‘I’ve got this, but that’s all that was in the box marked “chains”,’ Jess said, holding up a curved metal hook.
‘Brilliant, thanks,’ Laurel said.
She wrapped the chains just above the ankles (is that what cows have?) of the calf sticking out of the cow and hooked it together tightly. ‘Here you go.’ She handed Nate the end of the chain, fitted with a handle.
‘You’ll have to tell me when,’ he said, suddenly nervous. What if he couldn’t get the calf out? What if it went wrong?
Laurel winched the little hook onto the middle of the chain and looked up at him with a determined smile.
‘It’s coming out one way or another, Nate,’ she said. ‘Pull when I tell you to.’
Her forearm tensed as she pulled on her handle, leaning backwards to get more weight behind it. No movement, but the cow made some urgent, low noises.
‘Pull,’ she ground out and he shifted his weight and pulled, gently at first. ‘Harder than that, Nate,’ she urged, and he leaned backwards, arms tense. There was a slight slithering sound and the legs of the calf pulled further out, followed by a nose and a mouth.
‘Stop!’
Laurel swiped at the calf’s face with one hand, wiping amniotic fluid out of its nose and mouth.
‘Again.’
Laurel pulled and Nate followed suit, watching as the head popped out completely. Its eyes were closed and ears stuck back to his head, covered in slime, but it was amazing.
He pulled, straining on the chain, wondering belatedly if it hurt the poor calf’s legs. They continued like this for some minutes, starting and stopping, letting the cow do some of the work, trying not to damage her. Well, at least that’s what he assumed was happening.
Laurel didn’t say a lot more other than ‘pull’ and ‘stop’ and whispering sweet nothings to the mother.
The baby slithered out some more, shoulders now showing and Laurel dropped her hook completely.
‘Pull it downwards,’ she said, pointing to the ground. ‘That’s it,’ she said when he crouched down.
Was it going to flop out onto the floor? Surely that would hurt?
The calf’s chest was out now, and Laurel was pushing and turning it down towards the ground.
‘Turn your end too,’ she commanded. Alright.
With one last pull, the calf flopped out onto the damp hay of the stables and Nate fell backwards onto his arse, also onto the damp hay of the stables.
Laurel was on the calf quickly, making sure its face was clear of all gunk and rubbing it vigorously on the chest. She grabbed its legs and started working them back and forth, making sure that everything was moving, before dragging it around by its forelegs to the head of the cow. She bent its front legs and laid the head gently on it, and then deftly removed the makeshift harness around the cow’s head.
Mum started to lick the baby, and Laurel stood back, hands on hips, satisfied smile on her face.
Nate couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face as he sat there, watching the newborn calf. Helping Laurel made him feel so much more alive than he had felt in a long time.
Laurel
The birth had gone well. The heifer was licking the calf, the limbs all worked fine and besides it being the biggest goddamn calf Laurel had ever seen, mum and baby were doing well. She peeled the gloves off and held her hand out to Owen for the phone. The vet answered in three rings.
‘It’s Laurel Fletcher at the old Stapleton Farm,’ she said, unable to keep the smile out of her voice.
‘That sounds like a positive birth,’ the vet said, distressed horse noises in the background.
‘Yes, everything went well, thank you,’ Laurel frowned as one of the horses on the vet’s end of the line kicked something viciously. ‘I’ll let you go. You sound busy.’
‘Mum is licking? Joints movable?’ The vet ignored Laurel’s attempts to go.
‘Yes, to both,’ she said, very aware that she was standing in someone else’s stables with cow amniotic fluid all over her, bits of hay stuck to her knees, and she was not wearing a bra.
