After hearing the forecast, I had put out plenty of hay the day before, so all I'd have to do was check for new calves.

A quick pass around the pasture didn't show any problems, so I started around again at a slower pace. Where was old Granny? I should have sold her last fall, but she had always raised a good calf - I had decided to give her one more year. There she was, standing by herself in a patch of brush. I recognized her by the horns - I wish I'd tipped them when she was a heifer.

It looked like there was a new calf with her, so I got a little closer to check it out. Yep, there was a nice bull calf, and I could tell by the way it acted that it had already nursed. But what was that standing over by that gooseberry bush? It was another calf alright, but it didn't look too pert.

Well, the old thing had twins! Nice little heifer, but she looked weak, cold, and hungry. She had been cleaned, but sure didn't look like she had eaten breakfast. I decided to give her a little help. Uh-oh! Granny didn't want much to do with that second calf, and she sure didn't want anything to do with me.

After about thirty minutes of dodging Granny, I realized that if this calf was going to survive it would be up to me. I put her in the cab of the truck with old Leon, my female coonhound, and headed for the house. After an hour in the bathtub, soaking in hot water, the calf sure perked up.

I made a quick run to the University of Missouri Dairy Farm and purchased some frozen colostrum for the first few feedings, and then I went and picked up my grandsons. It looks like they just inherited a baby calf.