Post by lew92 on Aug 30, 2015 12:28:42 GMT -5
Buttercup is 9 years old today. We got her when she was about six weeks old and I am just stunned at how quickly the time has passed.
The earliest picture I can find of her is from when she was 8 months old:
At about 15 months old, approximately 1 month bred with her first calf:
Here is her udder at 4 months bred. Yes, it looks really odd because she has 2 extra teats at the back (not even 1/2 inch long) and her right front teat doesn't show in the photo:
Her udder approximately an hour before she calved the first time. I was making myself not check on her any more often than 2 hours, had stepped outside to ask DH something, and saw her licking something on the ground. She sneaked it in on me!
With her first calf, Connie. BC was the same color when I brought her home:
I won't bore you with a lot of other photos, but this is her from last fall with her most recent calving:
We've had our ups and downs over the past nine years. I would say that she has started somewhere around 50 calves over 6 lactations. "Started" because we've bought some calves and only kept them a couple of weeks to get them on the right track, then sold them on as bottle babies. Most of the time, she has 2 calves on her, averaging 6 calves per lactation over the past 4 years. She's not a loving foster mom, except to a very select few. I guess I'd call her more of a wet nurse.
She got me started on the road of making dairy products, which lead to my teaching home cheesemaking classes at community ed. Which led to other classes. Because of the bounty she provides, we started keeping butcher pigs - something DH never wanted, but could see the sense of with all that milk and whey. And he fell in love with them.
She's bruised me, broke 3 fingers, pooped on me, and beats me regularly with her tail. She could have killed me when she mounted me in the corner of the barn. She's stepped on my toes and rejected my love pats, refuses to take treats from my hand, and truly wants nothing to do with me when she has her own calf.
I've sobbed on her shoulder, had her wrap her head around me in a hug, had her lavish me with her tongue, and sobbed in joy over the delivery of her calves.
She has changed my life in ways that nothing, barring becoming a mother myself, has ever done.
Happy Birthday, Buttercup! And many more to come!
The earliest picture I can find of her is from when she was 8 months old:
At about 15 months old, approximately 1 month bred with her first calf:
Here is her udder at 4 months bred. Yes, it looks really odd because she has 2 extra teats at the back (not even 1/2 inch long) and her right front teat doesn't show in the photo:
Her udder approximately an hour before she calved the first time. I was making myself not check on her any more often than 2 hours, had stepped outside to ask DH something, and saw her licking something on the ground. She sneaked it in on me!
With her first calf, Connie. BC was the same color when I brought her home:
I won't bore you with a lot of other photos, but this is her from last fall with her most recent calving:
We've had our ups and downs over the past nine years. I would say that she has started somewhere around 50 calves over 6 lactations. "Started" because we've bought some calves and only kept them a couple of weeks to get them on the right track, then sold them on as bottle babies. Most of the time, she has 2 calves on her, averaging 6 calves per lactation over the past 4 years. She's not a loving foster mom, except to a very select few. I guess I'd call her more of a wet nurse.
She got me started on the road of making dairy products, which lead to my teaching home cheesemaking classes at community ed. Which led to other classes. Because of the bounty she provides, we started keeping butcher pigs - something DH never wanted, but could see the sense of with all that milk and whey. And he fell in love with them.
She's bruised me, broke 3 fingers, pooped on me, and beats me regularly with her tail. She could have killed me when she mounted me in the corner of the barn. She's stepped on my toes and rejected my love pats, refuses to take treats from my hand, and truly wants nothing to do with me when she has her own calf.
I've sobbed on her shoulder, had her wrap her head around me in a hug, had her lavish me with her tongue, and sobbed in joy over the delivery of her calves.
She has changed my life in ways that nothing, barring becoming a mother myself, has ever done.
Happy Birthday, Buttercup! And many more to come!