Pot-Bellied Stove and a Newborn Calf

It was 1947. I was about 4 years old when I accompanied my Dad and Mom to the creek bottom to watch as they helped a cow having trouble calving. This was my first time witnessing this and an incident I will never forget. It was freezing, bitter cold that late evening, and the cow was down to where she couldn’t be pushed or chased into a bam.

After pulling on the calf by hand to no avail, Dad tied the cow to a tree by the homs and tied another rope to the calf s front feet. He then tied the rope to the bumper of his fourdoor model A and proceeded to pull. After the calf hit the ground, he hurriedly cleaned it off the best he could and placed it in the back seat of the Model A beside me.

I can still see him carrying that calf into the house and placing it on the floor of their bedroom. That was the only room in our house that had a heater—a pot-bellied wood stove. He nibbed the calf down really well, covered it with a heavy blanket, and filled the stove with enough wood to last through the night.

In the morning, he knew that the calf needed milk. He went to the mother cow, which was still lying in the creek bed and proceeded to milk her, bringing that first milk into the house. It just happened that my sister, Virginia, was a baby at that time. If I’m not mistaken, they used her baby bottle and nipple to feed that calf.

Incidents like this happened to others all the time, but to a youngster like me, I’ll never forget “that picture.”