We first saw him standing in the pasture, no more than ten minutes old.

But he was not alone.  On the contrary, the herd had moved in to protect the little one, guards in vigilant service to protect the least among them.

Yet we wondered where his mother was.  As each heifer approached the calf, they would sniff each other, and the youngster would try feeding from them.  And in response, each gently pushed him away while remaining nearby to protect him.

It didn’t take long to find the little guy’s mother.  She’d had twins and had moved some distance away with the second calf.

Cows aren’t very bright in the scheme of things, thus when one gives birth to more than one calf, they often don’t realize the firstborn is also their offspring.  Instead they bond with the last calf born, leaving the first to fend for itself.

So in the end, the young bull was abandoned by his mother, left alone in the big bad world, rejected only because he came first and she didn’t realize he was as much her child as the second twin she so carefully groomed and fed and protected.

There he lay, finally giving up on food and affection from the other cows, finally giving up on finding his mother, finally giving up.

What to do then?

Well, quite obviously we needed to take on the role his mother declined.  Hence I adopted him, became his Mr. Mom, and I’ve been tending to him since.

Today he’s five days old, and boy howdy is he full of personality and energy.

Oh.  I named him Bini.  It’s Latin and means “two at a time.”

[more of Bini’s adventures and progress in coming posts]