“Have you them fed?”

“I do indeed!” was my reply as I jogged past my father and up the stairs. It was New Year’s Eve and as usual, I’d finished the feeding in record time. It had become an unwritten rule, I did the feeding on 31 December, giving my father the evening off.

Party time

The animals had been taken care of and now I had other business: party time had arrived. Out came the good shirt, normally reserved for weddings, christenings and the Macra Rally. It was a beauty, a light shade of purple with a brilliant white collar and cuffs. What really made it was the dazzling set of John Deere cufflinks that accompanied it.

My good bootcut denim jeans were held aloft by my best belt. It had a buckle the size of an iPad and was worryingly at full stretch. Maybe some resolutions were needed regarding my expanding gut. Ah well, worry about that stuff tomorrow. I donned my brown shoes and doused myself in aftershave before carefully moulding my fringe into the shape. After five minutes of intense concentration it resembled a dungspike loader...perfect! I grabbed my coat and made for the front door.

“She’s a maniac, maaaaaaniac on the floor....” my phone began to buzz.

I checked the caller ID. Uh oh. Instantly a sick feeling welled up from my stomach.

“...Hello...”

The last birth of the year

The jack was maxed out. He was a brute. Both of us pushed against the handle with all of our might.

Click...click. Centimetre by centimetre he came. There was still life in his eyes, he was past the ribs and could at least draw in some sort of breath, but we needed to get him out, pronto. The cow bellowed under the strain.

“Don’t go down girl!” I shouted. But it was too late, down she went. Quickly we readjusted.

“Stay with me calf!” he was starting to give up. I cupped my hand over his mouth and blew up his nostril to encourage his lungs: My New Year’s kiss.

“Jack away Simey!” I shouted in between breaths.

The calf began to come, inch by inch now.

“That’s it, keep going...”

“I’m out of jack!” Simey shouted back. I looked down. Sure enough there was no room left.

Instead, the two of us grabbed the ropes and pulled for our lives.

My arms ached under the strain and a cocktail of sweat, shit and hair gel stung my eyes.

“Heave!”

Finally the pressure released, sending the two of us flying. He was out.

“Hang him, quick!” shouted Simey as we regained our feet. I hoisted the brute onto my shoulders and we hung him over the gate to drain any fluid from his lungs.

Simey chuckled as we regained our breath.

“You should’ve got changed lad!”

My brow furrowed.

“You did say urgent Simey! And you never said anything about a calving...”

He looked down at my now ruined shirt, pointing at my sleeve.

“You’ve lost a cufflink there lad!”

Goodness knows where that was!

Beep Beep! It was Simey’s watch.

“Midnight Francie...Happy New Year!” he exclaimed enthusiastically, tapping his new arrival on the belly.

“We’ll use an easy calver next year...”