02/02/2026
Meet Sweet Thunder,
A wee calf that fell into the vicinity of my awareness only a couple of weeks into 2026.
She got her name from the giant rolls of tummy gurgles that happened upon releasing pressure through her pelvis, and from her sweet expression and ever delightful look in her eyes when I showed up to tend to her.
She ate and drank, ate and drank, each time I brought her fresh grass and tipped the bucket toward her mouth. She fell asleep in my arms, and at night we curled up round each other, listening to the rain on the corrugated iron roof.
Much like the days spent beside my grandfather, we listened to the world go by - a hand on a hand, or a hand on a furry shoulder. Nothing much said but for the togetherness that speaks volumes. Breathing beside the breath of a loved one, and a river of grief flowing down into Acheron.
She had shown all of the familiar signs of release as I had worked my way around her body, releasing trapped pressure from her bones. I admit I expected to see her wriggle, shift around and then move off in at least a crawl toward the grass she loved so much. But when I came to check on her a bit later, I was puzzled to see her still in the same position.
Her hind legs were completely flaccid when I lifted her by the pelvis to rearrange her position. There was no voluntary movement at all.
The full story eventually arrived. It was into her third week of being down. She had been found lying on a hill after the New Year thunder storms with pneumonia, barely alive. The vet had provided the necessary assistance to get her back on track and the little critter improved - but never got moving again.
In close conversations with the farmer, I understood that he wasn't ready to give up on her. So, I wasn't going to, either.
I sought advice from trusted colleagues and friends across the Contact CARE, farming and veterinary scenes. Ewen Equine Management and ConTact CARE and Lisa Bishop were both great supports. Helene Burgstalle and her team from Paeroa Vets were also incredibly supportive as the situation became increasingly complex.
It blew me away when, upon releasing the pressure through her p***c symphysis, movement came back into her hind legs. She began to shift them and respond. I could hardly believe it. Pepe Ewen had released the same place in a down cow and that team effort had been a successful venture.
Sadly for Sweet Thunder, such help had arrived too late on the scene and her trajectory to grow into a healthy heifer was becoming more and more desperate as each hour passed on the ground. A vet advised the farmer that she probably wouldn't recover from such an exhaustive hit on little baby bones, nerves and joints - ones without the necessary time and nutrition to fully form before such a setback. It was a hard truth to swallow.
On our last night together, I rummaged through my boxes of possessions and finally found what I'd been looking for. My aunt Julia - a gifted plant woman - had left me with some beautiful calendula cream in a wide-mouthed glass jar and for some reason, I decided I must find THAT one to place on to the sores of Sweet Thunder's knees. I was taken aback when I read the company name that had made it; Happy Horizons Calendula Cream.
After gently tending her sores, I wrapped her hocks in torn pieces of my grandfather’s pyjama trousers.
A week later, I was back in the area, tending the herd at The Good Farm — cows with retained placentas, cows down after calving, and cows new to the herd. I realised how much I had learned from those intensive five days with Sweet Thunder, and how much more helpful I was for this species of animal. With thanks to her, I could recognise a new level of pelvic twist and feel it unravel as they coughed, belched and dozed their way back into balance.
Ah...
Thank you, Sweet Thunder.
Happy horizons to you, my friend 🌸
