CALF TALES from 2016
Helpful Calf Raising Tips on my website Cynthia Queen.com
June 3, 2016 Honda Coop versus Bull Calf
As usual, life distracts me from my horses. Yesterday, I distracted myself by going to the local auction in Waynesburg. Sometimes I can pick up a nice horse to train. Today I met my niece and already she had bought a pot of flowers. I picked up a bucket of eight-penny nails and two four-foot gates. You would not believe how pricey a gate can be brand new. I always like to buy used when I can. Take my little Honda Civic two-door. I got it from a friend who had it all but its first three years. Sixteen years old and running strong.
We watched the horses go through and a beautiful gold leopard appaloosa made me sit on my hands. Good thing it was not a mare as my Tennessee Walker stud would have had one more added to the field. It is so hard not to collect horses as they are like beautiful potato chips. I’m always sad when someone buys one, but, the fun is to go pick out another training prospect. The calves came up and a nice black Hereford stepped out. I had a set price in mind and went up to it. Calves always went higher then my price so imagine my surprise when I found myself a proud owner of a bull calf, only, guess what I drove to the auction. Now my niece is laughing because she has to go the opposite direction of the farm. Guess what has to go in the backseat of the car and take a ten mile trip?
Luckily we bumped in to a male friend with good arms. He volunteered to bring the calf out to us. While I’m clearing the yard sale stuff out of my backseat five people see my niece as she arrives with a “tux pad”, as she calls them. Usually hospitals put these under patients to catch any accidents. They are great for baby farm animals, too. So, here comes the farm boy with my calf and a big grin on his face. He doesn’t hesitate to push the calf behind the back seat and slam the door. If I could have only had a camera for the surprised look on the other people’s faces. It was priceless to say. My niece is laughing hysterically at this point. She says, “It’s all about the farm life.”
I smiled and said, “Gotta go. He’ll over heat.” Now, this isn’t my first offense for bringing babies home in cars. Usually it’s my hubby’s Cadillac. Shh-h-h he never reads these articles so I’m safe here. Anyways, this calf is not laying down as they normally will do. Instead, it is trying to see out the back window like the dog. I was glad I had left some boxes in the seat.
As I leave the auction behind I’m thinking this particular calf might not be such a good candidate for this ride. Last year a heifer, identical to this one, caused four hours of stress after she jumped off the back of the truck and raced out of sight into the neighbor’s fields. That story is under “Porter House Steak.” She is a yearling now.
Well, the calf will not settle down and I am beginning to worry that it might try to jump up and drive. I stretched my arm across the other seat and for fifteen anxious minutes drove down Route 218. Along the way the calf contented itself to lick the back seat and the the box. I was afraid to roll the windows down all the way, even though my air conditioner had quit working. It was ninety degrees outside and one-ten inside. Then, I hear this paper ripping sound. It is followed by some slurping and smacking. The calf had found the newspaper on the floor and was quite happily eating it. Good thing it was yesterday’s news.
Once to the farm I drove up to my daughter’s trailer and grabbed her. Why is it when I need a camera to capture people’s expressions I’m lacking it? I looked at her and said, “Good, you got your shoes. Hop in and let’s go.”
My daughter is staring in disbelief at the hind end of the calf, “How?”
Without hesitating I replied, “We pushed. Now get in because we are going to have to pull this little guy out of here before he has a big accident.” Jumping in I stopped at the driveway and instructed her to get the dog collar and rope off the porch. It is there for escaped goats.
I drove the Honda through the yard. After she opened the gate I drove into the goat yard very glad we had dry weather. It is all clay. After some pushing on the backend and some pulling on the front my car gave birth to an unhappy baby bull who was promptly named after his Momma, “Honda.” So that is how a Honda is born, folks.