Stormy weather

Our still-unnamed newborn calf has certainly had a baptism by fire. Well, water.

The huge rainstorm we were predicting Saturday night into Sunday kinda fizzled out. We checked the calf Sunday morning and she was fine, so we opened gates and let Maggie and her baby out to explore the driveway area. I should note that Sunday afternoon was supposed to be dry.

The calf got drenched in a few squalls as she followed Maggie around...

...including a brief but rather intense hail storm.

Later, we noticed the baby curled up near a brush pile while Maggie wandered off to eat.

Nothing unusual about this. Newborn calves normally curl up in obscure locations while their mothers linger nearby. Since we could see the calf from the house window, we kept an eye on her.

A squall came through, dropped some rain, and moved on.

Another squall came through, dropped some rain, and moved on.

And another.

And another.

And another.

And another. What happened to dry weather?

"I don't think that poor baby's been dry since birth," Don remarked at one point. This is when the calf was barely 24 hours old.

(Calf's viewpoint: "All I know about the world is that it's always wet.")

Another squall came and went. At one point, between cloudbursts, I went out to clean the barn. Since the barn has a metal roof, the noise of yet another passing squall was deafening.

It was at this point that Don came into the barn and nearly had to shout over the noise of the rain. He said he went to check the baby, since she hadn't moved in several hours, and he was concerned because she seemed listless. We knew we had to get her under cover.

This was easier said than done. (Most things on a homestead are easier said than done.) I had already pitched a small pile of hay in one of the barn corners in hope the calf would curl up on it. The difficulty wasn't getting Maggie or her baby into the barn; the difficulty was keeping them there, especially through these endless torrential squalls that kept hitting us.

The barn doors swing open, and since we seldom close them, they tend to get jammed in an open position over time. So we had to dig out the doors in the muck and mud. Then, since we planned to keep Maggie indoors with her baby, we needed to get a tub of water inside too. This tub hadn't been used for a while, so we had to hose it clean, then drag it inside, then find a hose long enough to fill it.

When everything was ready, I located a tiny halter and tied a rope to it. Don was right; the baby was listless and shivering. I suggested getting the Gorilla cart once again to transport her into the barn, since we're past the age where we relish carrying a wiggling 50-pound newborn calf uphill in the rain. The two of us managed to hoist the baby inside the cart, and started pushing her toward the barn.

In case you're wondering where Maggie was through all this, the answer was waaay down in a pasture, happily grazing. Eh, new mom. She isn't fully aware of her responsibilities yet.

We finally got the calf into the barn and out of the cart (at which point the halter also slipped off her head; we might need to purchase a smaller halter). But at least she was under cover. Don toweled her off and got her as dry as possible.

By this point Maggie had figured out that we were messing with her calf, so she was bellowing at a gate just outside the barn door. It was fairly easy to get her inside with her baby. We closed them in and left them alone for a bit to relax.

I went out after an hour or so (and a couple more squalls) and saw the calf was, indeed, lying on the pile of hay. That was a nice sight.

Maggie was resting by the feed box on the other end.

The calf soon got to her feet and went to see her mama. Her shivering had stopped and her movements were strong, so we think she'll be fine. Guess who's staying locked up until the rain passes?

But all these shenanigans with rain squalls and torrential downpours finally inspired Don to come up with the perfect name for the new baby.

Stormy.