Growing up on the farm we learned quickly that every action could have a positive or negative reaction.

For most of my childhood we milked cows. At our peak we (meaning me, most of the time) milked eight cows. In order to have a milk cow you separate the calf from the cow so that it doesn’t drink all the milk on you. You then need to feed the calf from a bucket.

One particular summer, I was milking one cow which meant I cared for one calf. The calf was penned in the barn over night but after the morning milking and her feeding I would stake her outside so she could eat grass.

At the time my younger cousin, George, who was about six was camping at our house. He loved animals and was especially excited about this calf. He would spend most of the day with her. He brushed her and would lead her all over the farm.

One afternoon I was helping my Dad in the shop when George came running in. He came to tell us that the pigs had got out. Dad told George to tie the calf somewhere and come help.

It took about 20 minutes to get the pigs back in their pen. When we got back to the shop we noticed the calf was covered in oil. George had tied her near a bucket of used motor oil and she had drank a good bit of it.

My Dad is a very calm person and doesn’t waste time getting worked up about things that can’t be changed. He calmly told George that the calf might die since it drank a belly-full of used motor oil. Then went on to explain the importance of making sure you leave an animal in a safe place.

The whole time George sat on the ground crying, alternately hugging the calf and wiping the oil off its face with his white T-shirt. Not knowing what else to do Dad had George walk the calf  around.

George kept that calf walking until she was exhausted. Finally, we staked her back in the grass by the barn.

The next morning George was up early to check on the calf. He came back very excited – she had lived through the night and looked good as ever. When I went to do chores I had to agree with George. The calf was up and looking for her bucket of milk.

It appeared that the motor oil the calf had drank worked as a laxative. The area outside the barn was covered in sticky, small, black oil slicks. That calf pooped black for a couple of weeks before things started looking normal again. From that day on she was called Tar Baby.

She eventually grew up and lived a long, productive life on the farm as a range cow. She was the strangest cow, too. Out of the herd of 200 cows she was the only one that would come up to you for a scratch. Or if she didn’t feel like walking across the pasture she would just ‘moo’ at you.

Here are some other ‘My Crazy Family’ stories:

MCF – 3 – Skunk

MCF – 4 – When Turkeys could Fly

MCF – 5 – Goose For Dinner