154

It had been lamed at
            Some point during the night
                        In the foreleg and it was
Half-lying and struggling up
            From the bank of the ditch
                        Below the fence in the mud
Of the end of the pasture.
            It would stumble up and then
                        Lose purchase in the soil
And have to put weight
            On the leg and slide
                        Back down in its own track.
There was blood darkening
            On its leg and smeared
                        In the cold dew on the grass.
It was big, though still a
            Calf, and its ragged fat was
                        Shuddering as it moved.
Gouts of its breath in the
            Harsh air misted visibly
                        Like shalecoloured flowers.
I stared at it trying hard
            To think how it had
                        Happened and what to do.
In the end I ran back and
            Brought Silas and pa,
                        And we blinded it with a
Hessian sack over the head,
            Bound the leg and hauled it
                        Out, bellowing like a walrus.