We used to name all the new calves. Not that we ever remembered the names when they grew up to be big milking cows, but going into the barn to see the new arrivals and naming them was an important part of our visits to the farm. I'm pretty sure I asked if there was a new calf to name every time we visited. Sometimes we would get to bottle feed them, and sometimes they would try to wrap their long, rough tongues around our fingers.
The adult cows were never neglected, as we would pull weeds and try to tempt them to come visit us at the fence at the edge of the pasture.
I can still call up that very distinctive "barn" smell. Musty, a little dusty, the scent of hay (and let's face it: the scent of manure.) But if I had to describe the scent in one word, that word would be "warm."