The Good Life

I am so very glad that I grew up in the country.  I learned an incredible amount growing up on a farm, and am forever grateful to my parents for it.  I sometimes am incredibly sad that my kids won't have the same, but every once in a while there are glimmers.

Dad stil farms, and currently does custom feeding.  Recently a batch of open heifers (meaning they're not pregnant) had one that turned out to be not-so-open, and this little guy was born last week.

His mama, for some reason, decided she didn't really want to be a mama, and refused to let him nurse.  So Dad brought him up to the house to bottle feed and nurse back to health.

Brought back so many memories of taking care of sick calves as kids.  I remember Dad bringing them into the house in the winter, trying to keep them from freezing during a bad storm.  And Butthead, the calf we bottled raised after his mama rejected him, too.  He followed my sisters and me around like a puppydog for a while.  

The kids loved being able pet him.  Isadora named him Ben.  I'm not quite sure she's made the connection that calves like Ben end up being hamburger, but that's part of life on the farm, too.  Take as good care of the animals as possible, then move on.

This little guy won't be around long, just long enough to get him healthy and off to the sale barn to be raised with a group his own age.  But I'm glad the kids had a chance to see him for a while.