Broken [In Revision 2023]

Chapter One - The Struggle (New Chapter 2022)

Caleb stretched to his tiptoes for extra leverage. Elbow deep into a heifer his fingers slipped from the soft cartilage of the calf's nose. He swore under his breath as the calf slipped back and undid the last five minutes of work. His muscles and tendons burned. He sighed heavily, giving him another inch of reach, enough to make purchase on the calf's nose. Closing his eyes, his fingers found the calf's nose. Gently he encouraged the head into the correct alignment and tucked it between the front legs.

He pulled on the legs, giving himself a safety net before attaching the ropes to the winch. The cow bellowed as he cranked. Slowly, inch by inch the calf moved towards freedom, towards life. With a rush of fluid, blood and mucus the calf dropped into the thick bed of straw.

Caleb removed the ropes and ratchet equipment to the edge of the pen out of the way. He knelt beside the calf and wiped the gunk from the animal's face. His fingers moved swiftly to draw the thick strings of jelly from the calf's airway. He grabbed a blade of straw and ticked the baby's nose. It sneezed twice, clearing its lungs of inhaled fluid. Grabbing handfuls of straw he rubbed it on the calf's chest, stimulating it to take deeper breaths.

The mother called her baby. She rolled her eyes as she fought the halter and rudimental crush formed by a battered cattle panel.

Caleb grabbed the iodine spray from the birthing bucket outside the pen. As he bent over to apply a liberal coating on the calf's navel, he realised that he was looking at yet another bull calf. His actions were a little rougher than he would have usually been, the disappointment quickly boiling into anger. Anger at nature, anger at the community that forbids him to use technology that would have reduced the percentage of bulls calved in the past five years. He threw the spray bottle back into the bucket.

He lifted the equipment over the bent top rail of the fence. The cow kicked out at the already battered and rusted panel pinning her against the wall. Carefully he untied the bailing twine and pulled the metalwork away. She drifted sideways towards him, pulling on her rope, her eyes wild. He yanked the quick-release knot and dived out of the way as she made a beeline for her calf.

Caleb tidied with one eye on the pair. The cow worked her sandpaper tongue over the calf cleaning him off. She had no idea that her year of effort was a disappointment to the family, that, unlike the cows, he would only remain on the farm until he reached processing weight.

Satisfied that all appeared to be well Caleb returned to his list of chores. He climbed the ladder up into the hayloft, skipping the third rung that would struggle to hold a child's weight, let alone his. The light in the loft had burned out last year, slithers of light crept through the weatherboarding and a halo of light beamed from the hatch hole. He dropped three bales below. A plume of hay dust rose, sending particles dancing in the still air. More dust ticked Caleb's nose as he shook out a couple of flakes in the chipped concrete trough that no longer held water. He stacked the other bales against the wall out of the way.

The calf rose on wobbly legs. He held it for a moment, before losing his balance and faceplanting into the straw. His ears flopped as he shook his head and made a second attempt.

Caleb laughed at the calf as he reeled in the hose. With his morning chores almost complete with the watering of the calf pens out back. His stepmother, Carmine, had already taken the milk into the house to be filtered and processed. He walked over to the slurry lagoon and peered inside, close to the limit, with a thick crust growing weeds at the edge. Digging out the solar generator, he plugged in the jerry-rigged motor and set the agitator into motion. He stayed near the setup until, at last, the lagoon looked fully incorporated like a rather disgusting cake batter.

He filled the tractor with biodiesel and loaded the bucket up with fencing supplies. After one last check on the new calf, to ensure it had found the milk, he set off for the bottom pasture. The rough track almost bounced him out of his seat, he had one hand in a death grip on the seat, while the other tried to steer out of the worst of the divots.