Shhh! Scribbler at Work

Small Beginnings

(prompt: 'bounce' 15/6/2018)

"It's a boy... a great big beautiful boy."

"... and he's alive?" I couldn't believe it. Only the most shallow of puffs, but the miracle continued despite the long and difficult birth. My heart pounded so hard I could barely breathe either. As if from someplace far away, I found myself aware my mouth was as dry as my palms were sweaty. I felt a rush of relief as strong as if I'd given birth myself. He WAS a beautiful boy.

With the drama over at last, Kanute's practical nature re-emerged. "What do you reckon he'd weigh? He's a big 'un, alright."

Sven pondered for a moment, squinting his eyes as he carefully appraised the new baby. He held his chin and wagged it a few times. "Ahh, dunno... hard to say, but wouldn't be surprised if he weighed over 60kg. Maybe even 65?"

A good average birth weight of a calf is between 18-22+ kg (40-50 lbs.) for smaller breeds like Jerseys, and 32-45 kg (70-100 lbs.) Friesians, Holsteins, and some larger Guernseys. Definitely 'bouncing baby boys and girls'. And bounce they do, in the shortest imaginable time from being a weak, wet and bedraggled newborn into almost giant status in the herd. For reasons that will become obvious, I would later name this memorable 'big boy' calfie, Roger the Rodeo Rogue.

When you teach a calf to drink from a teat, you begin by straddling it with your knees tightly performing a half-Nelson hold behind the jawbone. It's a highly successful maneuver... mostly! But then you have one like Roger, already SO tall I needed to stand on tippy-toes, hanging on for grim death. At my most precarious moment, he not only tossed the bucket of milk high in the air so we both wore the contents, but he simultaneously charged forward, taking me with him.

In that instant an absolute determination was born. I would NOT let my 'un-trusty steed' go, after all the difficulty of catching him in the first place. Round and round the small holding yard the two of us galloped, creating our own personal dust-storm, our own mini-rodeo. Had he been the tiniest bit bigger and his bucking would have thrown me off... but I was made of tough stuff in those days.

Alerted by my shouts and curses when the bucket flew skywards, Kanute became helpless with laughter, enjoying the free show far too much to come and help me. Strangely, I had no breath (nor inclination) for laughing. Seem to remember saving it all for swearing! Genteel manners tended to slip away quite easily in these circumstances - atop my 'bouncing baby'... my Roger.