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I woke up with wet feet. I didn’t realise there was a long, thin crack in one of the bottom boards, allowing water to dribble into the hull. I got out and sat down at the waterside, watching the sun climb to the summit of Rigi. The outline of the mountains glowed like gold veins pumping through the skyline.
Christoph came early. I was thankful. I needed a meal and shower. He drove us up to his farm, half an hour south from the city near to Alpnach, at the foot of Pilatus. The car rumbled through the hillside. Swiss pines lined the roadside in regiment, upright, like soldiers.
“You look tired, John,” Christoph said. “Did you party all night?”
“Hotel wasn’t much good,” I said. “Damp.”
“You can sleep for an hour. But my cow, she will give birth this afternoon. I want you to be there.”
I’d never seen anything give birth before.
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We arrived after half an hour. Their house, a chalet with a gabled roof and wide eaves, looked out over the lake. Christoph ran out to check on his heifer.
Diana showed me to their spare bedroom. She was wearing a mucky jumper, a cream knit with chocolate icing smeared on her breast. As I showered I could smell cakes baking. When I went back into the bedroom, Diana was cranking the Venetian blinds, locking out all light. I laid down on the bed, and fell asleep within minutes.
#
An hour later, I woke up with Christoph shaking me.
“It’s time,” he said. “She’s almost ready.”
I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Come on. You can’t miss it.” He handed me a small plate with a thick slice of double-layered chocolate cake, and a glass of milk. “I’ll be in the barn.”
I stuffed the cake into my mouth, swilling the chocolate pieces around with the creamy milk. I walked through a corridor lined with old family photos. Christoph hadn’t always been so fat. One picture showed him and Diana with their two boys out by the lake. Christoph’s shoulders were twice as broad as his hips, his stomach flat, legs thick and brown and barbed with hair. He stood proud in swim briefs. Diana was covered up; hat, sunglasses, skirt and blouse.
I went out to the barn. The cow was sectioned off in a pen, standing up, but covered in mud and dust and straw. Two hooves were emerging from her vagina, and a thick string of mucus dangled from her vulva.
I’d never seen a cow’s vagina. It bagged up, crinkled; ready to shit out a new life. It was one of the most hideous things I’d ever seen.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Christoph whispered.
I smiled.
“You might have to help me ease her out,” Christoph said, examining her backside. “If she struggles, we pull the calf from the hooves.”
“I can’t do that,” I said. I didn’t think I was scared of animals. But there’s something alien about livestock – you only ever see them on TV or in children’s books or in your dinner.
“Sure you can,” he said. “You can’t be so negative, John. She will know.”
The cow mooed.
“So what do we do now?” I asked.
“We wait for her. She won’t be long.” Christoph moved to the corner of the barn and showed me a large black tub full of what looked like rotten grass. “This is silage. A cow’s dinner. How does it smell, to you?”
“Rural,” I said, and took a seat on a small wooden stool, behind the cow. Christoph laughed, and joined me.
“A few years ago, we had a terrible time with the cows,” he said. “Everything was normal, the calves were coming strong, we were doing so well. I was even going to build a second barn. But one day they just started disappearing. One here, one there. We didn’t know what was going on.”
