Instead, I had a shovel sinking into heavy mud while the animal beside me ran out of energy.
My arms began to shake.
I stopped long enough to flex my fingers, then went back to work.
Ben checked the calf again.
“Keep that channel open.”
Water carried loose mud into the trench. I scooped it out, scraping until the flow returned.
We tried another gentle pull.
One shoulder shifted.
For a second, I thought we had him.
Then the calf slipped back.
I swore under my breath.
Ben loosened the strap and looked across the bank, judging the ground, the distance, the equipment still lying beside the vehicle.
I knew that look.
We were reaching the limits of what we could do before more help arrived.
He reached toward his radio.
At that moment, something bumped the board beside my knee.
I looked down.
The calf’s foot had moved into the space we had cleared.
