Never underestimate the value of teamwork.

It was a busy morning on the farm and the head honcho had to take his son to a basketball tournament. My eldest son was at the neighbor’s unloading hay and the remainder of chores was left to me and my daughter.

Thinking it would be a cinch, I asked her to do the breakfast dishes and I would do the chores, and then we would head south to watch some basketball. I fed the cows, cleaned the gutters and swept – all the usual duties after breakfast. I was about to go spread the manure when I remembered Katie.

She had been in labor for a little while and when the vet left after pregnancy checking a couple of the neighbor’s heifers, I assured him I could handle the labor and delivery for this expectant mom.
I looked her over and then decided to get a couple of breeding sleeves on and check things out. When I reached in, I felt a pair of feet that could’ve belonged to Babe the Blue Ox, and I knew I was in for a long labor.

After preparing the calf and cow for delivery, I began to assist Mom in her efforts. She’d push, I’d pull, she’d push, I’d pull … she’d push, I’d pull. We were making little progress, so I decided to change strategies and call a neighbor.

The neighbor answered, but was at least 30 minutes away from being able to help. I continued to pull while Katie pushed and at one point, I thought I was in labor – I was certainly sweating enough. I knew the calf was stressed by now – we’d been at this process for what seemed like an hour, and I had to have some help, so I called my daughter, Sarah.

Quite honestly, I didn’t think we had a prayer in saving the calf, but at least I would know that I tried everything and the loss wouldn’t be for lack of effort on our part. I also had no faith that Sarah would make any difference, but since there was no one else, I had to have her.

She came right out and I told her exactly what to do. Coaching the cow, coaching Sarah and praying the whole time, I was exhausted and hopelessness began to creep in.

I tried one more thing and when I did, I felt the ease of the calf immediately. It was coming and the light at the end of the tunnel was shining in our eyes.

One last tug and this gigantic bull calf came sliding out; all I could do was thank God. I began to wipe up his nose and rub his body. Together, Sarah and I pulled him up to his mama and she began her duties of keeping the calf alive.

Sweaty, sore, tired and extremely jubilant, I told Sarah she did a great job and that I couldn’t have delivered that calf without her.
As I pulled the tractor out to go spread manure, I thought about the importance of teamwork. I also thought about how wrong I was to underestimate the value of my daughter’s contribution. 
I talk excessively about farm kids and how great they are, but let’s give credit where credit’s due: There isn’t another girl in Sarah’s class who would’ve rolled up her sleeves and given the performance she did that day. Not only because they wouldn’t have had the knowledge or experience or the realization of how important that bull calf was to our family business, but I question if they would’ve gotten that dirty.

Teamwork is invaluable these days. There is no substitute for it anywhere, especially on the family farm.

Readers with questions or comments for Melissa Hart may write to her in care of this publication.