What they call ‘spring’ is really winter’s last stand.
Night as dark at the cattle we check.
Winds howl and whip across the pastures,
Cuts right through your coat and sting your face.
As we move those heavy gals to shelter.
With tingling fingers and tight rosy wind chapped cheeks,
The creak of cold gates as we move ‘em to the barn.
She was too close to leave, so we give her some space,
Sit a while, watch your breath rise in foggy clouds,
A new calf is born, and she goes to work, sigh of relief.
We’ll be back in an hour or two,
Need to thaw out; got other chores to do.
Come back to a calf, still wet and laying down,
Negligent mama not around,
Calf too weak to care,
Feed it its' first warm meal,
Bring him inside to take out the chill,
Care and monitor him all thru the night,
Only to find in the morning we had lost the fight.
Should have done this, should have done that,
Kicking yourself for leaving her to soon.
Sigh and shake your head,
That’s the way it goes sometimes,
The worry and work of half a year, dead at your feet.
But today is a new day,
Smile at the calves you have on the ground,
Be thankful for the life you lead.
Brave the elements, button your coat tight.
There will be more spring calves tonight
- by your's truly ;) EM