I had to pull a calf the other night.
Let’s start off by recognizing that I am no cowman. My herd, though diverse and ever-growing, is based rigorously on a sense of economy, sentiment and pure utility. We need cattle to work, and certain breeds are better for this than others – cheaper too. Occasionally, there are also some heifers and cows that I tend to love a little, and they get to stay.
Well, my week up to this point had been one of swings and dips, and though the specifics aren’t really important, I can say I was getting hung up on some things that felt like bigger deals than they were. It seems that every year when we enter our busy season (colts coming in to start), there are adjustments to be made. When the weather gets colder, darker and drier, and the holidays trickle upon us, I struggle with feeling like I’m doing all the things I need to do very well.
Anyway, I was riding my last horse of the day, feeling particularly heavy in thought and feelings as the night chill set in, and my phone rang. It was my husband, Luke. He had gone down the road to check the cows we have turned out at a lease place, and one of my favorite heifers (yes, she is loved and named) was attempting to calve. The calf was partially out, but it had a leg bent backward, and we were going to need to help get it out.
I loaded the mare I was on and saddled one other, threw ropes, dish soap and a child or two into the pickup and went down the road. We headed and heeled our spotted heifer at a walk, with some care and feel, tied her down and went to work. It was a taxing job, and there were several steps and lots of intervention to make it all happen safely and properly. At first, we thought we were too late, that the calf wasn’t alive. But once we got her repositioned and partially out, her eyes blinked, she started breathing, and my heart melted a bit. There was hope! My horses were good help, and so were my kids. When we finally got that big ol’ red calf out, it was clear why there had been so much trouble. She was a monster baby. Big head, big body and big bones. She was tired, and so was her mother, but everyone was alive.
I learned a lot that night. I learned how to rotate a calf and reach in and reposition a leg so that it could enter the world as God intended. I learned that cold, crisp winter air is irrelevant and non-existent when there’s a job that requires mental and physical dedication. I learned that sometimes, a fresh slap of perspective on a week that had dragged me down a little can bring me right back to where I need to be. Seeing that calf try for her life and being able to help her mother in a timely way effectively erased all of the negativity I had been carrying with me. Though it was a small moment in a great big world, I learned that even a little win can carry great importance.
And, I learned that even the spotted heifer who you love and feed, the same one whose life you saved, and just so happened to ALSO bring her big healthy baby into the world, will try to hook you the moment she gets back up.
