A week before we had the blizzard of 2011 and that day it was nearing 50 degrees. Our first warmish day of the year. The warm sun was bright and what a difference a few days can make.
I reached over and rubbed my BEB’s (brown eyed bossie) cheek. Her head was inches away from my lap.
After many attempts at delivering her calf she was lying flat out on her side, exhausted. She had been doing a great job pushing not knowing she was making the situation worse. Her body did what it was created to do. Farmer, three others and I had been trying to help. Her calf had his head twisted back and was getting caught in her hip bone. We finally had to call the vet. Everyone else moved on to other duties while waiting the 30 minutes for doc to come. I chose to sit and keep my girl company.
With every exhale she moaned a bit. I rubbed her cheek while talking softly to her, praying and wiping the tears from mine.
I leaned back against the gate and the fleece lined jacket I wore was just enough padding to make a comfortable seat back. My barn yard seat was soft from the bedding of shavings even though it was somewhat damp.
Within a few minutes of everyone leaving the area grew quiet. Slowly the barn became different like a scene change at a play without the curtain falling and rising. Instead of spotlights illuminating the stage I watched dust dance in the sun rays that cut across my view.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed three cats strolling toward me. They made their way between the legs of the other cows in the adjoining pen. They were a scraggly bunch. A bent ear, matted fur, gunked up eye and crooked tail completed the ensemble. The tough guys in the neighborhood that had staked and held their claim on the area. A cat gang.
They sauntered past my BEB and me and into the lot where the sun was not hindered by a roof.
I closed my eyes and listened to the music around me. The drip, drip, drip of snow melting. A slushing sound when a pile of snow slid off the roof ending in a splat. An off tempo clank here and there from the head gates where the cows were eating. A cough and a moo now and then from behind me in the lot blended harmoniously.
I inhaled the warmth of Spring. A mixture of dirt, manure, feed, shavings and melting snow reminded me of the season that was desperately trying to get a foothold.
Off to the left I heard Donald, our duck quack as he waddled the same path as the Cat gang. Closely behind him Tiny, the banty chicken, danced along.
They all ended up in the sunshine oblivious of my BEB and me. The gang sat with their eyes closed, Donald slopped through the melting rivulets and Tiny looked like he was trying to jump over the water and keep his feet on dry ground.
Meanwhile, the side of my leg had become warm and wet from her breathing. Her moaning lessened too as her body relaxed and rested.
There was something sacred about being a part of this secret world that takes place when all men are gone.
The vet eventually arrived and delivered the calf. My BEB was able to get up on her feet which was a good sign.
I was keenly aware of using my senses of smell, hearing, feeling and sight in an extraordinary way that day.
I brushed the shavings off my wet pants and sprayed my boots off before getting into the car. As I was heading home I felt as if I had just been given a special gift. Another gift of ordinary so worthy of celebration.
