"Miracles are a retelling in small letters of the very same story which is written across the whole world in letters too large for some of us to see."

                            ― C.S. Lewis

Once upon a not-so-long-ago time, I published a chapter about the special birth by our beloved Tiny of her precious foal Stormy, pictured above. He was 7 minutes old in this photo, and within moments, began his first attempts to stand. Breath-taking. And how fingers itched to go help this small creature with legs like great stilts and twice as clumsy.

The story is in my memoir - 'Old McLarsen had some Farms - Book Two - The Milky Way', Chapter 18: A Horse's Tale   [link below in the comments, if you would like to read the whole story]

Here's an excerpt from the story of that particular miracle of Life -

The day was dark, the sky filled with heavy storm clouds. Far away and high above the land, lightning flashes traced the progress of the heart of the storm – thankfully not too close yet.

Our large Bay mare Tiny was pawing the ground and snorting through her nose and lips, as horses do when they are agitated or excited. Surprisingly, it wasn't the threat of the impending squall that worried her. Tiny wasn't fussed at all about the distant thunder - or the wind that blew in sudden gusts of ever-increasing intensity.

No. Tiny was restless because she was about to become a Mother for the first time, and our experience with our many 'brand new' mother cows had taught us that Tiny now shared the same confusion they always showed.

"She had no understanding of what was happening, did she?" I feel my eyes glaze over as a solemn procession of mind pictures click by. Sometimes she tried a half-hearted kick at her stomach and laid her head back to have a lick and voice a rumbling whinny. As if asking her own great belly – "Why are you hurting me so much? What is wrong?"

Kanute and I stayed with her, fondled her face, whispered in her ears and blew gentle warm air into her nostrils. She loved the attention, and normally it would be enough to make her eyes soften and shine like liquid chocolate. Gentle harrumphs would quiver her lips as they rolled out from deep in her throat. Normally. But not this time. Now her eyes stayed worried, in pain - and fearful too.