April is usually the beginning month for calving here, although many farmers choose to calve earlier. The cows on our farm are gentle. They let you walk right through the herd, even when a cow is calving, although I keep an eye out for a nervous mama. They aren’t my cows. Ed and Mary Cooley rent pasture on the farm as they did when my dad was still here. But I get to enjoy the babies. I think these cows are gentle because Ed spends time with them, moving them from pasture to pasture, often daily. And in winter and early spring he adds hay to their pasture for feed.
The above picture by my son-in-law Robin appeared in my book A Place of Her Own, the story of my great-great-grandmother Martha Maupin who founded this farm in 1868, now a sesquicentennial farm. The picture illustrated a moment described in one of the Interludes in the book that told of my search for Martha’s story. My dad, Gene Fisher, farmed the place for 75 of those 150 years, more than any other owner in the family’s history. The fourth and last Interlude closes with the morning after he died.
The morning broke, bright and sunny. . . . We looked out the kitchen window to the apple tree across the nearby creek. A new black calf stood on wobbly legs beneath the tree, his mother gently licking his back. The first calf of the season had been born in the night. . . . I wished I could share with Martha the hope I found in this place and in the wonderful creatures who lived here with us. After the long dark night, there would be a bright new morning.
And new calves.
(The Globe Pequot Publishing Group, pp. 202-203)
