As soon as I got out of the car, I knew something was wrong. Mia was bleating with a desparation that mommas of every species understands. Something was wrong with the kids.
I slid across the yard, into the house, and changed into my barn clothes in a flash and headed to the barn. Mia was screaming, bleating, calling in the most heartbreaking manner. I couldn't walk fast enough. The snow was slush and I kept sliding one way and the next, all the while calling to her, "I'm coming, Mia!"
Everything bad was flashing through my mind; kids caught in the fence; kids missing (we have coyotes); kids drowned in the trough (they are too big now, but my heart wouldn't accept that fact).
As I crested the slope to the barn, I could see the problem.
Munk, all 20-inches and 5 pounds, and Copper, the yearling Dexter bull, were standing nose-to-nose. Mia let out a scream as Copper licked Munk spilling him head over teacups. Standing on the hay rack trough was Maisey, eager to avoid any bull licking, thank you very much.
I ran to the house for a camera, but when I got back to the barn, the kids were back with their momma and peace filled the yard. Both kids were none the worse for wear, however, Munk was sporting a true cowlick as he nestled his mother's bag for a comforting drink.