You know, I’ve worn a lot of things. Calf poop is a new one for me.
I’m tellin’ ya, a calf with scours stinks. Literally. And, when the poopy calf and her roommate are confined to a smallish area, the poopy-ness is difficult to avoid. I don’t know how many times I’ve washed my coat over the last three weeks, but it’s a lot. I ran my insulated overalls through the washer last night, too; they needed it. Blech, blech, blech.
Little Red Rose is still a bit up and down. I’m hoping her mood swings and unreliable appetite are due to a diva-ish disposition and not a major health issue. She’s already been diagnosed as dramatic. I can deal with drama. (Incidentally, so can my husband.)
The kids and I mucked out the calves’ apartment this morning while Red Rose and Buddy visited with Patty and Brisket next door. Red Rose occasionally stuck her head in to oversee the whole production; she seemed pleased with our work. It took seven wheelbarrow loads (the emptying of which was meticulously divided among the children) to get rid of the mucky straw, then we gleefully spread clean straw on the floor. I think the calves like it better. I know we do.
Wilma’s new little one has been affectionately named Reuben. We still have not gotten close enough to determine whether it’s a girl or a boy, but a good sandwich is tasty regardless of gender. It is refreshing to see a non-freezing and well-fed calf out in the pasture who needs almost nothing from me.
Beef Patty and Brisket are doing beautifully. They have attempted to make the new little one welcome, but Wilma is still somewhat protective in her mothering. I guess she wants to make sure they will not be a negative influence on young Reuben. Bad company corrupts good character, you know.
It is a fact that I am not overly fond of wearing calf poo. It is also a fact, though, that it comes with the job of caring for an orphaned calf. Do I wish that Red Rose would get her little act together and be more like her roommate, Buddy? Yeah, I kinda do. But, I can be patient until she does. I have certainly had an awful lot of people stand by me when I was making a stinky mess out of my life. It’s painful to remember the poor folks who had to deal with the consequences of my cruddy choices. I sure am thankful for them, though. Even more, I am thankful for a God that takes a filthy heart and washes it with His love. He has had to muck out the stalls of my heart on multiple occasions, and He always seems happy to do it. The freshness of my clean heart is always so…welcoming…even to me. It makes me wonder why I ever refuse His help in cleaning up my messes. Maybe it’s foolish pride in thinking that I can make things better on my own.
I’m glad Red Rose and Buddy aren’t too proud to welcome the cleaning of their little place in our barn. I’m also glad that out of the five calves we have here at Country Haven, only two of them need me to clean up after them at all.