There’s one sure sign that spring has arrived at my house.
A bucket may not be as exciting as watching geese fly north or the winter wind having a little less bite. In my house the large container on the kitchen counter signifies spring is here.
Along with the bucket, a rubber nipple and a two-quart plastic bottle often join the clutter. Their appearance means a newborn farm animal needs human intervention.
This year a black calf requires the milk mixture twice a day due to his mommy’s lack of interest in feeding him on her own.
Life can be tough on the farm.
My family has seen and raised a lot of these “orphans.”
A decade ago, when the kids were still in school, bottle-feeding lambs was a common activity. Their arrival in January and February was a sure sign spring was just around the corner.
One lamb in particular had an especially hard entrance into the world.
We named him Lambert. That he was given a name was a good sign that this story has a happy ending.
His story didn’t start out so happy.
A first-time mommy didn’t understand to lie down to have a baby or that people can assist in relieving her discomfort. The stress from the ever-on-the-move mother left Lambert with a head the size of a softball. Until the swelling subsided, the little guy was unable to open his mouth to drink milk.
Not ones to give up, we would manage to get mouthfuls of liquid into Lambert until the swelling came down for him to drink on his own. When he did drink, however, he couldn’t stand. Thinking he was just too weak, I would prop him between my knees as he drank. However, he always immediately lay down when done.
Closer inspection revealed Lambert’s back leg had been stepped on and broken.
Paint sticks and duct tape stabilized the leg until the bone healed and he was good to stand on his own. He had, like others before him, lived in the basement until strong enough to be outside.
Once outdoors, Lambert was the first to greet everyone in the morning. He would always escape from the barn and would be found on the front steps at the house. After awhile it was easier to let him run than keep putting him in a pen.
His freedom lasted until he would compete with the dog to see who would get inside the house first. It wasn’t unusual to have Lambert baa a greeting as he reached the kitchen.
Eventually Lambert went to market. This is the usual scenario for livestock on the farm.
Our kids fully understood that farm animals are raised for food. That was illustrated one year with a jersey calf.
Because it takes about a year for a calf to reach market weight, we did name the calf.
Instead of naming the big, brown-eyed calf Daisy or another cute name, his name was Roast Beef. After all, he would end up as food once he was market-ready.
Naming him Roast Beef made it easier at the dinner table when the kids would ask, “What’s for dinner?”
The answer … roast beef.