I keep thinking about calving season. I am thinking about the amazing appearance of life in the particular form of a red calf. What an event, your greeting to life being the earth rising up to hit you as you tumble out of your mother’s trembling hindquarters. Your imperative, which you know absolutely in your bones is to struggle to your feet. You will stretch yourself out after the months of curled confinement, slicked fur finding its way to nubs and swirls. You will lift your head, center your feet and let out the first blaring note of your existence, wondering, angry, insistant.