Meeting Cattle

 

This blog is about cats. But sometimes, accidents happen. And one of them that happened this week: we got a little bull-calf called Willy 3. (I had to call him Willy 3, as I already have a mother and a very nice cousin by that name.)

Willy 3 is a little bull, born two weeks ago and 3 weeks prematurely - the surviving half of twins that weren't supposed to enter this world until some time next week. At 23 kilograms (that would be about 50 American pounds, and even less when we got him) he  is not commercially interesting. To have any economic worth, a calf has to weigh more that 66 pounds (over 30 kilograms). So Willy 3's future was not looking good. The farmer didn't know what to do with him: too light to let  him live, but somehow too tenuously sticking to life to let him die just like that. So Inge took him home after she texted me if I wanted to raise a calf and I said, yeah, sure.
Chick and Chucky have to get used to Willy 3 - not so much because he is bigger than they are, but because he moves in a rather uncontrolled way. So far, they are interested but they are keeping their distance, because the phenomenon Calf moves in mysterious and rather uncontrolled ways. To be continued. For more pictures of Willy 3, click here.