BEFORE I MOVED to the country, all I knew about cows was that they made milk and tasted good in a bun. Oh, I'd see the odd cluster of cows in a field as I cruised along the highway. They were part of the scenery, like a beautiful sunset or a bright yellow field of canola. My ideas about cows changed the day I dropped in to see my neighbour Donna, smack-dab in the middle of calving season. There was a whole lot of bellowing coming from the barn and when I saw her, I knew why. Donna lay sprawled beside a heaving Hereford, one arm buried up to the shoulder in the birth canal. "Mark," she said, "get over here and bring me those chains." Looking down, I saw two spindly legs and a head sticking out the cow's back end. Suddenly, I felt queasy and began to sweat. Donna glanced up at me, her expression half annoyed and half amused. "You city boys! Be sick later. I need those obstetrical chains now!" They were in a kit just beyond her reach. I shook off my nausea and found them. "This little one's stuck at the shoulders. We're going to have to help momma a bit." The cow was breathing hard, rocking Donna with every breath. With her free hand and my trembling two, we secured the chains around the calf's front legs. "All right now, Mark, get a firm foothold and when I say pull, you pull nice and easy. Got it?" Donna looked over to make sure I understood. "Hold on a second," I said, reaching for a pair of gloves nearby. "Traction," I said with a grin. Donna rolled her eyes. Perspiration beaded her brow. "Are we ready now?" I planted my feet against a post and gripped the chains. "On a count of three," she said. "One, two ... ." On three, I pulled and watched in amazement as the calf inched its way out. Donna worked the shoulders free and guided it through the birth canal. I was still pulling when the little gaffer finally slipped out. It landed between my legs, covering me with birth goop. "Good job, City Boy!" Donna gave an exhausted laugh as we removed the chains and dried the newborn heifer with an old towel. Then the cow got up. I didn't like the look in her eyes. Donna saw it too. "Watch out, she's motherly!" As the half-ton bovine lunged at me, I scrambled over the side of the stall. "So that's all the thanks we get?" I said, catching my breath. "Some cows are like that, and some don't care at all." Donna closed the gate. "How about some coffee?" "I should get home," I replied. My jeans were soaked and I was cold. "You're welcome anytime, Mark. I'll be pulling calves for quite awhile." Donna smiled as she wiped her hands on her overalls. I was barely in the door at home when my wife, Jackie, stopped me with an upturned hand. "Yuck, what happened to you?" I told her the whole incredible story. "You know, I bet I'd make a pretty good obstetrician," I concluded. Jackie raised her eyebrows and stifled a laugh. "Sure, Mark. You'd be just awesome with those chains!" - MARK BEHREND