Suzanne delivered her first calf in a sleet storm, with 40 mph winds. Fearful that the baby wouldn't survive overnight, I took a big risk, lifting the heifer into my arms, backing out a gate and kicking it shut.
Many cows would have run me down. But I trusted Suzanne's sweet, obliging personality, and she trusted me. As if she'd read my mind, she ran around the barn and was waiting in a dry stall when I arrived with the calf we named Violet.
Although calves are as playful as puppies, it's a rare cow with a sense of humor. Suzanne, however, would approach and lower her head for petting. Then she'd toss her head, fling your hand up, and shuffle her feet in a little happy dance. The winter she kept Bernie the bull company in their private two-acre pasture, she imitated his habit of eating apple slices out of our hands.