Years ago, after a January snowstorm left about four inches of snow on the ground, I had to go out into the woods to look for a cow that was due to have a calf. (Cows often "pick" the WORST weather to have calves in!) It was very cold, of course--temps in the mid-teens, wind chill near zero. So I'm traipsing through the woods in this snow, and here comes a mother skunk and three babies that were maybe three to four months old, marching right toward me in a perfect straight line. I stopped, stood still in the snow, and mama marches, literally, right over the toes of my boots!--and the babies followed her! I'm sure that if I had twitched a toe or anything else, mama would have immediately given me "The Treatment." I could hear the little ones meeping and whispering as they marched over my boots, like they were saying, "Hey, Mom, what IS this thing? And what's this white stuff?" Then they marched on, without so much as a how-do-you-do? They walked around a bush, and that was the last I saw of them.

It was a neat experience!

BTW, did you find your cow in time?

... trying to get her to go to the barn! She wanted to stay away from the rest of the herd.

Which means when a front comes through - or a hurricane.

I've spent many nights out with foaling mares in the nastiest weather. One of the most memorable was a night when it was about 34 degrees and sleeting. One of my favorite mares was due to foal - she almost always foaled a 342 days and that was this night. So I went out into the foaling pasture, caught her, dragged her into the barn, where she did NOT want to be, and put her in one of bigger stalls with fresh bedding.

She absolutely refused to have her baby with all the other horses around. I could see the contractions rippling across her sides, but no foal. The next day the vet was out and I had him check her to make sure nothing was wrong. The foal was lined up in the birth canal, ready to go - so ready the vet said he was surprised it didn't follow his hand out.

The weather that night was much better, cold but clear and dry so I put her back out. She foaled around two AM. I got there just as the foal was pushing out of the birth sack and got to watch the filly stand and nurse for the first time.

The delay gave the filly her name - the night she was born was February 14th and we named her Valentine.

...(falling barometer, falling calf....)

Another calf was born on a blustery January night that turned bitterly cold. We didn't think she was quite due yet, so we didn't try to bring mama to the barn before-hand. So, at 2am, I'm awakened by the sound of a cow bellowing, and worse, dogs barking. I got up, threw my coveralls on over my underwear, grabbed a rifle and a flashlight and ran out the door. Sure enough, out across the pasture, about 75 yards from the house, were three dogs around a cow, nipping at her and barking, trying to draw her far enough away from her calf that they could grab it. My flashlight was too weak to see them clearly, so I just aimed my rifle best I could while holding the flashlight, and shot. My shot was followed by one short yelp, then silence. I walked down to check it out; ten feet from where the cow was standing, with a new calf beside her, was a neighbor's dog that I recognized. It had a bullet hole half an inch above its right eye--I couldn't have made a better shot if I had walked up to it and put the muzzle of the barrel up to its head. The other dogs ran off at the shot. The cow's chest was heaving in exhaustion--she wouldn't have been able to hold out against the dogs for another minute. After giving her a couple minutes' rest, I started nudging the calf toward the barn, and Mama followed. Happy ending, thanks to an amazing dumb-luck, one-in-a-million shot.

BTW, we had another calf that was born on Feb. 14th--a white-faced polled Hereford with a perfect red heart in the center of its forehead--and we named her (you guessed it!) Valentine!

But one of my mares literally ran me over going after our dog, even though she knew him well and he was not even looking at her foal. Another attacked my cat - didn't kill him but he had a hernia from one hip to the other.

Some of my mares went after a neighbor's dog who got into their pasture. The four mares ran that dog for at least ten minutes until it ducked under the fence to get away. The dog thought he was safe, but then the weanlings out of those mares decided what their mamas were doing looked like fun, so they went after the dog. Another ten of fifteen minutes of running and the damn dog finally made it to the fence to get back home. Those horses all were from cutting and working cow horse lines and obviously wanted something to go after!

Sometime later that dog disappeared. The owners put up posters all over the neighborhood but never found it. I wouldn't be surprised if there is a dog skull out in the lower pastures somewhere. I also saw those mares go after foxes in the pastures, so they were not fond of canines at all.

It was de-scented and domesticated. I was very young and don't remember much, except it was quite shy and slept in my aunt's lingerie drawer. When we visited we were told never to close any drawer we saw open so Jezebel wouldn't get trapped.

Some great stories here, that I have certainly enjoyed reading.

All of our barn cats here know to stay away from the mini-donkeys, as they will most definitely be chased. They will also go after dogs if given the opportunity, or their roommates, the goats, if they become annoyed.



Baby Kami is all grown up now, but will still jump on the donkey's backs. Sometimes they'll let her ride around for awhile, before bucking her off. She is a little skunk!

about the effect of infantile features on the human psyche. We seem to respond to baby animals of all kinds.

Some people theorize that "cuteness" is an evolutionary adaptation because it makes otherwise demanding newborns endearing and irresistible. Or maybe it is our response to cuteness that is the evolutionary adaptation.

Our own young can be pretty annoying at times. Just when we're ready to expose them to the elements on a hillside, they look at us with those big eyes and we're all theirs for the taking.