Splay-footed mud-stumbling
lopsided-belly-rolling
                                  then
collapse.
Bloody-slit-oozing
sausage-casing-clinging
stretched flesh screaming.
Two hooves    too large    turned wrong    protruding.
Stroking her
I murmured meaningless encouragement
while she replied with shuddering groans.
Finally I squatted
grasped the thrust out limbs
and pulled.
They slithered through my hands like greased eels.
I thought of ropes.
I thought of winches.
I thought of neighbours.
A moan    horribly human decided me.
Cursing the cow too exhausted to push.
Willing the truculent calf into the open.
Ignoring the straining-panting-stranger that was me.
I leaned back heavily.
And the calf came.
Halfway -
a girl white-bellied
four teats like tiny fingertips.
'You're a fool,' I chided myself.
'You've wrenched your arms and killed the calf and now her mother may not live.
Why couldn't you call for help?'
But the calf was alive and kicked to remind me of my task.
So I grasped its slipperiness once again
and pulled...
...and the calf came out in a slimy rush.
I found the strength to heave it up
massage its body
clear the way for air.
And the calf stood up:
                                    weak 
                                    tottering
                                    wet
                                    shaking
                                    filling me with un-name-able joy.