It's 5am, and outside it's dark, windy, a little cold, and my John Henry is out in the corrals. He just arrived from Virginia after a 4 day trip. He's a little spooked and rather hungry. I think I am more happy to see him than him me, but he certainly recognized me. He seems in decent shape after such a long ride, but I will know better when I see him in the daylight.


Have had a few additional four-legged creatures come to run, I mean, come into my life. The first was Little Guy, the orphaned calf. Paul convinced me that, although Little Guy could eat enough grass to stay alive for now, when the cold hit he wouldn't have enough meat on his bone to withstand our harsh winter. His only chance was to get some high-fat milk into him, as well as grass and, maybe, come grain.


So, Paul and I set about catching the calf. Kyle had tried several times on Friday, to no avail. The little bugger was just too fast. Herding calves is about like trying to herd cats; they tend to go the opposite direction from where you want them headed. You'll get them going a little ways, and then something clicks in their brains. They become willing to die trying to get back where they came from. In their minds, that's where they last saw their moms, so, that's where she will coming looking for them. This is even the case if you move the whole herd and the mom's led the way. Once the calves fall behind, as some tend to do, the moms have to stopped to allow the little ones to catch up. If you don't hold up the cows, the little ones will get all squirrely and insist on heading back to where they started from.


Anyway, Kyle could neither catch nor herd Little Guy on Friday, so on Saturday, Paul and I went after him. First we had to find him. The cows and their youngsters are spread over hill and dale, around several dams, and on both sides of several fences. When I spotted him, Paul did a sneak up and dive for the calf routine that was a play straight out of a baseball training manual. Really looked like he'd made a belly-slide for first base. Unfortunately, the calf flew out of there, and even worse, it wasn't the the right calf. I told Paul, as he stood up brushing the debris off his belly and knees, that I was just sure that had been him. But sure as I was, I was wrong. And we were off to find the right Little Guy.


We did find him, and Paul did catch him - by the tail from the 4-wheeler. Paul hung onto that tail as the calf pulled him over the back of the bike. He quickly scrambled to get on top of the calf. He tied his hind legs with twine and looped part of the twine over the calf's head. Little Guy was immobile. Paul got himself and the calf onto the back of the Mule, and I drove us back to the barn.


Now, we had to get some milk into our new bundle of joy. We tried the bottle for a while, then we put down the whiskey and decided to get the milk bottle ready.

I'll tell you all about that adventure a just a bit. Gotta run for now.