This spring we brought home 5 adorable bottle calves. They had names the very first day, which I kinda thought might go by the wayside. Except they didn’t. We bottle fed them for 6 weeks and got to know their faces and their personalities. Mo had an underbite. Moola had the longest eye lashes. Frank, my personal favorite, was pale blonde with a perfect dishy Jersey face. Lou was the beefiest. Tiny, later known as T, was a serious complainer and he liked to suck on the other one’s ears. He was also Julianna’s favorite.
After a few months Mo and Moola ended up going to live at my dad’s house. Julianna was okay with it because they weren’t her very favorites. The other three spent the rest of the summer grazing the pasture at our house. The girls brought them garden rejects from the house so often that they’d come to the gate when the garage door opened. And when we went for a walk, they’d follow us hopefully down the fence line.
Now that it’s fall, the pasture is beginning to look lean, and we’re thinking about winter. The plan all along had been to sell two of our three and keep one. We also need hay, so when we saw that a friend had hay for sale and wanted a calf, we arranged for a trade. Since T is Julianna’s favorite, and the big boys are hoping to make some cash from selling Lou, my favorite, Frank, went off to my friend’s house in exchange for a ton of hay.
I stayed inside while they were loading him into the trailer. Julianna and Em watched sadly. They were glad to still have two calves here for now. We were all glad he was going to a friend’s house, and John consoled the girls by saying we’d stop by to visit one of these days, and bring him a pumpkin to eat. But I think we’re all pushing away the thought of next year, when we’re going to have to face the fact that these guys weren’t bought to be pets.
Next time we really shouldn’t name them.