The knock came just after sunrise, not from a person, but a sound against the wooden front door. A low thud. Then another. When the farmer stepped outside, he nearly dropped his coffee.
A calf stood shivering on the porch. Barely a month old, its fur was dusted with ice crystals. Its legs trembled. Steam rose from its nose. It didn’t move, just stared at him, breathing heavily.
He rushed to wrap it in a blanket and pull it inside. But as he did, the calf kept trying to turn back toward the field. Like it didn’t want help for itself.