Glory in the Straw

Something magical on Christmas Eve

Wouldn’t you know it! Christmas Eve and that cow had decided that it was time.

Signs of the birthing had come on around 4 P.M.

Supper had been hasty as Marj and Janet had to make it to the Church for pre-service preparations.

Ken put the cow in a separate and more spacious stall with fresh straw liberally spread. Benjy, the nine year old, said that he wanted to keep Dad company and observe the event. It would be his second. Rather squeamish last time.

Wind was picking up outside, as the two made their third half-hour check. She was on her side now. Some evidence of crowning. They would stay. Ken nodded to the boy to jack up the electric heater a notch.

Benjy registered that look which comes on a young man. Something of self-importance. Something of fear.

The girl wasn’t issuing a sound, although she swung her head up once and around as a contraction got serious.

“Look Son, the nose.”

It was introducing itself over forward-pointing legs. And then that remarkable flowing extrusion of pliable liquid life.

Out now. A male. Ken was quick to see the phlegm problem at the mouth:
“Listen Benjy, give me that piece of tube.” He probed the mouth and nasal passages. Still no breathing.

“Swing open the stall door and then step aside to that corner.”

The farmer approached the newborn from behind the back and lifted it, slippery as it was. In two strides he was at the gate and threw the sorry arrival across the top board. The shock to its midriff brought the first relieving grunt and gasp.

Gently now, Ken cradled the little one and placed it beside the head of its Mother for the licking and bonding to begin.

“Good job, Benjy. This one’s a beauty. Sorta feels like a manger, don’t it?”

He could see the Mother staring at him. Just for a second. Then she returned to her new charge.

“Good job, Girl.”