County Line Mini Cattle

02/19/2026

No horns visible.
No neck visible.
No thoughts visible.

Just ✨️ fluff and audacity ✨️

Tell me why they look like they would tell secrets about you to the chickens 🐔

02/18/2026

Maelee loving the beautiful weather and all the attention ☀️

02/14/2026

Confidence level: 100%
Coordination level: buffering...⏳️

01/27/2026

This is what a living, breathing hairy blanket looks like on a cold South Dakota day. Curled up, unbothered, and perfectly designed for the cold. No shelter drama here. No complaints. Just pure Highland resilience wrapped in fluff.😍

01/26/2026

Awesome Monday! It's still freezing out there! Good friends make it bearable!

01/24/2026

I might be freezing my face off while doing chores, but this girl is happy! Nevermind the barn door, it just adds more character I guess 🙄 Happy Saturday!

01/17/2026

Mac straws can now be purchased by contacting us, or purchasing them through The Highland Exchange!

* Convential Straws Only* Mac is a non-chondro, extremely docile and easy going homegrown bull. He is 41 inches to his topline. This exceptional bull consistenlty produces uniform, low-birth weight, eye-catching calves with outstanding hair, balanced frames, and excellent overall confirmation. His c...

01/12/2026

Coco reminds us daily that size is not a measure of significance. Enjoy your day!

12/24/2025

Happy Christmas Eve to you all, and wishing you the merriest, most joy-filled Christmas. May your homes be warm, your hearts be full, and this season bring you peace, laughter, and moments to cherish with the ones you love. 🎄✨

12/21/2025

Coco wasn’t about to miss a selfie opportunity 😁

11/16/2025

It’s time for a Maelee update—and trust me, every time I think I’ve run out of wild stories about this girl, another one comes back to me. As many of you remember, she surprised us all by arriving 43 days early. From that moment on, she became the center of gravity in our home. For three whole months, everything revolved around her tiny, stubborn little self.

Picture this: a miniature Highland calf… living in a kids’ plastic swimming pool… inside our house… fenced in with dog-pen panels like the world’s cutest makeshift NICU. She had more baths than our actual children, all taken in the family tub, followed by blowouts courtesy of my hair dryer. She was pampered, spoiled, medically fragile, and absolutely running the place.

Then came that night—the one I will never forget. Her breathing suddenly turned frighteningly labored. I called the vet, and the words I heard made my heart drop: “She probably won’t make it through the night.”

So I sat with her. All night. Petting her, praying over her, hoping she could somehow feel how desperately we needed her to stay. At one point I noticed a white chunk at the corner of her mouth. I wiped it away, confused—it wasn’t mucus. Something felt off. I looked closer and saw a glimpse of… something… deep in her throat.

I grabbed the longest tweezers we owned, took a deep breath I’m not sure I deserved, pinched the mystery object, closed my eyes, and pulled.

And suddenly—Maelee je**ed her head up, gasped a huge breath, and sat upright like nothing had happened.

We just stared at each other. Both of us shocked out of our minds.

Because I, apparently, had just saved her life…
…by extracting a Kleenex out of her throat.

A KLEENEX.
After all the medicine, baths, prayers, sleepless nights, careful feeding, carrying her around like a newborn—this tiny warrior almost met her maker because of a tissue. I cannot even express what went through my head in that moment. 😳

But she made it. And once she was stable, we began working every day to help her body build strength outside. Some days she lasted fifteen minutes in the fresh air, other days she made it a few hours. Then finally, in late August, her body and the weather decided to cooperate, and she graduated from “house calf” to “outdoor resident.”

She was not amused.

She looked at us with the betrayal of a toddler sent to preschool against her will. So to make peace, we clipped a long lead rope to her halter every day and let her run around outside her pen like the free-range diva she believes herself to be.

Most days, if you’re looking for her, you can find her laying right up against the front door (clearly hoping someone will let her back inside), or napping under the tree with the dog and cats, or wandering off to the bale pile for a mid-day snack. She greets every delivery driver with a smile. She has since made friends with the other calves, but she still comes to nap in the yard like she owns the place.

And honestly? She kind of does.

Maelee continues to flourish, thrive, and remind us daily that miracles don’t always look like what you expect…
…sometimes they look like a premature Highland calf who refuses to follow a single rule and once choked on a Kleenex.