“Boards,” Ben said.
I grabbed the nearest one and pushed it across firmer ground while he worked beside the calf’s face, clearing away loose mud.
The little trunk twitched.
I had never been so grateful for such a small movement.
We called for additional support, then got to work with the equipment we had. Ben watched the calf’s position while I tested the bank with the shovel.
The surface looked solid in places. Beneath it, the earth gave way like thick batter.
We couldn’t simply walk in and pull.
We started from the edge, removing mud in careful sections.
The calf reacted to every sound. A shovel scraping a buried stone made him jerk. When I shifted a board, he tried to turn toward it, sinking one shoulder farther.
We paused until he stopped struggling.
Then we began again.
I kept talking because silence made it too easy to listen only to his breathing.
