Babies, Bucket Calves and Bred Heifers

Several weeks ago we had our heifers preg checked to make sure they all had calves in their bellies.  Our oldest son, Kenyon, had turned his show heifer out in this pasture after the fair and we had high hopes that she would be bred as well.  

But before I tell you that story, I need to tell you this story. 

I hated that heifer.  

I realize that I'm not supposed to say hate, but I need to make it clear just how much I despised her.  And most of it wasn't really her fault.  It was more that she was a constant reminder of a whirlwind time in our lives and just one more thing that we didn't really need on our plates at that moment.  

It was the beginning of the pandemic and no one really understood just what was going on or the best course of action.  On top of that, I was pregnant with our fourth child.  On top of that, we had to begin our remote learning journey with our kindergartener.  On top of that, we had begun a bit of home renovation as we were having another bedroom added on for this new child and it's impending birth.  On top of that, springtime is generally a special type of hell around here; what with burning pastures, kicking calves out on grass, cooking for a crew, and on and on and on.... I could elaborate further but I feel I've adequately made my case.  We. Were. Busy.  We were busy, but somehow we were managing to just keep our heads ever so slightly above water.  

In late April I had the baby.  24 hours later we were back at home.  24 hours after that my husband gave me a bucket calf, a tiny black baldy bull.  24 hours after that (72 hours post-baby for those of you keeping track) I was given another bucket calf.  A red baldy heifer that was wilder than a march hare.  

I remember during that time mixing two large bottles for the bucket calves, loading the baby into the stroller, balancing the bottles on the stroller and walking down to the barn.  I remember nursing the baby in the barn and sometimes she would cry if the hungry calves bawled too loudly and frightened her.  So sometimes the calves got fed while the hungry baby bawled because honestly, she was much quieter than the other two.  While I fed bottles to the tiny human and tiny calves the rest of the children would do their best to help me with the other chores.  

I was always thankful for such a pretty view as I sat in the barn nursing the new baby.

Hats off to the parents that survived remote learning and
many thanks to the creative teachers that made this all possible! 

We'd walk back home and I'd do my best to whip up food for a crew of men.  I'm not the best cook on a good day, and these were far from good days.  My most sincere thanks to the hungry men that choked down my food and said thanks.  (I'm trying, guys, I promise!)  I'd load up the food in the back of my car, drive to the designated pasture and we'd have a pasture picnic.  I'd set out all the lawn chairs, lay ou the buffet in the back of the car and then nurse my tiny human baby while the men ate.  Wash, rinse, repeat.  Day after day for most of our spring this is how things went.  And in the back of my mind was always the fact that we had to feed those damn bucket calves twice a day.  

I'm fine,
we're fine,
everything's fine.

But like most things in life, our situation was temporary and things started to look up after a few months.  Although one calf sadly did not make it, the red baldy finally started to take a bottle from Kenyon and allowed me a bit more freedom.  The change of the seasons meant I didn't have to cook nearly as many meals to take to the pasture and the baby didn't require quite so much of my attention as she got older.  I thanked God countless times for such a happy baby.  I don't think we could have survived otherwise.  

The heifer seemed to explode growth-wise overnight and started to look like a decent show heifer prospect.  We knew she wouldn't win any major awards but at least we wouldn't be laughed out of the ring.  After some deliberation, we decided she could be Kenyon's show heifer when he joined 4-H the next year.  He took his responsibility incredibly seriously.  Although she never calmed much for my husband or myself, Kenyon could have lead her to the ends of the earth.  They were quite good buddies and their bond was evident, as it should be with 4-Hers and their animals.  He had tears in his eyes after the fair when the trailer doors opened and he took off her halter one last time and kicked her out to pasture.  

So this fall it came time to preg check the heifers.  We allowed Kenyon to leave school early that day so he could witness the process with his heifer.  In the days leading up to this, he was so excited as he hadn't seen much of her in a few months.  My husband and I were a bit nervous as to how the ordeal would go.  What if she wasn't bred and we had to send her to the sale barn?  What if she was a total nutcase and we couldn't keep her around?   

I was elated when I got the text from my husband that the heifer was bred.  I loved it even more when he sent me this picture and said that Leeva the heifer had remembered Kenyon.  After being gathered from the large pasture and preg checked, Leeva was kicked out in a large pen with 50 other heifers.  Kenyon walked right into the middle of the herd and stood his ground as the heifers nervously frittered around him.  Little by little, he was able to make his way closer to his heifer.  Although wild by default, he said she seemed to calm when she finally realized who was in the pen with her.  He then was able to spend several nice minutes talking to her and scratching her all over.  

