“A real father is there for any child who needs him, not just his own…”

—Unknown

Today’s story is from Reade.

Another freezing winter in small town Britton, Michigan. Another pregnant cow, ready for birth. But it was different this time. Dad yanked and tugged. He tried hard to coax her into the barn. She wouldn’t budge.

Dad, Bob, and his granddaughters

He even went back out late into the night. Mom was in labor. But she wouldn’t move. Shivering, exhausted, Dad retreated for a few hours sleep, praying she would hold ‘til morning. No such luck.

He was up before daylight, but it was too late. Frozen. Shaking. Barely alive. The mother left her baby for dead. Natural instinct.

My dad’s natural instinct? He didn’t hesitate. He heaved up all 50 pounds of that slimy, wet calf. He sprinted 300 yards, straight back to the house… a dying calf would not survive in the barn.

Dad laid it down next to the wood-burning stove. He covered it with every blanket in the house. The calf was too weak to feed from a bottle, so dad nursed it for two days with a feeding tube. Not an easy task for those who know.

He might not make it, Dad thought. He went to bed mournful that night, preparing for the worst. “Baaaaaa! Baaaaaaaaa!” 3:00 AM. An ear-piercing shriek shot him out of his sleep! Dad rushed to the family room… A heartwarming sight. The magic of life.

Dad feeding his cows Red & Lisa

Trembling. The orange stove glow shining on its matted fur. A blanket stuck to its side. Dad stared at the calf. Bewildered, that calf stared right back at dad.

“Troy,” Dad said with a chuckle (remembering the feeding tubes had come from his nearby farmer friend, Troy). “Troy it is…” Dad let out a sigh, though fully aware of the challenge ahead. The mother would need to accept the calf again.

He began the process the next morning, and it continued all day. The mother protested, repeatedly shunning her own calf from the herd. But Dad’s will was unyielding.

Day 2. Even worse. The mother physically pushed the calf away. Dad sat inside sipping his traditional soup for lunch, while little Troy tried to make lunch of the newspaper.

What to do? I certainly can’t raise a cow in the house, he thought. Two more days in the field. Two more nights by the stove.

Dad was distressed, but just like that mother cow, it was now dad who wouldn’t budge. Little Troy was going to reunite with his mom. Dad wouldn’t relent. And on the following day… Mother Nature finally agreed.

Bob feeding the turkeys, granddaughter in his arms

Mom “moooooed” and began licking little Troy almost instantly. An emotional reunion for dad, too. After five days, countless hours, feeding tubes, ruined blankets, and a few unmentionable carpet stains… Troy was back with mom.

Was it worth it for my Dad? Well, Troy (or TJ, as he affectionately calls him now) still races to the fence every morning when he sees Dad walk out of the house. He doesn’t forget. My dad didn’t just see a calf fighting for life. He saw a “kid” who needed his help.

Growing up, he was the only dad who asked my friends about school, sports, and life. They all looked up to him. My dad was like everyone’s dad. Me. My brothers. My friends. And now, TJ the calf.

Time and time again, my father has demonstrated one of the most valuable lessons for any dad…

“A real father is there for any child who needs him, not just his own…”

I love you dad. Tell TJ I’ll be home soon to visit.
Love, Reade