What did you do today?

Yesterday morning started so typical. Started the coffee pot. Checked email and news headlines. Fed cows and released dogs from the pen. Ate breakfast. Headed to the in-laws in my pajamas to shower (another story entirely).

But, as soon as I pulled up there in our irrigator truck, Brandon was headed out to the cows. He had received a call from his dad's employee saying we had a calf born sometime that morning that was probably already dead.

And, of course, it's one of our Brahman cows. With a purebred Brahman calf. So the three of us head out to take a look. Yes, still in my pajamas.

When we get there, the calf is surely near frozen and approaching death. You see, the night before was by far the coldest night we've had all winter (which began last week). This morning was the first time we woke up to a blanket of thick, icy frost covering everything. And, the morning this cow decides to give birth.

But there were just the slightest signs of life. Its eyes were open, and it seemed to be breathing okay. Just, like I said, near frozen. Motionless. So I retrieved the pickup, we shooed away the crazy, protective cow, and Brandon lifted the calf onto the tailgate.

It was so frozen, its head didn't even hang down when he lifted it up by the legs. Its neck stayed completely stiff. Brandon described it as more like picking up a board than something that was supposed to be alive.

This is when we find out our nearly dead calf is a heifer. A purebred Brahman heifer. Which is probably the only reason the subsequent events occurred.

On our drive from the pasture, I asked Brandon what he thought the chances of survival were.

"About three percent," he said.

"Really? I was thinking more like one percent."

We both agree it's best to be as pessimistic as possible in situations like this with animals.

As Brandon says, "That way, if it does work out, you can be pleasantly surprised with a good outcome, instead of disappointed with the likely one."

The only place we thought we could take her where we could really get her warm - quick - was inside. So, into Brandon's parents' laundry room we went with our frozen calf.

[It was probably a good thing my in-laws were out of town. Although, now that I'm posting this to the World Wide Web, it doesn't matter all that much.]

We gathered some old towels (which have now been properly washed and sanitized, promise) and a blow dryer. We both went to town rubbing this calf down with the towels (her two back legs were still soaking wet) and concentrating the blow dryer on her head, neck and belly.

Brandon was called away to load a hay truck, and I was left alone with a dying calf.

When he returned, I was still at it with the blow dryer and rubbing, and had added my socks to her hind legs. I knew humans released most of their heat through their heads and feet, so I figured if there was even the slightest chance animals were the same, I could sacrifice my socks.

Of course, Brandon got a good laugh and wanted to know what in the world I was thinking when he walked back in.

Whatever it was, it worked. When Brandon came back, he increased the chance of survival to 25%. He also informed me I had been working on this calf for two hours. Time flies when you're saving lives, I tell you.

Brandon retrieved a space heater, and we got a couple more old towels to wrap around her.

And finally, after more than three hours, she began to shiver. The first sign of her body actually trying to warm itself. The inside of her mouth and her breath was still ice cold. This was seriously a frozen calf when we found her, y'all. We just thawed her out.

At some point in this ordeal, I asked Brandon if he thought the cow would even take her back after all this.

"I'm not sure, but from what we found this morning, a bottle baby would be a great problem to have."

Agreed.

Somewhere between four and five hours, she actually sat up. This is when we started letting ourselves get excited. Brandon increased her prognosis again to 75% survival. Quite an accomplishment from the one to three percent we originally guessed.

Since she was finally upright, Brandon headed out to milk the cow. We weren't sure how much energy this little heifer had left in her after such a warm welcome to the world. I stayed with the calf and our trusty little blow dryer.

And this began a whole new battle. But, not a battle we even thought we would reach in the beginning.

In Round One of the feeding attempts, Brandon ending up spilling more on her than getting it in. What little pressure she was placing on the bottle was more of a chewing action than sucking. Needless to say, it didn't work out so well.

At this point, she had been sitting up for around an hour, so we decided it was time to transfer her outside. Brandon carried her to the back yard, then had to go load another hay truck.

Before he left, he said, "I think we're looking at a 90% situation now. 95% if we get all this milk in her."

So there I was again. Only this time, left alone with a very much alive calf, rather than a very much dead one. And a Mason jar full of cow milk I had to get down a calf that didn't know how to drink. Lovely.

That's where I spent the afternoon. Hanging out in the grass with a calf and a bottle. I just kept shoving it in her mouth every five minutes or so, and somehow managed to get about one-third of the stuff down her throat.

Once a good two hours had passed, she stood for the first time. After many nosedives into the ground, her back legs finally held steady enough for an entire 75 seconds.

I guess she liked the feeling, though, because she kept at it for the next half an hour. Finally, she stood again. And took a few steps. Backwards.

By the time Brandon came back, she had successfully walked about ten feet backwards. Not a single step forward. Still wobbly.

Then, as he approached, she took off, and nearly ran to both of us.

Brandon said, "At this point, I'd say there's a five percent or less chance she dies."

We still had quite a bit to go on the milk, but a standing calf is much easier to work with.

After a few unsuccessful attempts on both our parts, we decided to have Brandon hold the bottle while I kept a finger in her mouth and squeezed the nipple. This was the feeding method for a couple minutes, until she suddenly caught on to the whole sucking concept. I got my fingers out just in time, and she went to town on that bottle.

When it was sucked dry, she started ramming her nose into both of us.

"It's time to take her to the cow," Brandon said.

This was the moment of truth. Now that we had a live calf, we either had to get her back on the cow, or we (which really means I) were going to be making bottles several times a day for the next few months. Obviously not a desirable outcome (but more desirable than a dead calf).

We slid her into the pen, and the cow immediately took over. The problem? The calf wanted nothing to do with her. When Brandon started walking away (he had been holding the bottle when she caught on), she tried to climb through the fence to follow him.

One hour later, we had all the other cattle fed, and it was already getting rather cool out. Sure enough, our calf was already shivering and still not taking to the cow all that much.

So we loaded the cow in the chute to teach the calf how to nurse. Eventually, she figured out the milk came from the back legs, and we were in business. We ended up loading both of them into the trailer for the night in attempt to block some of the cold night air and keep them in a more confined area where the calf might stay closer to cow (she still liked us more).

As Brandon said, "After spending all day bringing her back to life, the last thing we want is to lose her now. We're taking all precautions."

And that's where we're left this morning.

When we had reached about a 75% survival rate, I told Brandon, "You know, if this thing really lives, it makes me want to call everyone I know and say, 'I brought a 98% frozen calf back to life. What did you do today?'"

Right before bed last night, Brandon told me this calf was the closest he had ever had one come to death and survive. "It was as near dead as I've ever seen when we got to it. I don't think I've even had one half that dead survive."

...Which also made me beat my chest a little.

And now we're off to make sure she survived the night!