It’s pronounced “LEER-ee”

I never dreamed I’d be in the bucket of a moving tractor (literally), clutching a newborn fuzzy Highland calf, while her very unhappy mother chased us across the pasture. “Set up a calving pen” they said. Yeah. Right.

Ace and I were determined to do our part as cattle breeders. We had not been successful getting our very pregnant Highland cow, Finley, into the paddock close to the house that we had set up as the ‘calving pen.’ In fact, Finley had gone about as far from the house as possible – in the back of the back pasture – to have her baby. But it was February and on those cold nights the coyotes were active and loud! So we decided to take action. Our plan was simple: we’d carry the baby into the paddock and Finley would follow. But we realized she would probably follow more quickly and with more force than we could handle, so the plan evolved to using the tractor.

In a sequence of ill-judged decisions, I climbed into the bucket of the tractor (not kidding) and Ace bribed Finley with a scoop of grain while he snatched her baby and ran to hand her to me in the bucket. He jumped into the driver’s seat and away we went! I was thrilled and terrified, but mostly I WAS HOLDING A BABY COW!

We got the newborn to the pen and as predicted, Finley was in hot pursuit. She was less than pleased. Once they were both in the paddock, we secured the gate and were ready for a cozy evening with everyone safe and sound. But Finley had other plans. She hopped the fence and let us know in no uncertain terms that she needed her baby right now.

By this time it was dark and we were convinced that any amount of separation of mother and baby would lead to all kinds of problems (too much internet reading with not enough real-life experience), so after a few attempts to get Finley to come back into the paddock we relented. If Finley could talk, she wouldn’t have spoken to us for days.

She took the baby back up to the back pasture and I lay awake in bed listening to the coyotes. Around 3 am I put on my warm clothes and hiked up to find them. I squatted near where they were sleeping for a few hours as though I was going to keep them safe from predators. We all survived the night.

Highland calves registered with the American Highland Cattle Association typically follow a letter-of-the-year naming convention. The letter for that year, 2022, was L. This baby was the first pure Highland born on our farm. We were so excited to choose a name! We wanted to go full Scottish and, of course, use the L. I’m embarrassed to write that we had watched a show (it’s too naughty to recommend – lots of fast forwarding) called ‘Outlander’ that was partially set in 1700s Scotland. The character of Laoghaire on the show was an attractive villain, so once we realized she was a girl (it took a bit – see ‘Never Scroll‘), we went with it. It’s pronounced ‘LEER-ee’.

Our relationship with Laoghaire has always been like that night. She’s truly ‘the oldest’ – she has suffered through all of our new parent mistakes and gotten our undivided attention for years, whether she wanted it or not. Ironically, she lives in that very paddock now, completely content to be close to the house. She often stands at the gate waiting expectantly for scratches or apples or cookies and would definitely join the back porch crew if we’d let her!

Do any of your animals have names with a story behind them? Tell me in the comments.