We have a cow that Tom calls the Motherless Child. She is a two-year-old and we raised her on a bottle as her mother had mastitis right after she was born. We sold her mother right after she had her calf. We have Shorthorn cattle and they are on pasture all summer and winter. Motherless Child never has become part of the herd and I don’t think she feels like she is a cow.

Because she has never become part of the herd, she wanders by herself and has taken to slipping through the fence to find greener pastures.

Thankfully for us, those greener pastures have been right besides the pasture in the ditch. Tom finds Motherless Child waiting by the gate each morning to get back into the pasture. It is as if she has had enough of being alone and reluctantly wants get back with the herd. We have to sell her before she starts causing trouble. Right now she is just a gentle cow that hangs out in the ditch because the rest of the herd snubs her.

I have a friend whose cows are out a lot. My friend is older and spends his days on his riding lawn mower and driving around his pasture checking fences and making sure the cows are where they are supposed to be. Last winter, when the ground was frozen and he couldn't pound fence posts in the ground, he sat in his truck with the motor running, day after day to keep an eye on his cattle. He doesn't like to sell his cattle. I asked him once why he hung on to so many cows when he had a hard time keeping up with the fences. He likes to read a lot and said, "I was reading about the tribes in Africa and they determined their wealth by how many cattle each man had when they herded them around. The more cattle each man had, the more wealth. I don't have much money, but I feel like I have wealth like an African herder with how many cattle I have."

Makes sense to him. I have another neighbor who is dead now. He lived with his son. The two milked Holstein cows and the dad would not wave back at us when we would drive by their place. The father and son wore matching wide-bib overalls with blue work shirts and striped engineer hats pulled down low on their foreheads. The dad would glare at us long and hard when we drove by their place. The son waved when his father wasn't around, but did so turning his back to us. I asked another neighbor how he got along with these two.

"Oh the son is really a nice guy, but his dad is so ornery. One time my dad's Jersey cows got out and went into the ditch by their house. The dad herded my dad's cows into his barn and milked them and then herded them back to my dad's pasture. My dad hadn't even known his cows were out and couldn't figure out why they had no milk that night. The son stopped my dad on the road the next day and told him his dad had milked his cows dry," my neighbor said.

My neighbor said they never got along real well after that. I can see why.

Sheila Donnelly can be reached at 434-2233 or by e-mail at :mailto:newsroom@austindailyherald.com