7:00 a.m.
SLIM ODDS
Sometimes instinct is not enough
to find the weak and wobbly way
along her belly—her first calf
born too small licks her brisket
as she gently lifts each leg
around it with toe dancing grace.
A dramatic ballet at dusk, then
into the headlights as you coach
and urge them both under your breath
beside me. Silently I cheer
life’s perseverance, her murmuring,
her nosing and licking—these best
chance moments for slim odds,
a catharsis to a tragic dance
that will have to wait ‘til morning.
drycrikjournal 
Well, at least it’s on its feet!
Sophie
LikeLike
Our only contribution was to get it to its feet late yesterday evening. Stronger this a.m., enough to get up on its own, odds now improved to fifty-fifty. All instinct, ingrained habit – she’s a helluva mother for a first-calf heifer.
LikeLike
LOVE THIS SHOT! And your words “silently I cheer”……….beautiful
LikeLike
I hope the baby is ok!
LikeLike
So far, so good. I’ll check on them again midday when its a little warmer.
LikeLike
I have my fingers crossed. 😉
LikeLike
I feel relieved 900 miles east of you.
LikeLike
2:00 p.m. update: It’s a warm 77 degrees. Honeybees moved here ahead of the Dakota blizzard had found the calf’s eyes, nostrils and mouth in search of moisture, despite plenty of water at the hives. A spray mist of Vetericyn seems to have kept the bees off. Weak and dehydrated, Robbin and I got some water down it, then mixed some milk replacement in a bottle that it eagerly consumed. Part of the problem is that the calf is too short to reach the heifer’s udder easily, though she has been sucked. The heifer let us feed it without fighting us. Another bottle in the a.m. to augment its strength. Chances still fifty-fifty.
LikeLike