I was born in early April, forty-eight years ago, so these
things are true about me: I suffer perennially from spring fever; I am stubborn
like the ram on my zodiac sign; I am an eternal optimist and, I love the rain.
This year, however, April is a bit drunk. It’s been snowing, then sunny with a
balmy breeze, then torrential downpour, then snowing again. Ah well. We can
trust Mother Nature is just having a bit of fun with us and spring will be here
soon. The robins and tulips are not impressed.
Our six new calves, aged three days to two months, don’t
seem to mind the snow. The two oldest calves chase the barn cats in circles
around the feeder while the little ones watch from a safe spot behind the
nanny-cow. The nanny (self-appointed guardian of the kindergarten) had her own
calf last week and Mocha seems to have given hers up for adoption so the most
maternal of the bunch is actually feeding two babies. We aren’t sure yet
whether she is aware of that fact and just exceedingly generous, or if the calf
is smart enough to steal the milk from her when she isn’t looking. She spends
the day with all six calves curled up around her so she probably can’t remember
which one smells like hers.
I’m not sure what Mocha is up to. She seems to have lost
interest in her calf soon after leaving the barn, but they are both thriving.
She does allow the calf to cuddle up to her. I will have to stalk them to see
if she is still feeding. The Farmer thinks she has gone back into season
already, based on a recent slow dance he witnessed between Mocha and the bull.
We have six calves born, and we are still waiting on the
other six.
The two barn cats that came in for the winter left the house
for a few weeks in early March when all the snow melted but now they are
baaaaaack. Junior, the grey tabby, bolted into the house when he saw an
opportunity one morning, and he has refused to go back outside. He seems to
have been in some sort of a fight during the few weeks he was returned to the
barn. Likely he found a Tom who had been over-wintering there, and now he has
to re-assert his dominance and claim his territory. By the looks of him, the
battle isn’t going his way.
At first I thought he had mange or something. The back of
his hind leg is totally bald, and he has a tiny hole in the top of his head.
When I pet him, a patch of hair also fell off his hind flank. I asked the vet
about it and they said he is likely over-grooming his wounds after a fight.
He’s basically cleaning his own injuries so much that he has licked his fur
right off. He isn’t itchy, so I know it isn’t mange. And he got the flea drops
in March along with everyone else. So I guess he is welcome to stay in the
house for his convalescence.
A weird thing happened when Junior returned – the other two
fulltime housecats, Sheila and Sammy, ostracized him. After that initial sniff
for identification they decided he was either a threat to their health or their
territory and they hissed at him every time he approached for a neck rub. Poor
little dude. He still doesn’t like to be petted by humans but will allow me to
stroke his fur if he is distracted by food. Even scruffy barn cats need love.
He has been back in for just over a week now and Sam has finally decided he is
worthy of a snuggle. Sheila still boxes his ears if he gets too close.
It’s supposed to be twenty-one degrees this weekend so
hopefully all of the cats will go outside for a few days and give me a chance
to give their winter lair in the basement a thorough spring cleaning. And if
the warm weather continues, as it has in previous years, it will be tempting to
start gardening. But I won’t get caught planting veggies too early because you
can be sure Mother Nature has a few more surprises in store before the frost
season is over.
dianafisher1@gmail.com
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