February is the middle of winter. There is more snow
recorded in this month for Montana than any
other month of the year, the nights are below freezing and during the day the
weak sun barely wins the temperature contest against the bitter wind off the Rockies .
And yet February marks the start of lambing and calving on
the millions of acres of Montana
ranchland. A rancher’s year is tuned to this pastoral wheel. He knows that in February his nights will be
disrupted by the insistent alarm clock. At 2 am he will repeat his round of the
expectant cows in the birthing pasture.
The headlights of his powerful farm truck pick out the
delicate wisps of steam above the tiny mound as its mother pushes at it roughly
to move. If the calf does not stand soon on a night such as this he can freeze
solid within the hour. Nature is unforgiving to the weak, but at a thousand
dollars per calf, it is the rancher’s business to intervene if needed and get
the baby next to his mother where he will dry in her heat and find warm milk on
tap.
Flurries of snow speckle the damp wavy hair of the calf as
he shivers wobbling on bandy legs to struggle into his new life.
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