This is Bully, the putative father. I don't know. Maybe Bully isn't this calf's father. I need to ask Bob. I love the little white rings around the base of both Bully's ears. He is a very nice bull in every way. He's steady and kind. Bulls always look so round, so firm, so fully packed. They haven't got calves draining them dry all day, after all.
Thrilled to see Bob has let the milkweed meadow go this year. I'm unused to seeing such ripe hay around here. Then again, it's been so wet he may not have gotten a chance to cut it.
The well gives up its coolness to us. The water's still moving from Chet's lapping, but he doesn't let me catch him drinking.
This feather came from a year-old bird. Not this year's poult, but 2014's. I can tell it's a young bird by the uncertain and indistinct black barring. The little white fault marks on the shaft mark interruptions and surges in growth, typical of young birds. Perhaps there are those who could tell the sex of the bird from this feather, but I'm not one of them. This bird is molting its central tail feathers in the late-summer molt. New longer ones will grow in, and that will give its fanned tail a distinctive uneven outline--a bump out--at the apex of the fan. That will persist through its next spring and summer. You can age a wild turkey that way. Young birds have protruding central feathers in the fanned tail. When the bird molts and replaces all its tail feathers, the fanned tail will have an even outline, so you'll know it's older than two.
We move down the hill and I find the mystery slip has slipped further down the face of The Toothless Lady.
I always think of how Gomez kissed Morticia up and down her arms on The Addams Family when Chet does this.
He has this special lick he does when he finds a bleeding scratch that's very soft and tentative, very tender. I just love the notion that a dog could empathize, be so careful, and know what hurts. His breeder Jane Streett used to tell me stories about Chet Baker as a little puppy before we came to pick him up. She said he used to chew on her toes as she worked at her computer. When he bit too hard with his tiny milk teeth, Jane would yelp, and Chet would immediately switch to licking her toes.