"If an Amish bull can't get her bred, then nothing will," my neighbor quipped as I dropped off my Jersey cow at his farm to be serviced by his purebred Red Devon bull. She had been open for two years now as I chose not to breed the year after my knee injury and adjusting to running the farm on my own. But the second year I failed to catch her in 'standing heat' in time to call the AI (artificial insemination) guy to get her bred. Two tries, no calf...I seriously considered turning her into burgers & sausages.
But it was the night of the winter solstice and lunar eclipse when I torched off a massive brush pile as the temperatures dipped into the teens that I decided not to load her on to the trailer for a visit to Mr. Horst. Despite the roaring fire in front of me, the chill of the bitter cold night licked at my back until Emma wandered down into the pasture to investigate the flames. There she stood wrapping her massive dark fuzzy body around me in as best of a bovine hug she could muster.
When I went out around six in the afternoon to do chores, gather eggs and check on everyone, it was evident from the large sac protruding from Emma's hind end that calving was imminent. I called the girls next door who had been diligently waiting and hoping that they would get to see the baby being born. They were about to get their wish.
Darn cute, aren't they!
I think I'll send her back for a visit to that bull come July again.