I knew it was there all along
I just came back from round 2 of night calving. This is where we drive around in a pickup equipped with a remote control spotlight and look for cows having trouble birthing or babies who have been abandoned.
It is cold, messy, dark, heart-breaking and enchanting all rolled up into one weed and dust infested outing. My neck hurts from bouncing over all of the bushes and bumps. And frozen cow shit, as well. I will try and get out and get some pictures. In my humble, ranch girl opinion, one can never have too many pictures of calves lying about.
As the boy and I snuck in a lunch time feeding with two of the leppies, one of the hardened old cowboys turned to me and said, "I used to love this time of year. I loved the babies and helping them and feeding them. Getting them to stand and to suck. I loved it and always thought of it as a 're-birth' and the earliest sign of spring. Then, one day, my boss said that, to him, 'it seems to more often than not, be a time of death' and I never looked at it the same way again."
For some reason, this sentence has stayed with me all day long. And the vague sense of displeasure has lingered in the back of my head, too. I just find it a bit too cynical and harsh. Especially when I'm looking at it with the wondrous eyes of a five year old cowboy who is so mightily enamored with it all.
The Prozac rolling through my veins is softly killing the cynical side of me, I fear.
It just... yes, there is death. On both ends. The mothers (we lost one due to a prolapsed uterus) as well as the babies. And the babies. God, they are so small and long-lashed. They are heart breaking to look at when they can't stand or can't even hold their heads up. We saw one tonight that will be dead in a few hours and it's mother just stood over it, calling out. And it is a time of death. But I think that although it is a time of death, it is also the polar opposite and is the birth of a new beginning.
I've known that death was there all along, but I choose to ignore it in favor of the living. They say that ignorance is bliss and I agree. I just couldn't look at those babies with the same adoration and glee I carried with me last night. Tonight, it a quick look of relief, a requisite glance to make sure all was right on my side of the pickup. Whereas, last night, it was cooing and oohing and aahhing over their cute little faces.
I feel just a tiny bit disillusioned tonight, although like I said 'I knew it was there all along'.
It is cold, messy, dark, heart-breaking and enchanting all rolled up into one weed and dust infested outing. My neck hurts from bouncing over all of the bushes and bumps. And frozen cow shit, as well. I will try and get out and get some pictures. In my humble, ranch girl opinion, one can never have too many pictures of calves lying about.
As the boy and I snuck in a lunch time feeding with two of the leppies, one of the hardened old cowboys turned to me and said, "I used to love this time of year. I loved the babies and helping them and feeding them. Getting them to stand and to suck. I loved it and always thought of it as a 're-birth' and the earliest sign of spring. Then, one day, my boss said that, to him, 'it seems to more often than not, be a time of death' and I never looked at it the same way again."
For some reason, this sentence has stayed with me all day long. And the vague sense of displeasure has lingered in the back of my head, too. I just find it a bit too cynical and harsh. Especially when I'm looking at it with the wondrous eyes of a five year old cowboy who is so mightily enamored with it all.
The Prozac rolling through my veins is softly killing the cynical side of me, I fear.
It just... yes, there is death. On both ends. The mothers (we lost one due to a prolapsed uterus) as well as the babies. And the babies. God, they are so small and long-lashed. They are heart breaking to look at when they can't stand or can't even hold their heads up. We saw one tonight that will be dead in a few hours and it's mother just stood over it, calling out. And it is a time of death. But I think that although it is a time of death, it is also the polar opposite and is the birth of a new beginning.
I've known that death was there all along, but I choose to ignore it in favor of the living. They say that ignorance is bliss and I agree. I just couldn't look at those babies with the same adoration and glee I carried with me last night. Tonight, it a quick look of relief, a requisite glance to make sure all was right on my side of the pickup. Whereas, last night, it was cooing and oohing and aahhing over their cute little faces.
I feel just a tiny bit disillusioned tonight, although like I said 'I knew it was there all along'.
posted by Lori | 9:50 PM
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