We weaned our calves in October. It’s a transition period for the farm, a literal metamorphism as the juvenile animals prove themselves to be an independent entity. They were weaned, branded and weighed, and they entered the record as the baseline of our future herd. We are always hopeful that these animals will thrive, but like anything, there is no guarantee no matter how well we attempt to manage the variables.

When I worked in the dairy industry, we used to joke that Holstein calves come into the world looking for a way to die and that Jersey calves come into the world halfway dead. Even though I am a beef producer now, I retain my skepticism in the hours following birth.

My front window faces south, toward the highway. Between the house and the highway is a field they just chopped for corn silage. It was a strange year with a cold June and an early frost, and the corn didn’t yield as well as expected. I am sad about that, but I am glad to have my view back.