Calving Season

There’s one thing I’ve learned about calving season.

It’s impossible to explain to someone who hasn’t waited for it.

We had four calves this spring. Three heifers and one little bull calf born on May 4th, which meant he was almost immediately named Chewie.

And honestly, four feels just right for this year.

Small enough that every birth still feels personal. Small enough that I can already see the personalities beginning to emerge in the calves if I stand quietly long enough to watch.

Chewie is a current favorite picture so far this spring.

He’s dozing in the sun, his mama nearby, with the tip of his little tongue sticking out. Brand new life, entirely content and unaware of itself. The kind of moment that would be easy to miss if you weren’t looking for it.

But I am looking for it now.

I know what we’re doing is small.

But maybe significance and scale aren’t always the same thing.

Because when I look at these calves, I can’t help but feel like they represent something bigger than themselves. Not financially. Not operationally. Something quieter than that.

The cows pass along their genetics.
My family keeps stewarding the land.
And somehow those things become connected.

I think that’s what I love most about this place. It reminds me that meaningful things often grow slowly and repeat themselves year after year in ways that look ordinary from the outside.

Four calves probably doesn’t look like much to most people.

But standing in the pasture this spring, it feels like enough.