We recently lost our dear Tulip. She’s been with me my entire adulthood, a faithful reminder of my year in The Netherlands and reliable provider of high-quality pastured milk for our family. I brought her home as a calf at the end of my exchange student year in Holland. My parents weren’t pleased that my hideous Rotary blazer covered in pins from around the world wasn’t a sufficient souvenir, but what choice did they have? They certainly weren’t going to pay to fly a calf back across the Atlantic.
She was the cutest Holstein Friesian calf I’d ever seen. Remember City Slickers? Norman had nothing on Tulip, though he was responsible for inspiring my desire to own a calf in the first place. I came across her on a bike ride in Friesland. She was tied up to a tree and I immediately wanted to rescue her from a fate of veal. I made an offer, and come June 1996, she was mine to take home.
Tulip was the reason I learned to make cheese and always had an abundance of aged Gouda in the house. As much as we enjoy eating grass-fed beef, we couldn’t handle consuming Tulip. Instead, she rests among my garden beds and near the boys’ swingset, keeping us company even in death.
RIP, dear Tulip. We are thankful you were in our lives for so long and that even now we can keep you close.
We hope that the city of Seattle will soon recognize the importance of allowing cattle on home properties, so other families don’t have to hide their precious heifers from their neighbors and friends.