Little Bit of Trouble with Max

Little Bit had been facing an uphill battle from the moment she was born with water on the brain. She was too weak, even, to suck on the cow. Under such circumstances, experts give the little creature a few days, or at most, weeks to live. In arriving at that conclusion, they had not counted on two factors: the fierce will of Little Bit to live and the wonderfully kind heart of the rancher's wife determined to help her in any way she could towards that goal. For weeks she was bottle fed until she was strong enough to drink from the cow. But while she was staying alive, she remained an unimpressive, underdeveloped runt, so that after about nine months of this, the rancher began muttering darkly such things as, "I think I'll knock her over the head and stop this nonsense." Faced with that grim prospect, the rancher's wife recalled having heard something about the Rescue Ranch, found the number and made the call. She told me the entire story, ending with the question, "Will you take her?" It required no more than a two word reply - "Of course." Once having made that commitment, doubts crept into my mind. Would she require extraordinary care? Could she feed herself? Could she walk? Could she stand? Never mind, I had made the commitment and whatever her condition was, I would have to deal with it. Still, I was much relieved when the trailer arrived and out walked, a little gingerly, mind you, a darling little creature who happily ate grass and hay and drank from the water trough without difficulty.

this is cowtemplation

She readily walked for long distances of her own volition on slightly unsteady legs. While none of the other cattle would intentionally harm her, I could not risk introducing her to the herd. The 'Lovable Lumps', as I call them, are just that, huge lumps. They are big, they are fast, and they good-naturedly push each other around. Any one of them, bumping into Little Bit might injure her because she would not be able to react with the same speed as they did. She led a quiet and seemingly contented life in her own enclosure. I was obviously happier whenever another animal was brought in temporarily for treatment. To raise the question of what animals I could put in with her on a permanent basis that would make her happier. Sheep or calves were the obvious answer.

I located a calf at a feed lot that the operators were willing to sell. In contrast to many other such operators who simply don't give a damn what happens to an unwanted calf, these people sequestered the cow and the calf so that she could feed it and care for it. Thus, she raised a sturdy little calf which was now for sale. He was an attractive, all black, bull calf who had no intention of being separated from his mother. As I watched the strong cowhand grapple with this calf, trying over and over again to corner him, pick him up and load him into my truck, I thought, "Oh oh, this is trouble." Little Bit was delighted with Trouble from the moment he arrived.

At about the same time, there appeared on the acreage an employee of another feed lot with three orphaned calves. The man had sold me seven calves at an earlier time, so I thought he would be able to provide me with a companion for Trouble. Yes, he was willing to sell me one little bull calf.

"What do you want for him?"

"Well, I'll weigh him and figure out what he's worth.", was the reply.

He did so, and multiplied the total by the amount per pound that calves were selling for at that time. Eight hundred and twenty four dollars was the asking price. Ouch! That was due to the Mad Cow disease and the Hoof and Mouth disease that had decimated herds in various parts of the world. Almost exactly double what I had paid for calves before. Time for some negotiating.

"I have six hundred dollars to spare."

That was in the spring, and I was still blissfully unaware of what disaster the summer would bring, and really thought I had six hundred dollars to spare. My friend thought it over. He has a distinct liking for all his animals. He and his wife had come repeatedly to check on the fate and the life of the seven that he had sold me earlier. So he was well aware what kind of a life little Max (that was the name of his calf) would have here. And he was also aware that if he went anywhere else he would live for a year, at most, and then be slaughtered. The decent guy that he is, he decided, "Yeah, I can live with six hundred dollars."

Trouble and Max were a perfect match. While they looked like fire and water, Trouble, all black, Max, a very light brown with a white face and a pink nose, in size and temperament they were exactly alike. They both decided that Little Bit was momma, and followed her around wherever she went. She, the two calves, and two horses, spent an idyllic summer on the best part of the pasture that I have, about thirty five to forty acres.

When fall came, Little Bit had to be returned to her small enclosure. With her went two old cows who had difficulty walking. Two other residents were two other horses who had shared her summer pasture. I expected to have to add still one other old cow to this area which I call the Nursing Home. And while there is an exceptionally cozy shelter, there was simply not enough room for all of those, and Max and Trouble as well. It was time for them to join the herd. They were well received by the gang, but when I went out to feed them the next day, there was no Max, there was no Trouble. I turned the corner and found exactly what I thought I would. There, next to the gate of the nursing home, were Max and Trouble, and on the inside, who they thought was their mom, Little Bit. I fed them right there, that day and the next. But by the third, they had concluded that being able to run free with the gang wasn't such a bad deal.

Still, they remained a pair, always together. Max, in particular, is very anxious not to be separated from Trouble. There are over thirty cattle milling around feeding, and sometimes, suddenly, Max will find himself out of sight of Trouble. He will stand there with a startled look on his face, let out a loud bleat, and when he receives an answer from the other side of the melee, he will rush to join Trouble once again.

Little Bit, on the other hand, was doing fine with her companion cows in the Nursing Home. But I wondered if they understood the advantage of the cozy shelter provided for them. Even as the weather got nastier, I would find them in the morning lying here and there out in the open. That is, until an exceptionally ugly morning. It had snowed the day before, and that snow was being driven around by gale force winds. Such winds can blow down fences or at least make large holes in them. So when I arrived and couldn't see anyone, I wondered if that had happened again and they had wandered off. Then I saw them: There were the friendly faces, peeking out of the small doorways of their cozy shelters. Inside, there were the deep indentations in the clean, thick straw where they had spent a cozy night. And now breakfast was being delivered to their door.

I have just one question. How do I get a job like theirs?