Paul was riding May and turned to the right onto the main road beside the farmhouse. He looked across to the far side of the fenced pasture and knew one calf was dead, and the rest of the small herd was in the wet alfalfa.

“Hup!” he yelled, and he was a full gallop. May’s ears were forward, and her head was high as she lunged. They had a half mile on the road and then quarter of a mile along the far side of the fence. The rifle on Paul’s shoulder jolted down each time May’s hooves touched the ground.

As Paul rode up the cattle moved toward the closed gate, as they always did. The air was heavy with the fresh sweet smell of the wet alfalfa and clover.

Paul dismounted and rushed to the calf; Nalley’s prized purebred Hereford was rolled to her side, legs straight out, eyes wide open. She had been dead from bloat for a while. Paul’s brothers David and Jonas were supposed to be checking and repairing the wire fence, but they weren’t around. Paul could hear the grunting of several cattle wide from bloat. Paul pulled the 270-rifle from his shoulder and loaded the bolt. May’s ears rolled back as she put her head down.

“Easy girl,” said Paul as he pulled the butt of the rifle to his shoulder and aimed the muzzle high above the farmhouse and pulled the trigger. The cattle lifted their heads from the ground and stared in the direction of the report. The sound the animals heard was from behind the muzzle, muffled with hiss.

Earlier, as Paul rode in the west pasture, a fenced in forested land, he felt increasing discomfort. The early summer day was humid, and the dew laid heavily on the group.  His adoptive father was away working on a pipeline, and Edna, his adoptive mother was on one of her regular trips back to Hinton where they used to live. She kept her house, and she worked as an accountant a few days each month. David and Jonas were alone in the farmhouse and had a few chores to do.

Paul listened to the group of cattle around him. Paul was the youngest, but he was responsible for the well-being of the cattle, as he had been sent to volunteer with the veterinarian in High Prairie soon after they moved to the farm to learn what he had to. David, the oldest of the three boys and Jacob were small for their age and had heart conditions, while Paul was adopted. Paul was muscular and capable.

The young bull, Sam, was grunting, his left side extended with bloat, a massive gas built up from the wet, dew drenched alfalfa. The internal pressure will kill the animal if left alone. Two cows had stopped grazing and started chewing their cud. The release of the gas during the chewing meant these two would soon be out of trouble.

Paul had several trocars in sheaths on his belt. The trocar was a rod with a metal sheath down the neck. The tip was a razor-sharp triangle. To release the gas the trocar is firmly and rapidly pushed into the left side of the stomach wall. The center of the trocar is pulled out with the handle as the tube sheath stayed in place.

Paul slipped through the herd to Sam and stood on Sam’s left side, holding the trocar. Sam’s grunt was intense, sharp, and loud. He swayed toward Paul. The trocar plunged into the top of Sam’s stomach and the handle was pulled out, leaving the tube-like sheath in place. The rancid rotting stench surrounded Paul. He would never get used to the smell. Sam stood still and his grunting receded to heavy slow breathing.

Paul stepped back from the side of the bull as he heard another low-pitched groan, that was like a deep scream. It was Nelly. Paul pulled out his second trocar and rushed toward her as she fell to the ground. He plunged the trocar into her stomach without hesitation. The core of the dagger trocar slipped out and more nauseating gas filled in around Paul. Nelly groaned quietly and rolled to an upright position with her legs under her body. Her head nodded and she was standing.

“What’s the shooting about,” said David looking over the fence at Paul.

“The herd got out into the wet alfalfa,” said Paul.

“So,” said Jonas, now beside David.

“That’s how you kill them with bloat,” said Paul.

“Everything is okay,” said David.

“Nelly’s calf is gone,” said Paul.

“Dead?” asked Jonas.

“Yes,” replied Paul as he pointed at the body.

“You’re going to get it for that,” said Jonas.

“Yes, I am,” said Paul. “I was out this morning riding May checking the west-pasture, and you two were supposed to be out here checking the wire fences.”

“You’re the one responsible for the cattle,” said David.

Paul shook his head, David quit high school in his freshman year and Jonas would soon be out of school as well. Their father had brought them to the farm just off Alder Ridge Road in the South Peace River region so they would work hard and recover from their heart conditions. Paul was adopted and would take care of things until they were strong enough, but Jonas had already had a heart attack after they arrived. Paul thought that their father had brought them out to the farm to hide them from a judgemental community in Hinton, where David and Jonas had been found to have autism and poor ability to learn.

“What do you need us for?” asked Jonas.

“You must find where the fence is down, and fix it,” said Paul.

“You can’t tell us what to do,” said David.

“That is exactly what you two were supposed to be doing this morning, so just start doing it now,” said Paul.

The two looked along the fence and shook their heads.

“It won’t be too hard, because you have all day to do it,” said Paul. “Open the gate and we can get the cattle in.”

David turned and walked toward the gate. In a moment the cattle started to move toward the opening with Paul walking along the group and slapping them on their backs.

Jonas stood motionless as the herd moved in.

“I need you two to watch the cattle and call me if you notice any starting to breathe hard or grunt,” said Paul.

“They are all starting to chew their cud,” said David.

“That’s good,” said Paul.

“Nelly has a metal thing in her side,” said Jonas.

“Is it hissing gas?” called Paul.

“No,” replied David.

“I’ll pull the trocar out of her and Sam, but you have to really watch them until they start to chew,” said Paul.

Both boys nodded as they watched Paul move among the cattle and pull the sheaths from Nelly and Sam.

“Close the gate behind me,” said Paul as he walked out to where May stood with the reins dragging along the ground. “Before you guys get your tools to fix the fence, fill the troughs with grain like you were supposed to this morning. They were hungry.”

David shrugged toward Jonas.

“I’ll take May around the pasture so she can cool off,” said Paul.

“You’re not supposed to ride her so hard,” said Jonas. “She looks frothed up.”

Paul slipped his foot into the stirrup and threw his leg over to the other side. He turned her toward the road, and they rode away. The silence was broken by the short trumpet of the Sandhill Cranes moving around the newly seeded field to the north. The trumpet was followed by the falsetto-lyrical roll of the crane’s call. The sounds repeated each time the cranes called. Soon a cacophony of calls resonated through the warm air.

Paul gently pulled the reins and May stopped. Her head turned in the direction of the cranes as the first group flew up from the field on the thermal from the heat of the day’s bright warmth. The flock rose calling together and began the wide circle over the field on the rising air. Then another group rose up into the sky following the first. Each group rose in their time filling in the forming spiral upward into the sky. The cranes continued forming an upward coil of cranes.

Paul continued to focus on those cranes that entered the sky first—ever higher. He now imagined what the world looked like from the height. The field below was now a dark patch of soil, a slight green from the first plants rising. To the northeast the snaking line of the Little Smoky River marked by the boreal forest that filled the valley. The tan-brown gravel surface of Alder Ridge Road running east to west with its ribbon shape intersected the Little Smoky River with the metallic single lane bridge.

Now the specs in the sky at the apex of their flight pulled away from the spiral and formed into flocks shaped like arrows flying to the east. Paul imagined he was with them, and he would soon pass over High Prairie and then on to Slave Lake and then south to Edmonton.

“Hup,” said Paul and May turned south along the road back to the farmyard.