My neighbor, Doreen, called to say she saw a lone calf standing in my field with no mother in sight.

I suspected a few circumstances had aligned to create this potentially deadly situation.

For a day or so, I had watched a 3-year-old cow following an older cow with a calf, trying to mother the calf.

I hoped the 3-year-old would love her own baby as soon as it appeared. That morning, the 3-year-old had not calved and gave no indication that she planned to calve any time soon.

Later, a bovine-confusing snow squall had moved through.

I found the cow and saw that yes, she had calved, but only the older calf was nearby.

Strike One.

I herded her away from the older calf, but she wanted to go back to it, with no desire to find her own baby.

Strike Two.

I decided to attempt to herd the calf to the cow. This is rarely a good idea. The calf’s instinct tells her to wait for her mother. But darkness was approaching and I figured I could bring a confused, hungry, shivering calf a half mile to her mama easier than I could herd a stubborn cow a half mile to her calf.

Besides, I had some yellow twine.

I would Sporleder the calf.

My neighbor, Don Sporleder, showed me how to loop a piece of twine around a lamb’s leg, hang on and let her run as long as she ran in the right direction. When she turned, I could stop her.

I rarely use this strategy on calves. But, fortunately, I had a piece of yellow twine in my pocket.

The calf and I made spurts of progress across the field until Bernadette figured out that my knee might produce milk. By now, I had named her Bernadette because I had a back-up plan. If Bernadette’s mother rejected her, my milk cow could adopt her. Maija gives 5 to 6 gallons of milk a day, plus feeds her calf, Bernardo.

Maija could share.

Bernadette wanted to follow my kneecaps so we walked backward until we came into sight of her mother.

Bernadette bawled.

Her mother looked up.

A good sign.

Then she lowered her head to graze.

Not a good sign.

Bernadette followed my kneecaps closer to her mother.

Her mother walked away, toward the older cow and calf.

Bernadette bawled again.

Both cows came running.

The young cow would not let Bernadette nurse.

Strike Three.

I culled deep into my herd last year because of the drought. I kept this young cow because she was a good mother to her first calf. I have a lot of money invested in her and I hoped she would be a good mother to many calves. Now she wasn’t doing her part. I was disappointed and mad at her for not doing her job.

I could bring this cow to the corral, squeeze her in the chute and force her to take her calf. I’m confident that she would. But what about next year?

I left to get the truck.

The two mothers and two babies circled one another in a tizzy.

When I came back, Bernadette was nursing on her mother’s udder. So was the other calf. Bernadette had to sneak up behind her own mother so she could steal milk.

I loaded her into the back of the truck.

I texted Doreen to thank her. Doreen and I don’t always see eye to eye, but she really helped me out this time.

At the barn, Bernadette chugged a bottle of colostrum that I had saved back when Maija had Bernardo.

Bernadette’s mother will experience the golden arches. After all, McDonald’s needs beef.

I can share.