I went to Skip’s farm yesterday and brought my cow home. I missed her. She came alone, as she has every day since the one day she had the bull’s attention (and the other day that she came with a gaggle of girls). When we got BP last year in April, she had been with a bull for four months. We didn’t know whether she was pregnant or not, but she had Glory Bee in September. (Which means she “took” the first month she was with the bull.) I think BP is one of those girls who gets pregnant easily, so hopefully she is.
Skip doesn’t charge us anything to have his bull stud BP, by the way. When it was all over, I brought him a loaf of Grandmother Bread, a jar of Apple-Maple Jam, and some homemade butter (BP’s contribution). I have lots of sort of surreal moments around here where my family has lived for 200 years, and one of them is taking Skip–who lives in the house my grandmother built and where my dad grew up–a loaf of the bread she taught my mother to make. (We’re buying half a cow from him for our beef this year, yay.)
Even though I wasn’t there at the usual time yesterday, BP came right away. She’s a good cow.
When we took her over there, we made an arduous journey over the hill, a back way to Skip’s farm without following the road. Supposedly, it was shorter. I don’t think so. It also involved some difficult terrain AND A HILL.
BP and I aren’t spring chickens, ya know!
Anyway, so we drove over there and I took BP by the lead and walked her home–on the road.
Which, for this stretch, is relatively FLAT.
Walking down a country road leading a cow is one of those moments where I feel like a little girl playing dress-up in farmer clothes, or maybe as if I’m wandering on foot through a children’s storybook. BP is such a good cow; she just clip-clopped down the road.
52 followed behind us in the truck, making sure no one came up too fast behind us. We only encountered one car on the way. BP and I “pulled over” and she ate grass on the roadside, completely ignoring the passing vehicle. She’s cool, calm, and collected, my BP. It’s about a mile to the river ford.
This way was so much easier, BP didn’t even care to stop for a drink.
From here she could hear Glory Bee mooing from the top of the hill and she knew she was home.
This is how I know I must be home:
Up the driveway–
–past the gardens–
–and into Glory Bee’s waiting arms.
She missed her mommy.
She was so excited to see her mommy that she was feeling really generous. She offered to give me the day off milking.
This calf is never going to be weaned, is she?
I gave them a few minutes to enjoy their reunion before taking mommy on to BP-land.
BP really appreciated it.
I’m just glad to have her home. Now all that’s left is watching the calendar and counting the days to see if she goes into heat again!