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It was the beginning of our Winter Birthing season...

A bitter cold wind hailed the start of the morning when I walked into the field to observe the herd. As I stepped from behind the coral, I witnessed a cow tending to her newborn calf. I approached them, but as I came over the hill of hay I noticed a second lump on the ground, a moving, black lump stirring to life. The cow stood over not one, but TWO. The connections snapped together immediately. TWINS! The first time. Ever.

Two bulls, but the mother could only take one. As the first calf stood for the first time, he tried to gather his awakening senses and approached his mother. Trying to suckle from his mother, his efforts were in vain, as she rejected him to nurture the shivering second born on the ground in front of her. Ultimately she made the defining move. Dozer (the cow's name) stepped behind the first newborn calf, and with a strong shove of her head (the reason for the name), sent the child into my lap. "So that's what its going to be, Eh?" I said, and I gathered the calf into the blanket I brought with me and carried him into the stable.

We did our research, talked to our vet, and were moving forward with the necessary steps. We expected Twins this season, just not from this cow. I had another advantage. I learned from raising my first calf and was prepared if I were to take on a second. However, Pearl was fortunate to have her mother for her first three days, but this one would never know that luxury. Swept into my arms from the first moment he could walk by a mother that focused her eyes on her second born son.

The first days were the hardest.
I could not stop second guessing myself. "Did I do the right thing?" I asked, forcing nutrients into a creature that could not take care of itself, nor given the chance by his birth mother. The days moved by slowly, and with each attempt the calf began to take to the bottle more willingly. By the end of the first weekend it became clear. "Yeah, I did the right thing, and I think I know what I am doing."

My Little Black Shadow, Julius, #9 (bull tag). Son of Pollie and Dozer. Brother to Vincent (a cookie to the first one to guess where these names came from). Pinzgauer and Black Angus/Gelbveigh combined. My new calf. My new mission. It's going to be one helluva Winter.

At first he could barely walk without tripping and skidding to a heel over hoof halt, but now he flies. Literally. Boy can grab some air!

Photograph taken by my mother during Skid's afternoon feeding time.

Description
It was the beginning of our Winter Birthing season...

A bitter cold wind hailed the start of the morning when I walked into the field to observe the herd. As I stepped from behind the coral, I witnessed a cow tending to her newborn calf. I approached them, but as I came over the hill of hay I noticed a second lump on the ground, a moving, black lump stirring to life. The cow stood over not one, but TWO. The connections snapped together immediately. TWINS! The first time. Ever.

Two bulls, but the mother could only take one. As the first calf stood for the first time, he tried to gather his awakening senses and approached his mother. Trying to suckle from his mother, his efforts were in vain, as she rejected him to nurture the shivering second born on the ground in front of her. Ultimately she made the defining move. Dozer (the cow's name) stepped behind the first newborn calf, and with a strong shove of her head (the reason for the name), sent the child into my lap. "So that's what its going to be, Eh?" I said, and I gathered the calf into the blanket I brought with me and carried him into the stable.

We did our research, talked to our vet, and were moving forward with the necessary steps. We expected Twins this season, just not from this cow. I had another advantage. I learned from raising my first calf and was prepared if I were to take on a second. However, Pearl was fortunate to have her mother for her first three days, but this one would never know that luxury. Swept into my arms from the first moment he could walk by a mother that focused her eyes on her second born son.

The first days were the hardest.
I could not stop second guessing myself. "Did I do the right thing?" I asked, forcing nutrients into a creature that could not take care of itself, nor given the chance by his birth mother. The days moved by slowly, and with each attempt the calf began to take to the bottle more willingly. By the end of the first weekend it became clear. "Yeah, I did the right thing, and I think I know what I am doing."

My Little Black Shadow, Julius, #9 (bull tag). Son of Pollie and Dozer. Brother to Vincent (a cookie to the first one to guess where these names came from). Pinzgauer and Black Angus/Gelbveigh combined. My new calf. My new mission. It's going to be one helluva Winter.

At first he could barely walk without tripping and skidding to a heel over hoof halt, but now he flies. Literally. Boy can grab some air!

Photograph taken by my mother during Skid's afternoon feeding time.