Calvin' time

The snow is beginning to recede in Northern Minnesota, giving way to wet, squishy sod. My father and I yearn for the moisture, recognizing its role in securing a healthy stand of grass for both cows and winter feed. However, we're cautious - because we don't want mud. No, mud is likely to swallow you up, dirty the landscape, and more than once we've come right out of our boot in an attempt to get someplace too quickly.

Mud makes us slow down. That's probably why we don't care for it much. But we also don't like mud because of these newborn babes. A temperature hovering around 30º F is ideal.

I found a great poem that encapsulates the way I feel towards calving - probably the most exciting time on our farm next to "breeding" season (which I enjoy because of all the crazy jokes, stories and metaphors I come up with). It's called "Calvin' Time," by Joe Kreger. Just a snippet of it here to pique your interests:

"Sometimes, I just like to stop
and lean back on ol' Buck's rump,
watchin' all those baby calves,
as they buck and butt and jump"