An Incredible Life

(Published September 10,2025)

Dani (Mary's daughter): 
Shortly after my arrival at Crane Dance this summer, one of the very first calls from the pasture happened. 

Farmer Colton noticed that a calf had been born, which is always exciting news, but this time there was cause for concern. 

A lone tree far off near the edge of a field has become known over time as "the birthing tree," because cows consistently venture that way to give birth. This is where the new calf and mom were found. However, the calf didn't have the strength that healthy calves normally exhibit.

It appeared the extreme heat of the early summer was too much for the newborn.

The farmers sprang into action and moved the calf and mom to a field near the farmhouse so that close and frequent care and observation could be had.

The calf needed to begin nursing right away; the first hours are crucial for receiving the life-giving nutrients and immunity in colostrum. Born with no natural defenses, a calf depends on this first milk for vital antibodies and energy, and if it misses that short window, the protection is lost and the calf is left vulnerable and unable to thrive.

The calf couldn't walk on his own, and the afternoon sun was still dangerously hot. In the pic above, Jill is helping the calf get to shade. Mary and I brought over towels and cold water buckets.

The mom stayed close to her calf, keeping anyone at a careful distance.  It took much patience and Jill's steady presence before the mom seemed to sense that we were there to help. Jill gently draped the cold, water-soaked towels over the calf, continuing to replace them once they warmed.

This process took hours. 

All the while, as Jill and Mary continued to observe and work with the mom and her calf, I found myself in a state of observation as well.

I was observing the farmers.

In the context of hundreds of other animals on the farm, nothing distracted the farmers' attention from this one mom and her calf ~ not the oppressive heat, the exhaustion from a long day's work, or the endless list of tasks waiting to be done.

In a world where the present moment is an elusive notion at best, these farmers were literally immersed in it.

I watched Jill move with the mom; locked into her energy and attuned to the smallest signals of communication.

I knew I was witnessing a type of knowing that comes not from books or research or training but from years spent in respectful presence with animals; learning their cues, allowing them to guide the interaction in their own way, their own timing. 

After a few days of bottle feeding and close watch, the calf began nursing and gaining strength, and we delighted when catching sight of him from across the field running playfully with other calves.

What I observed during this experience at the beginning of summer demonstrated the humane handling that was consistent in every situation I saw or have ever seen on the farm.

Observing and caring for animals is a hands-on, attentive practice. The farmers know each animal, notice the subtle changes, and respond quickly and skillfully to their needs.

If only all livestock animals had this kind of attention and care. 

Maybe it was the intense heat that particular day or the incredible patience required of the farmers in attuning to the mom and calf, but I found myself wondering how the farmers do it.

No matter the weather or time of day, the farmers are out there, being called by the animals in whatever state of need. Without hesitation, the call is honored.

On that day, my mind reflected on the agreement Jill and Mary made with the cranes so long ago.

I thought of the covenant of reciprocity that infuses the spirit of the farm.

I thought of the communication that is possible between humans and animals byway of immersive presence ~ and how beautiful and validating this relationship is for both.

And I thought of how special this farm is and how privileged and proud I feel to share even little glimpses of its story through these newsletters.

And then my final thought: these animals' lives eventually come to an end. In the end, they take part in "the honorable exchange", and we are nourished by the life of freedom they lived on this farm. 

There is always struggle with this last thought, but it occurred to me that what I want, in my own final hours, is to be able to say: What an incredible life it has been! I realize this is what the animals at Crane Dance are given ~ an incredible life.

Thank you, mom and Jill, for all you do and for the agreement you made long ago with the cranes, the land, and animals ~ to care for one another. 

As we all, in each of our lives, do what we can to answer the calls of a hurting world, I'm always reminded during my stays at Crane Dance just how much difference it can make.