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barton cole :: veni, vedi, vero scripsi

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# Monday, January 12, 2009
passing of a calf
I live in a little town, across the street from a pasture.  I was telling someone who had asked where I lived that I was on "Cemetery Road [our name for the road that leads to the graveyard], a few houses up from the corner."
"On which side of the street?" she asked.
"Well," I said, "since I'm not a cow, I must be on the left."
She was a bit put-off by my smart-alecky remark, but it was a silly question.
You get to know the cows.  When the apples are ripe, we'll toss windfalls over the fence - "Hey - want to see a stampede?"
There has been a black cow standing in attendance over her black calf, who has had some challenges.  It's a small, new guy, but one day a week or so ago, I saw it just laying next to the fence that divides the pasture, and by the end of the day, I was concerned that it was even alive, since I hadn't seen it move all day.
It showed up elsewhere, so it was somewhat mobile, but two nights ago, its mother was bellowing, and keeping it up for hours, all night.
Yesterday, there was activity at the gate; Jans, the farmer, had driven his truck into the pasture, and so had another large truck; I heard Jans holler from across the field, "You don't have to close the gate, Doctor…" so the vet had arrived.
I was working on cleaning out the truck at the time, so was outside when this was happening.
I was curious about the activity - three trucks were across the pasture, parked side-by-side, next to the calf.  
Soon, the vet was driving away.  I figured that was either a good sign, or a bad one.  
I looked out across the pasture and saw that Jans had moved his truck, apparently, so he was parked next to the calf, and facing north - it had been south before.  I saw the calf making some motions, as if it were trying to get up, and looked away.  Went back to work on the truck.
A few minutes later, he came driving across the pasture and had parked his truck across the road from his fence.  He was over to close the gate.
I went out to see what was going on.
"Hey," I said, "my guess is that you fellows were attending to the calf?  We'd noticed its mother bellowing all night…"
"Yeah," he said, "the vet was here…"
"Is everything okay with it?"
"No, it's dead."
By this time, I had approached close enough to see that he was upset by it.
"I'm sorry," I told him.
"That calf was born on December 16th, and it's never been right," he said. I mentioned that I had seen it most days just laying in one spot all day.
"It had septic arthritis in both front legs," he said.  
"I had to knock it on the head."
I realized that I had witnessed some of its death throes - and that Jans had likely parked his truck next to it to obscure his deed from view of the houses across the road.
"I'm awfully sorry," I said.
"Well, the only bright side, if there is a bright side at all, is that it was a bull, and not a heifer - they're going to be my replacement cows in a few years…"
I thought about the cows there now, some of whom I feel close to, recognizing from afar, designating thrown apples for…
"I had five black calves, now I have four."
Meanwhile, I had helped him get the gate back on the two pegs, lined up like hinges.  "You ought to try to do one of these yourself," he said, unaware that I may be a bohemian, but I know my way around farm work.
I reached out and shook his hand - the hand that had raised a hammer to strike the calf  - I felt compelled to take some of the energy away with me, so it wasn't all his…?
"What's your name again?" he asked.
"I'm Barton Cole, I live right here," I said, gesturing at my little house.
"Yeah, I know where you live, I'm just real bad with names," he said.
"That's okay - I can keep track for both of us," I said, which has become my stock thing to say when someone says that.
"If you ever need anything, here I am," I said.  "Just let me know what I can do to help you out."
A couple of times during our conversation, I had glanced at his truck; the dead calf was in the back, but I couldn't see it.
A bit later, I heard the ravens over at the corner of his land; no doubt something had come their way, too.

Sunday, January 11, 2009 8:50:34 PM (Pacific Standard Time, UTC-08:00)
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