cow

We have a bit of a farm mystery on our hands.  Daisy Daisy (Give Me Your Answer, Do), our cow, gave birth to a fine little bull we named T-Bone on July 3rd.  She brought him proudly to the fence for a bit of a photo session the next day.  We haven’t laid eyes on him since.

Before summer started, we had our pastures tilled and sowed with some sort of tall grass cows find tasty that also roots out some other kind of invasive problem grass we had.  For those of you who don’t live on a farm, grass is not just grass.  I would explain more, but, truthfully, I let Russ handle this department.  Here’s what I do know:  most of our pastures are six feet high in some sort of tropical looking long-stemmed grass that’s the stuff of nightmares.

If you’ve seen the movie Secondhand Lions, you get the idea.  This tall vegetation provides the perfect cover for Daisy Daisy and little T-Bone.  It also looks like it could house any number of reptilian terrors.  I’m too stove up from that knee surgery to go on a calf-hunting exhibition, and with Daisy Daisy, it’s smart to keep a fence in between.  I certainly don’t want to startle her.  She’s got a wild eye and a tendency to charge.

So, is my succulent little T-Bone okay?  I don’t know for sure, but I have a couple of clues from nature to put my mind at ease.  Daisy Daisy hasn’t been carrying on.  If the calf were lost, she’d be bawling.  If the calf weren’t milking, she’d be bawling.  No buzzards are circling the pasture.  These are good signs.  Until Russ bush hogs this pasture-turned-jungle, we’ll just have to keep a sharp eye out in hopes of getting a glimpse of our bovine friends.