Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .

Monday, April 16, 2018

Bobbi Cow. And Me.

The best season of the year when one lives on a ranch.
And as seen through my mother's eyes.
A poem by Enes Stringam . . .

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.

God planned to make things new and bright,
That's why He made the spring.
When birds and creatures everywhere,
Their sweet new babies bring.

Bobbi Cow, some years before,
Was born on icy ground;
Froze her tail and ears right off,
Before the calf was found.

We called her pet;
She had a fearsome face.
Now she and I were bound here in
An anxious, awesome race.

All through winter, cold and dark,
Mother creature’s bellies grew.
Embarrassed, but a little proud,
I blushed for mine did, too.

All of the cowboys' bets were on,
As to who would win the race;
The boss' wife or Bobbi Cow—
The milk cow on the place.

One by one, the days groaned by,
As I suffered all their cheer.
"Bobbi Cow will win, you'll see!
Her time is very near!"

Every day I stroked her side,
Lamenting the ways of women.
She switched her tail and tossed her head,
Her only thought was winnin'!

On that night, I tossed and turned,
There was no thought of resting,
Within the womb, the baby stirred,
The time had come for nesting.

We fired up the four-wheel-drive,
Just at the crack of dawn,
With wheels spinning and sparks a-fly,
The mighty race was on.

Each of us was sure she'd win,
The adrenaline flowed all day,
Me, in the delivery room,
And Bobbi in the hay.

Bobbi, then, received her cue,
(The same as her archrival,)
Urged on by a wildly cheering crew,
As they watched her calf's arrival.

And in the bright delivery room,
I pushed with all my might,
Afraid the babe would not be born,
And choke to death this night.

My hair and gown were soaked with sweat,
My strength began to fade,
And then one last colossal push,
Out popped our howling babe!

Then, suddenly, the race was done,
But who really cares who wins?
As I cuddled my darling baby girl,
And Bobbi licked her twins.

There were no losers, only champs,
It was a tie, you see.
A miracle and a Mother's love,
Transformed the cow. And me.

Bobbi and I declared a draw,
Both wiser and both thinner;
The light of love shone in our eyes,
Each one of us a winner!

Mondays do get knocked a lot,
With poetry, we three besought,
To try to make the week begin,
With gentle thoughts--perhaps a grin?
So Jenny and Delores, we,
Now post our poems for you to see.
And when you’ve read what we have brought,
Did we help? Or did we not . . .

It's warm! 
Come back next week for fun,
When all three welcome Mr. Sun!


  1. Such a sweet poem....the story of life's arrival. So, next weeks topic is Mr. Sun? I sure hope we see some before then.

    1. That's what I'm hoping. That if we write about him, he'll appear! It works with my toddlers...

  2. It's not hard to see whose daughter you are when you show us your mother's poetry and other writings, Diane :)

    Echoing Delores - such a sweet poem!

    Mr. Sun, eh? Ooooo I'm going to need my thinking cap :)

    1. I LOVE being compared to my sweet Mama! Thank you!
      And Mr. Sun peeked out from behind a snowstorm just as I was trying to dream up a new topic. Blame him! :)

  3. A beautiful poem with such a wonderful personal connection. I believe your mother and the cow were both winners too.Weekends In Maine

    1. Thanks so much, Karen! I think so, too!

  4. That's a sweet, sweet poem. I love babies. Of all kinds.

    1. Thank you, River. I'm a baby hugger as well! :)


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