As a part of my good-natured coping mechanism, I thought I would make my calf-time a bit more interesting.  I sought to converse with the calves.  Now, one cannot really talk with a calf, but one may talk to one.

Curious Little Calf

Therefore, I decided that each one should have a nickname.   If one had a unique pattern on his/her face that might trigger a name like “Checker” or “Wolfy.”  Some calves got their names from their location in the shed, such as “Corny” who lived in the corner.  And then there are others who got named by some characteristic in their personalities.

One such calf repeatedly jumped out of his stall in his eagerness to be fed.  A time or two I was successful at putting some calves back in. The calf had to be lifted or helped to jump back into his stall.  But this calf was different. He was not to be distracted from his goal, the milk.  I could not get him to jump back.  I could not serve milk to the other calves while he was hanging around the milk pail.  He would drink it all.

I needed help.  To save the milk from this calf’s advances, I put the milk pails outdoors while I found my husband and got his assistance.  He easily got the calf in the stall.  I fed him and that was that.

The next time I did the chores, I began the feeding process and out jumped that same calf.  I, again, summoned my husband for help.  This scenario could not go on.

The next time I went in for calf chores, I noticed a change in scenery.  My husband had placed a spare stall door over the top of the calf’s stall.  It was tied in place by baler twine.  Problem solved, we thought.

I turned to do the work and sure enough the calf popped out of his stall.  The lid turned out to be on top of the wrong calf!

I decided then and there that the culprit needed a name.   That day, my husband built a ceiling over his stall.  It was high enough that it would not hurt his head and it gave him room to grow.  His name became Jack-in-the-Box.

photo credit: Wenda Grabau
photo credit: Bretta Grabau
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In the 20° F. weather, I got thoroughly chilled.

We moved four older calves today.  They traveled from the calf yard to the big barnyard.  We took three weaned calves to another shed.

Holstein calves in their separate pens

The calves have lived in separate calf pens since they were a day or  two old.  From bottle-feeding, they advanced to drinking from a pail.  Rations ranged from warm, whole milk to half and half, a tepid half water and half milk mixture.   At the proper age, they learned to drink cold water and to thrive on hay and grain.  All of that happened in the confines of the small individual pens they knew as home.

Calves Being Loaded in Wagon

These weaned calves experienced a big life-change today.  They stepped into a little wagon we use for transporting calves.   The tractor pulled the wagon to their new quarters with their own private yard and shelter.

As we unloaded them, they felt the freedom of unconfined movement.  Kicking

Running in Wide-Open Space in the New Calf Shed

up their hind legs, they skipped around the calf yard and barreled into their new calf shed.  One calf kicked around in the shed and onto the slightly frozen yard.  As he did, he slid all the way across the yard to the manger.  I enjoyed watching their antics at their first feelings of freedom.  All too soon the novelty will wear off.  They will learn to complain even in this new setting.

I wonder if we people tend to be like them, that is, enjoying the new changes of life and, with time, forgetting the blessing they are.  It is reminiscent of the anticipation of Christmas and the gifts of the season that give us delight.  As we become accustomed to them and the newness wears off, and we find reasons to complain.

Wouldn’t it be nice to have a super-change in life or super-gift that did not grow old?

We can have just that.  It comes through a relationship with God through knowing Jesus Christ.  The Bible says, “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ!  In His great mercy He has given us a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade—kept in heaven for you.” I Peter 1:3, 4(NIV)

I got tired of doing the chores with uncertain steps shrouded in the darkness of night.  Even though I went to feed calves at 6:30, the blackness overtook in the shadows.  “Wouldn’t it be a grand thing,” I thought, “to have a light with me that I did not have to carry in my hand?”

Head-lamp Similar to the One I Used

Then, I remembered a trinket I had bought during my Vacation Bible School days many summers ago.  That year our class had a cave-type theme.  Since spelunkers use lights mounted on their heads, I used a similar one while teaching the children.  “That would work,” I thought.  So I traipsed off to the attic room upstairs.  Sure enough…it was there!  All it needed was a new battery.

I fixed it up and stretched its elastic straps over my head and turned it on.  It worked.  Great!!  What a find.

I stepped out into the blackness of the night and could see the path ahead.  To my delight, I did not have to step out onto the barnyard slab and feel my way to the stairs as I hefted the milk pails up to the calf shed.

That is one item I am glad I did not toss when the kids left the roost.  It still has hours of use left.

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Sometimes to cope with a chore one needs to watch for the unusual to diminish the mundanity and drudgery of a task.

After getting the routine of my calf chores figured out, I set out on my early morning chores.  The cold night temperatures and the darkness of before dawn light gave proof that nothing out of the ordinary had taken place.  As I left the barn carrying my milk pails across the cement slab of the barnyard, I looked up at the calf shed.  The light was on.

“Hmph, that’s curious,” I thought.  “Maybe my husband was showing me a special courtesy.  Or, on the other hand, he could have gone into the calf shed and forgotten to turn the lights off.  All I know is that I did not leave the switch on.”

With that, I ascended the stairs, one snowy step  at a time, raising up the milk pails carefully to avoid spills.

The cats howled their hungry meows.

The calves voiced their approval that breakfast was on the way.  The cats were fed.  Some calves sucked their bottle of milk.  Others gulped from their calf pails.  Some of those being weaned slurped up their water.  I fed them all a slice of hay.

I carried out the emptied pails and shut off the lights.  I did, really.  I shut the door till the next time when I would feed them.

That evening, once again, as I left the barn, I could plainly see the lights shining in the night.  “Wow!” I thought.  “My husband must have decided to light my way.  What a sweetheart!”   I did my chores and shut off the light.

Next day, I commented at breakfast, ” How nice of you to leave the calf shed lights on for me during my chores.”

“Oh, that wasn’t me,” he said.

With incredulity hanging in my voice I replied, “Well, it has happened several times now.  What is happening?”

 A smile stretched broadly across his face.  “It’s the cats.”

“What?  How do they do it?’ I queried.

“Simple,” he went on. “They shimmy down from the loft along a stud.  As one passes the switch, he bumps it and turns on the lights.”

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phpto credit: Wenda Grabau
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