It's March, and it's snowy.
Honestly, this weather.
Anyway, we're still calving (only 70ish more to go!), and thanks to the change in weather, Joe has had to be extra careful, checking the whereabouts of mamas so the calves can be easily checked, tagged, and brought in somewhere if necessary, out of the elements.
That somewhere, currently, is my unfinished basement.
As in, underneath my house.
Don't worry. Our basement is basically a cellar, one where we store things like paint and Christmas decorations in plastic bins. One where there may or may not be the potential for moisture or mice. Our basement will be handy to go to if a bad storm comes, but unlike my life in town as a kid, we won't ever have an air hockey table, TV, and laundry room down there. There's no option for a "finished" basement here.
Anyway, back to the calf.
This little guy (or girl...I forgot to ask) is warming up in our dog pen (even though our dog is too much of a freako to enjoy this basement condo) underneath my floorboards, awaiting Joe to give it a shot of really warm milk. Cold temperatures in the night coupled with snow has made for not prime conditions for this little calf, but he's going to do all he can to give it a good start. I'm to purchase some whole milk today while I'm in town at the gym, just in case it needs some extra help.
Meanwhile, my girls are fascinated by the fact that there's a calf in our basement. Even though they see calves out their windows and with their dad nearly every day, having one in the basement is truly novel, truly exciting, and kind of weird. They want to go down to the basement, hoping to pet it, cuddle it, and possibly give it a bottle.
Joe's just hoping for it to warm up.
I'm hoping that a basement calf isn't a gateway to a bathtub calf.