August is 4-H fair month. I ran into some new friends who have daughters in 4-H and of course that got me ruminating about my experience.
The year I turned ten, in early spring, our cow, Old Belle, gave birth to a perfect little heifer. She was mine. It was my job to train her, feed her, and clean her. In August, I would show the world just what a capable 10 year-old I was. This was no ordinary calf, she was a registered Holstein. She needed a name that would befit her lineage.
I named my first calf Tiny. That was a good name for a calf, but not so good for a grown cow, besides there was only one Tiny, and this new little wobbly legged calf was not her.
My new calf looked a lot like Old Belle: mostly black with the perfect amount of white marking across her back, up her feet and legs and under her belly. There really is such a thing as a perfect look when it comes to Holsteins. Too much white is bad, no white is bad too.
Old Belle never even saw my calf’s father. That’s because Dr. Friese came over with his little frozen vial, and that’s how Belle got pregnant. Dr. Friese came to the door and asked for a tea-cup of hot water. That’s how I knew a cow was gonna be pregnant pretty soon. I had to stay in the house, I never got to watch, just like when the pigs got castrated. Continue reading