Disaster narrowly averted: We were in the barn petting the calves when Joy shouted, "My glove!" Where was her glove? "The calf ate it!" Low and behold I see the calf munching away. I hopped in the pen and reached in its mouth and could barely feel the glove. I somehow managed (with lots of fervent prayer) to dig the mitten out from halfway down it's throat. Yuck!
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