The farmer’s daughter is 7 years old, a high frequency impish thing, all pixie in high rubber boots covered with mud. She’s on a first name basis with every creature at the farm, has captured every wild heart, prances between horses, cows, dogs, chickens, taming the wariest with some child deep magic. Every evening she’s at the barn with her father at feeding time, and recently she lured me into her impatient waiting game for the birth of the new baby calf. A few days ago while mama ate, we caressed the full sphere of belly, gaped as the shape of gargantuan baby moved under our hands.
Full moon, just before dawn. I race to the barn as soon as I hear the news. Miss Pixie has already been here and gone – seems she’s absorbed the great event and moved on. I stand with the farmer at the pen where mother and daughter cozy. Baby stands up on shaky legs for a few minutes, takes me in with fearless intelligent eyes, then drops back into the hay for her nap. She’s a curly red haired beauty, too cute to behold; I’m bewitched. Baby names come to mind against my will. It’s been years since I’ve eaten veal, and now it will be impossible. I want to pick up this sleepy creature and put her in a cradle, take her home and put her in bed with me.
Mother is reading my thoughts, eyes me sternly, ok, Mother will have to come too…
My attention is drawn back to resident elf who is racing across a field, a pony following adoringly. Her father tells me she’s able to tame everything. The horses let her drag them around as if they were her servants. Even the bull has submitted to her charms. In fact, she’s the only person beside himself who is able to approach the bull and even pet him. I find it a bit odd that she’d choose a taciturn, introverted, dangerous bull over a cute baby calf. After all calves are so much prettier and closer to her size, like big baby dolls; I ask him if she names the calves, makes them her pets… He gives me one look, and I realize what an incredible dope I am, how much wisdom the Pixie has over me. Already she’s witnessed years of calves arriving in all their adorableness, and then departing in a matter of months. He didn’t have to warn her, she figured it out herself. This is farming with the most tender respect for animals and earth you can imagine. But it’s also business.
When this baby calf was born, she zoomed in close to get a good long look, then zoomed away. She’s already built in her protective mechanism. She ran to the horses who’ve been here for 20 years, and to the enormous bull who sticks around season after season, quiet, powerful, faithful.
