Every now and then Shawna Duvall Hartshorn writes something so poetic and insightful, I feel a desperate need to share it. This morning’s message about the storm, and the Big Red Tag Cow, is such a piece.
I’m always blessed by her love of the land and the animals. A joy we share, in word, if not in deed.
Surreal, isn’t it? In seven days time we went from 65 degree weather to two feet of snow, four foot drifts, then melted muck back to 65 degree weather. I never callous to the hurt of the lost life. Only three cows dead and the dead calf count is unknown, maybe 5-10. Yesterday I doctored a 14 year old cow that had drifted ten miles and almost made it back to her pasture before wearing out. She settled down in a lush green bar ditch to rest, too weak to stand. She has fresh melt stream running past her so her location is good, I hope, for recuperation. I know this cow. No name, just “the red tag cow”. The last cow on our place with my dad’s brand and ours. The last group we bought from him. Her sisters aged out of the herd a few years back. Somehow she missed the cull pen. She is that cow that never looks her age, holds her condition, rebreeds every year, good disposition. She stayed calm while I IV dripped what I hope will be enough vitamins to boost her strength. I watch her calf wiggle and squirm inside of her. To lose her is to lose the little guy safely tucked away, protected from last week’s storm. Red Tag is tired. And so am I.
God bless the Red Tag Cow, and Shawna Duvall Hartshorn for sharing this momentous moment on the prairies of Eastern Colorado.
To inspire and comfort?
Sharing insights from Barry Ward –