A Lucky Farm Story

Tonight, while legions of revelers raise a glass of Irish cheer, I'd like to take you on a journey that begins with the wee miracle of a Welsh faerie cow. Gather 'round the hearth and snuggle in...

When first we followed the wind to our home in an enchanted valley, we offered our service to a strong farmer and his family of lovely daughters. In exchange, they gifted us with a white cow bearing red ears and a flowery name meaning "Luck". "She'll give you a fine milk cow next Summer," they said and we believed them.

One winter night in January, an unexpected Summer-like breeze blew over the ice-hardened ground, softening and whispering of things to come. In the morning, Jeff ran into the house calling, "There's a white calf in our field!" We threw on coats, pulled on boots, and rushed out. Yes indeed, there was a sturdy little speckled white calf in our pasture - her bright black eyes and obsidian silky ears cocked out just so. She spared us only a glace, then returned to trying to nurse...the horse!!!

Not just any horse, this is faerie story after all, but a wild red Mustang horse who had decided to let us love her. "No, no," we called, "You must drink from your cow Mama....Watch Out!!" Our gloriously proud Sierra mare was quite happy to foster the miracle baby and defended her right like the Iceni Queen of old. With such beginnings, our Zephyr grew up strong and stubborn - so full of vibrant life, she just couldn't wait to experience everything. And everywhere that Zephyr went, Sierra was sure to be watching, calling out encouragement or caution.

Right before Zephy's first calf was born, Sierra slipped on the ice and injured her hind badly. The vet sighed in the dark, cold night and told us that he couldn't hold out much hope. Under the bright stars, we covered her with sleeping bags, tucking straw beneath her huge, muscled frame, and waited. We sang and prayed, quietly shared stories, and told her how very grateful we were to have known her.

I suppose that should have been that, but Mustangs aren't built for quitting. I stepped away to fetch more straw from the barn. "You Are The Queen!", I heard Zoe shout. Turning, I saw mighty Sierra standing, shaking and spread-legged, defiant and alive. Quickly, I ran for more help and for the next hour and a half, four people on eight legs held up a beautiful red mare determined to walk back to her barn.

Weeks later, a still un-recovered Sierra watched over the stall fence as her foster-daughter gave birth to her first calf, and a few weeks after that, she let us say our final goodbyes. We buried Sierra at the highest point of our little farm, where she could watch over all.

When it came time for Zephyr's second calf to be born however, this wasn't close enough. In the cold winter night with a warm sweet breeze just beginning to blow, Zephyr left the barn. She walked up the hill to Sierra's grave and there gave birth to a beautiful speckled white calf. Jeff found them soon after, baby lying right on Sierra's spot, Zephyr lick lick licking him and calling - "Mmmmmmm, it's okay little one - Welcome to a world of love" just like her foster Mama taught her.

Tonight, we raise our glasses to Sierra and Zephyr, who taught us all that fierce and gentle are meant to be one.