In the midst of the busy harvest season on the farm, we have cows freshening left and right. Normally things go well. Occasionally, we have a cow with issues, but for the most part, the newborn pops out, the momma takes over, we retrieve the little one from the cow pasture and we all carry on.
Once in a while things, don’t go as planned. One morning a cow didn’t come in with the herd. My husband figured she was freshening, so he left her be to finish her job as he milked. Later, as I was washing up milkers and before letting all the cows out for the day, he had gone down with the tractor to bring up the cow wagon and check on the progress of the new mom.
The cow had had her calf at some point, and the calf and momma were standing together as he approached. Perhaps the newborn became overwhelmed at this piece of equipment gradually making its way toward her and her mother. For whatever reason, this little calf took off at a full-blown sprint toward the fence. My husband could not run after it, so he just watched where it went, thinking when it reached the electric barbwire fence the zap would stop it.
Well, the electric barbwire fence did nothing but spur this little bugger on. It scampered under the fence, crossed a hayfield and tore into the adjacent cornfield, getting completely lost inside the maze of, by then, over 5-foot tall stalks of corn.
After bringing the wagon around, my husband came into the milkhouse, “Calf’s in the cornfield!”
Dumbly, I stared at him, not comprehending.
“Come on, we’ll have to go look for it!”
Those words jump-started my brain into gear. I drove the truck with my husband sitting on the tailgate and we combed the length of the cornfield, thinking we’d spot this little one at any moment. We didn’t.
After a time, we decided to let the rest of the cows out and go in to eat our breakfast. We figured the new momma would call to her little one and coax her back into the pasture.
The morning progressed, and as we went about our work, it became more and more apparent that this stubborn little thing was bound and determined to remain hidden. My husband drove over to our neighbor to let him know what was going on. (He laughed and offered to keep the calf if it should show up there!)
Sometime after lunch, we resigned ourselves to the fact that we will have to scour the entire cornfield for this wayward calf and we’d need help. I texted our good friend: “Wod u n ur boys like to help us go on a calf hunt?” He responded immediately: “Yes. Of course. Wat time?” He has two sweet little boys, ages 7 and 6, and they thought this was an adventure.
When they arrived we gave them a serious talk, explaining we were hunting for a little black calf that had escaped from her momma, telling them if they see it, stop, keep their eyes on it and holler, “Here she is!” as loud as they can. Also, we explained that they should stay in their row and keep talking as they walked so we did not lose a little boy as well as a little calf.
Starting out at about five rows apart, we began making our way through the cornfield. As I hunted, the leaves on the stalks brushed against my face. The topside of those leaves have a light, sandpaper texture that soon became annoying. Our friend, my husband and I were eye-level with them. The boys had the advantage as the top of their heads just grazed the bottom of the leaves.
Darting our eyes back and forth, back and forth, we made our way through to the end of the very large field, regrouped and started back again. When I join my family for deer hunting, I sit quietly (well, you know) next to my husband and as dawn breaks I always think I see horns. Everywhere. Those horns eventually morph into twisted, gnarly tree branches. In this cornfield, I thought every dark shadow was the curled-up form of the little black runaway calf.
We got through the entire cornfield, with a watermelon break half in-between, and found nothing. My husband was going to get our four-wheeler to scout one more time, along the pasture and hayfield, when all of a sudden our friend hollered the words we were waiting to hear: “Here she is!”
The little calf had curled up under a pile of pushed up weeds and dirt, hidden so that we almost had to step on her to find her, but find her we did! She was hot and hungry but alive and well and very spunky. That night when I fed her I had to chase her around the pen in order to get the bottle in her mouth. When I finally cornered her, I literally had to pry her mouth open so she’d drink. I think she was just scared!
Today, our calf in the cornfield is settled nicely into her new place and has since been joined by three friends; a cute little bunch of calves who are all, thankfully, tucked inside a pen, safe and sound.
(“And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap if we do not give up.” Galatians 6:9)
