Baby cow is old enough now to eat grass, but still young enough to frolic.
This week I arrived home from a week in the States to wintry England. The trees have all lost their leaves, so when we drove from the top of the cul-de-sac I could see through the nude trees to the pasture behind the house.
Normally the cows have left the pasture by the end of November, but from the car I could see baby calves, running across the field in hot pursuit of mom.
Nothing like the sight of baby cows running across the back pasture to make me feel I've come home. Cows, home, get it?
Here's Baby Cow's mum, at least I'm pretty sure this is mum—look how similar their markings are:
Mum has a similar white blaze down her back, and four white socks.
In England, baby sheep are spraypainted with numbers to match their mums, but cows aren't. I guess these two didn't need any spray paint.
They would know each other anywhere.
