Because, everything was going a little too well. Like, getting Macy on grass.
For several hours every day, Macy heads out on grass all by herself. A little quiet time all to herself. Success.
I'd love to see her on grass twice that amount of time every day, but Macy has moved beyond wet-nurse and taken on an adoptive roll to the two calves. She doesn't want to be apart that much. She willingly leaves them in the morning, but passes on her afternoon break.
Obviously, this role exceeded our projected goal. Ten-fold.
On day 5, we got a little jammed up.
While baby black cow bounced around the barn like a rubberband, baby brown cow was deteriorating and just not doing well. Set-back.
His stools weren't watery but they were loose and he was decidedly under the weather. After a quick consult with my girl Vicki, I pulled baby brown cow from Macy's side (Mace was ticked and she growled at me. Who knew cows can rumble and growl?) and put him in the pen where they could still see each other, but I could make sure baby brown was eating.
Gusty and I spent the evening, every two hours, pushing about 4-8 ounces of milk, elctrolytes and a fresh egg through the babe. At 1 or 2 am, I called it a night and fell into bed.
The next morning, I found a calf back on his feet and we hit the reset button; cleaned the barn to the floors, a dusting of diatomaceous earth topped with knee deep bedding. Macy milked and turned out on brand new grass before coming in for a reunion.
Awww. What a relief. Baby brown back on his feet, eating at free will. Even having enough energy to mirror his new mama....this is how you eat hay.
This is how you make your nose super big in photos.
Bullet dodged. Whew. Success.