A Real-Life Fairytale

A young vet learns something never taught in school

"How the hell did you manage that last night?" Helga asked Old Momma.

Old Momma, limping badly on her left front hoof just looked at the young heifer. "You haven't been here long enough to know about it. You ain't been taught yet, but us cows can jump plenty high."

"Yeah, but over the moon?!"

"Optical illusion, baby girl. Once you calve, we'll teach you. It's actually pretty easy; but it hurts like gettin' bit by that damn cattle dog when you land wrong!"

"Hey, Old Momma," the farmer called from the barn. "Come on you old thing, let's find out why you ain't walkin' so good today."

Old Momma looked at Helga and snuffed. "He keeps calling me 'old,' I'm gonna give him sour milk!" She turned away and began to limp toward the barn, grumbling her bovine exasperation at the pain and the farmer himself.

@-----@-----@

"Oh, you don't mean it, Old Momma," the farmer soothed once she was up to the barn. He patted her flank and rubbed her. Old Momma liked the attention, and she knew the farmer wasn't really a bad human. Some of them, like the little boy he sometimes brought with him to milk— some of them she wanted to back-kick into the back forty!

She saw the vet come around the corner. It was that young smart-ass that thought he knew everything about cows and horses. Trouble was, he was as gentle as the damn tools he used. She bellowed her displeasure; she wanted the old guy, who talked to her, not just about her. He never trapped her in that damn cage that clamped down on her very often literally scared the shit out of her. He could poke and stick and jab her all he wanted, and she never kicked at him. He was a good ol' boy, and she was a good Old Momma.

The young vet took a step toward her and she took a step back. "Get on, ya little twerp," she grouched.

The veterinarian scowled and looked at the farmer. "Let's get her in the chute."

"Nooooo!" Old Momma protested.

The farmer smiled. "I don't think she likes that idea, doc."

"Well I don't like the idea of chasing her around; she'll hurt that hoof even more."

Momma considered this and stood still as the vet took another step toward her. "That's better. Let's see what we've got here."

She stamped her other foot when he manipulated the sore one. "Ouuuch!" she groaned.

The farmer patted her. "It's okay, old girl, it's okay."

Call me "old girl" again one more time today. I dare you, Old Momma thought.

"Looks like a hairline break up here in the leg." The little booger touched her leg where it hurt the most and she groaned. "I don't know how she managed it, but we'll stabilize it with some tape and she should be fine in a couple weeks."

He wrapped the tape around her, and the farmer patted her hindquarters. "You be careful, now Momma. Don't be roughhousin' out there." He chuckled, and Old Momma turned away to go find the heifer and keep an eye on her. First-time mothers always need a bit of help.

@-----@-----@

Two nights later, Helga went into labor.

"Mooooma! It huuuurts!" she cried into the night.

Why do they always do it at night when there's nobody around, Old Momma thought irritably.

"Ooooohhh!"

Momma watched her for a few minutes and determined there was something wrong. Something didn't smell right. She should have been able to smell calf's little hooves by now, but she couldn't. She began to call for help, too. It could be irritating in the middle of the night, but this is what she was here for; it was why the farmer called her "Old Momma" in the first place.

The farmer soon came clattering and roaring down the field in his infernal motor thing that smelled and sounded like a demon to Old Momma. He looked at Helga and came to the same conclusion Old Momma had: she was in distress. He took out his cell and called the vet.

The some young kid arrived fifteen agonizing minutes later, during which Helga had fallen on her side and couldn't stop bellowing in pain. He jammed his arms up inside the poor dear. (Momma had never liked this part even from the old vet.) He pulled out his chains and went to work, prying and pulling till the hooves started to breach. He might not be gentle, but he is good, Old Momma had to admit to herself.

The farmer, looking relieved, got into his grumbling motor cart and called to the vet that he needed to get some tool or other. Momma didn't care; she was focused on the calf now smoothly emerging from Helga's back end. When it began to cry it's thin, pitiful cry, Old Momma bellowed for joy.

Immediately on the heels of that, she and the young doctor heard dozens of bellows from down by the creek, by the south feeding trough. The vet went running, obviously thinking the worst. Old Momma chuckled, knowing right way what was happening. She looked across the strangely uneven field and watched.

Suddenly, the vet stopped and dropped his tools. He stared up the field to the trough still as stone with shock.

"They weren't just stories after all," he said in a voice as thin as the new calf's. "They really do jump over the moon." At which point, his knees buckled and he fainted.

When the farmer returned, he found Helga and the calf perfectly fine, and looked over at the prone doctor, shaking his head. He looked over at Momma and winked. "Guess he just ain't been taught yet how high you cows can really jump!"

They both laughed in their own ways as Old Momma licked the young doctor back to consciousness, thinking maybe he wouldn't turn out to be so bad after all.