Evening Excitement!

Phil went to do laundry this morning. I attempted to plant bulbs, until, after about an hour of punching the planter into the soil so shallowly that the bulbs' tops came near the top of the holes, I gave up in disgust.

Phil arrived home and together we went to plant. The top of the planter bent almost immediately (or maybe my incredible jumps had bent it), but Phil was able to plunge them in quickly and deeply. I cleared the weeds around the next tree and placed the bulbs where they would go.

Then UPS delivered a new bulb planter, the Badger. A very sturdy piece of equipment (with a lifetime warranty), Phil plunged it into the ground with a sigh of pleasure: "That's the way it should feel."

And then we spent the next few minutes trying to figure out how to eject the clay plug from the planter. Eventually we figured out that if we push hard on the top, the plug will go out, much compressed. (In perfect soil, the spring-loaded top pops the plug out, but in our soil, it takes full strength to push it out.)

Then FedEx showed up and delivered another new bulb planter, that attaches to the cordless drill.

Phil didn't like it that much: it took a good amount of time for each hole, and then, in order to eject the soil plug, the device came with a little stick to poke the soil out.

And so it went: the Badger worked well. Except sometimes the clay soil (perhaps with a rock stuck in it) would be so compacted that we needed the cordless drill planter to dig it out. When the Badger worked well, Phil appreciated that he didn't have to bend down at all.

After doing about a gross of bulbs, Phil's muscles were spent. Twelve trees done in good time ... but we need to do the equivalent of 30 trees a day until Christmas. We hope for stronger muscles in the near future.

***

Nine months ago, our bull Snowman came to live here. He headed straight for Bethany and, after a purposeful 18 hours of pursuit, he bred her. Due tomorrow, I have been somewhat concerned over her lack of robust rotundity. Last year, she was so round for the last month of her pregnancy that Phil and I were convinced every day would be the day. This year, I wasn't sure she was even expecting until Phil noticed yesterday morning that her udder was filling.

Last evening, we walked her over from the paddock where the cows are grazing and put her in the dry lot with Fern. Bethany immediately tore into the hay and spent all day today eating.

About 8pm, Phil went to bring multiple baskets of laundry in from the car and went to check Bethany. "I think she's in labor," he announced, and the boys and I went to see.

Bethany was munching hay, but suddenly her tail went out as if she were going to poop, but no poop came out. Her body was hunched over for perhaps 30 seconds or so, and her backend vibrated a bit. We waited perhaps five minutes, but saw no more contractions.

Less than an hour later, I went out to check on her. She was making little grunting noises and had little white hooves sticking out! The baby was almost here!

I confess that human excitement is not the best labor and delivery aid for animals, but Jadon, Isaiah, and I were so eager to watch the birth. (Phil was more circumspect: he didn't feel the urge to follow her quite as closely.) The hooves came out a bit more, retracted a bit, then poked out a few inches.

And then Bethany lay down in the hay! The baby was coming!

The boys and I walked sedately around to her back end. In the weak flashlight beam, we could see a little white and a little black. And the black quickly grew: head, back, hips, out.

There was a weak gurgle, and then a very faint, wet moo. Bethany swung her head, saw her baby, and immediately stood up and began to lick the babe.

We all giggled silently at the first true "moo" by the little calf. It was like gurgling underwater: very wet. But after a few delicate sneezes, the moos were properly dry sounding, and Bethany kept up her calm soothing mama moos.

We watched for a time by the flashlight, hoping to see the first stand, but we shifted about, crunching dry leaves, and flashlight beams in the eyes are certainly not relaxing, so we headed in.

Forty minutes later, Phil went back out to ensure that the baby had stood up. After birth, it had gradually moved downslope until it was resting next to the boundary cattle panels, wedged against the extra panels stored right there. Because the book said that after thirty minutes it is good to aid a little one, Phil helped it up.

And found it's a GIRL! Welcome, baby Charity!

So wobbly, she kept backing her hind legs into the confounded cattle panels, and Phil would gently put her hooves back out again. After perhaps ten minutes, she took some tentative steps forward, and ended up facing forward, licking her lips, her mother's udder about even with her udder. Bethany is an experienced mother, so she turned around, so the calf is in better position.

And, again, we returned to the house to give them a chance to sort out teats and tongues and such.

The weather could not be more ideal for this time of year. The high today was 71, and even now it is 66. The forecast shows no drops into the thirties until Thursday night. Although Accuweather did predict 1.7 inches of rain on the way.

Funny: last year Bethany gave birth in the midst of three days when we had six inches of rain. Little Belle lived, but it was touch and go.

I will hope for better with baby Charity.

Rejoice!