A Moose Called Fudge

It was a day like any other.  Wait...no days here are the same as the one before.  Let's start again.

It was supposed to be a normal day.  Although I didn't have anything to judge it against.  Ron told me a calf was in the west pen and I needed to ride in on my trusty steed (the bobcat bucket) and pick it up.  He told me that it was to be the only way, saying that it's mother was a wild something something and he wasn't going to go in by himself. 

So, with the wind flying through my hair, I rode that bucket into the face of danger...just kidding it wasn't that bad at all.  There was a cow out there who was pretty crabby and got me scared to jump out of the bucket and grab the little bugger but Ron shouted out the window that it wasn't even hers...and hurry up before the real mom comes!  Yikes!

Now we have Fudge in all her glory.  Lord, she was stupid at first.  If I didn't know better, I'd have  thought she was part Holstien or Brown Swiss.  Wouldn't drink a bottle, then her tongue was swollen (hence not drinking, maybe I'm the stupid one, heh?) I gave her two rounds of Dexsamethesone to cure that, but I still would have to stick my finger in her mouth first, get her sucking and then shove the nipple in her mouth. 

But things are much better now.  Her laid back personality is nice to have and she's so cute.  She's gotten to be more stable on those spindley legs, hence the knickname moose calf.  She also downs a bottle like nobody's business.

Happy Trails!
Suzanne