Some first-time mothers are wonderful - attentive, nurturing and just the right amount of protective to their newborn babes. Others have their baby in the bathroom at prom, then go back to the dance. That being said, Kate recently had her calf, and sadly seems to have fallen into the latter of those categories.
When we found her, the calf appeared to be healthy, but it was evident she had not yet nursed, and Kate was mostly indifferent about her new responsibility. We decided the best course of action was to move the calf to the other side of the lot, near the chute, in hopes that we could get Kate confined enough to allow the newborn to nurse and potentially stimulate some interest in caring for it on her own.
My husband managed to gather up the wiggly little girl and carrying her in his arms he started the up-hill hike. However, Kate was indifferent, showing no interest in following, so I began trying to push her toward the pair. Not ideal, but it was going okay ... until I glanced over my shoulder and spotted Helena. Helena is an older, hate-filled spawn of Satan psycho cow who not only tolerates my husband, but seems to have even developed a fondness for him. As for me? I can kiss her Black Angus arse, and I could tell by her expression she was making plans to free me from my mortal coil.
"Joohhhhnnnn! Throw me your hat!"
He paused long enough to pitch it in my direction. I'm not sure what made me think of it, but as I shoved the well-worn cowboy hat onto my head , Helena's expression changed from "aggression" to "Mind: Blown" by the witchcraftery she'd just witnessed - which gave me enough time to get Kate caught up with her calf.
Eventually, we got Kate secured in the chute and was able to get the calf to latch on for a good, long breakfast.
We released them both into the pen where the younger cattle are, and by the looks of things - well, she still wasn't all that interested in being a mom.
We agreed that if Kate was not mothering within a reasonable amount of time, the calf would come home with us to be bottle fed and sleep on the couch in the living room (okay - we only agreed on the bottle, but I'm working into the rest of it).