Even though I despised this heifer and the tumultuous time she represented in our lives, this picture still brought tears to my eyes.  (Contrary to popular belief, I'm not totally heartless.)  

I've heard countless time over the course of my life that 'a picture is worth a thousand words'.  To me, no words can do this picture justice.  To me, this photo is absolutely priceless.  

Out of the Mouths of Babes

Our children certainly have their own little personalities and many of their statements make this blatantly obvious.  

*****

Kenyon (eight years old) is very analytical and math minded.  Anything worth doing is worth doing correctly, even if it is during playtime.  More than once I've caught him diving across the living room to tackle his brother because his toy trailer was not loaded correctly.  

"I told you to load six head in the nose!  WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!?!"

"So you say I can only have two donuts for breakfast, eh, Mom?  That's still fourteen donuts a week.  I can live with that." 

*****

And then there's John, age six.  He's sneakier than most and he has a quiet vindictiveness that may take him places (but hopefully not jail).  And we've firmly established that his predilection for retaliation means he should, at this point in life, not be in a leadership position.  

He and Kenyon were hauling cattle throughout the house one evening and had been arguing a bit more than normal.  Kenyon drove cleeeeeeeeear into the kitchen and then hollered across the house.  "John - I just drove clear to North Carolina and you mean to tell me there's no load of cattle here???  Are you kidding me?  Why did you do that?"

John continued to drive his pickup and trailer throughout the living room and haul cattle much closer to the pens.  Without looking up, he never missed a beat when he calmly replied and smirked, "Because you made me so mad." 

*****

Kathryn, four years old, is super sweet (most of the time) and her strong faith will hopefully help lead the rest of her siblings down the straight and narrow as they grow up.  She has a mind like a steel trap and will recall minute details from the past three years of her life at the drop of a hat and then become exasperated when I can't recall the same moment in time.  She talks about heaven allllll the time and while some might think it is a bit morbid to be so obsessed with death I find it rather comforting that she's very confident in her eternal home and anxious to get there someday.  

"Hey, Momma, do you think Penny the cat will die this winter???  How cool would that be?  Then she can go to heaven and she and Grandma Curry can be a family again!"  

"Momma, I'm kinda excited to go to heaven.  Then I can have my piano lessons and sing songs with Grandma Curry again."

"Momma, is my heart prepared?"  I frantically searched my memory for any conversation in the past year she may have been privy to for the word 'prepared' and finally recalled the children's message at church a few weeks ago.  "Do you mean is your heart prepared for Jesus and the Christmas season?  Yes, kiddo, I think you're prepared."

*****

And then there's Reese, at one and three quarters years of age.  She's absorbed everything from her older siblings (for better or worse) and is sharp as a tack.  She says several words and is putting small phrases together like I found it!, Where he go?, and I don't know.  

My hands down favorite, however; is when she does something naughty and I ask her if she needs a swat.  Without fail her eyes will become wide, she will shake her head no vigorously and adamantly proclaim "Good girl, Momma.  Good girl!"

Someone Is...

With four kids underfoot, it seems life around here is merely a game of odds, or probability, if you will.  Chances are that someone in our family is doing at least one of these things at any given time.   

Someone is always hungry.  

You simply cannot add enough spicy salsa to this kid's scrambled eggs.
Not possible.

Someone is always in the middle of a growth spurt (thus the hungry part).  

Someone is always drawing blood, getting bruised, being banged up. 

Someone is always needing a shower. (Or a power washer.  Sometimes you have to pull out the big guns.)

Someone is usually reading a book. 

Someone is normally shouting.

Someone is always wrestling.

Someone is normally arguing with a sibling.

Someone probably deserves a swat on the behind.

Mom: Reese, are you supposed to be on the table?
Reese: No! Good girl.
*cue angelic smile*

Someone is wanting to draw. 

Someone is wanting to go fishing. 

Someone is doing something, somewhere, with cattle.

Someone is always needing a nap. 

Someone is singing and/or dancing. 

We constantly listen to the new Cody Johnson CD in the car and everyone jams out. 
And yes, we still listen to 'old school' CDs.

Someone is always exhausted.  (Me.  It is me, the mom.)