By Lisa M. Belisle
Originally published June 20, 1995, Portland Press Herald

I witnessed a miracle recently. No, nothing of the supernatural sort. I saw the kind of miracle that happens every day. I watched a cow give birth. 

Cow birthing is not something our household experiences regularly. However, being the parents of a toddler, my husband and I have the perfect excuse to do things that we might not otherwise do. We watch Sesame Street on Saturday mornings, visit the Farmers’ Market in the summer and fall, and attend local craft and Christmas fairs. 

We also seek out farm animals, a favorite topic of children’s books. My child, while unable to say his name, can tell anyone who asks what a cow says. He definitely has his own agenda. Pigs, cows and horses are interesting. His name is not.

Because Portland proper has a marked scarcity of pigs, cows and horses, we must go elsewhere for our agricultural fix. One Saturday afternoon, we decided to visit Wolfe’s Neck Farm in Freeport. As we entered the barn, an excited employee told us that one of the cows was in labor.

At the far end of the building, a large group of people stood in hushed anticipation before a laboring cow. The crowd was a microcosm of Maine. Birkenstocked teens stood shoulder to shoulder with carefully groomed grandmothers. Jean-jacketed city dwellers shared space with L.L. Bean clad suburbanites. Children of every age held court, nestling in the arms of parents or scrambling over bales of hay.

The source of the crowd’s fascination was a panting, glassy-eyed beast. Kneeling in the recycled paper bedding, she had been laboring throughout the morning. Stepping closer to the wooden fence, we could make out the glistening amniotic membranes bulging from her hind quarters.

One of the farm managers stood off to the side. When he judged that birth was imminent, he casually strolled over to the cow and ruptured her amniotic sac.

Suddenly a set of nostrils appeared through the window of membranes. The crowd exclaimed softly. A thrill rose in my chest. Two dark hooves quickly followed the nose, as the cow began pushing in earnest. This continued for several minutes.

Then, with an ease that belied the cow’s efforts, a small black calf came sliding into the world. Grabbing her by the hind legs, the farmer briefly turned the 60-pound calf upside-down to clear her airways of fluid. WIth a rough gasp, she began to breathe. The crowd erupted in applause.

As a medical student (and mother) I have participated in many births. Still, I felt privileged to be present for the beginning of this life. Be it bovine or human, birth is amazing. So many things have to be exactly right — conception, gestation, labor, delivery. Although new lives are created every day, it’s a miraculous concept.

Oblivious to the miracle but relieved of her burden, the mother cow looked with interest at her progeny. The calf blinked uncertainly in the mid-afternoon light. Her mother proceeded to clean the calf’s shining fur of heat-sapping moisture. Her bath complete, the calf turned next to ambulation. Placing her knobby legs in front of her, she successfully lifted her head and chest. Her hind legs proved considerably more unwieldy.

Accompanied by the disappointed “ohs” of her audience, the calf elevated her rump in the air, only to topple forward into the hay. After several tries, the calf paused, as if to gather her strength. Then, with Herculean resolve, she launched herself to her feet. 

The crowd cheered; a standing ovation for baby’s first steps. It had been an amazing and inspiring day.