Stooge is still standing. THAT's a good sign. (She's the old gal with the horns, at the center of the photo). Here's what all the commotion is about:
It's a girl. I think. I took only the briefest glance. My big concern was the Mom. Stooge prolapsed having her last calf. And once before that, a few years back. The vet's advice was to put her down. "She's old ... past her prime ... costly to feed ..."
But I protested ... "she's more of a pet than a production cow ..."
He put her back together, sewed her up, shook his head in disgust, and then told me to be sure to keep the bull away from her. Right. Ever tried that? Well, the bull is gone, but apparently left his calling card. Thankfully, everything seems to be okay. DH is good at cow repair, but not me! Bad enough I have to play midwife to the ewes who can't do it on their own. At least they're small enough for me to wrestle to the ground if need be.
Now I'm off to have a cup of coffee, relieved that there's no new trauma -- for now, at least. Then I'll go back and make sure the baby looks as if she's eaten. Maybe I'll call her "Relief."
Who was the first guy that looked at a cow and said, "I think that I'll drink whatever comes out of those things when I squeeze them."? ~ Bill Watterson
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