered places just in case. One mostly eaten bale in the most sheltered spot offered the perfect, fluffiest bed. Since Suki may well be my smartest cow, I was pretty confident that’s where she’d be.
It was still dark but quiet and still. I grabbed my lantern and set off over the hill. And sure enough, that’s where she was with her new little calf. Dried, fed and taking a nap. Very, very far from the barn.
While Suki enjoyed a special breakfast, I carried our new friend up to the barn. A long snow-covered uphill hike carrying about 40 pounds of awkward, squirming calf. And, let me just say – this morning I have no doubt I’m not twenty-six anymore.
We were just in time because as soon as Suki & Co. were safely tucked inside and buried in hay, the wind whipped up and things took a turn for the nasty. So our little friend is getting a challenging start to his/her new life, but so far, so good.
Like babies? Check out some other hellos:
In which we say hello
in which we say hello again and again and again
in which whine enough already
in which Sprite gets game
in which we begin a new round of hellos
in which we say hello Sammy
in which we say a surprised hello