For an hour.
We were having some friends over for dinner. They all arrived, adding four more kids, and we watched her labor.
For another hour.
We watched another half an hour. (I'm quite the hostess, eh? 'Want to stand in a windy field where we can only whisper while I stare intently at hooves emerging from a cow? GREAT! Then you're going to love this party.')
It was nearly dinnertime and everyone - especially my baby - was hungry. I gave up, resigned myself to the fact I wasn't going to see this one, and slowly drove home. I was willing her to have it as I went past, but no luck.
My friend noted, "You've only seen three calves born in your ENTIRE LIFE?! Even my daughter's seen one born! And she's six years old!"
But you see the difficulty! They have them off by themselves, they have them often at night, and when they do have them where you can see in the middle of the day, it's hard to find three hours that you can stand, watching, with kids you're trying to keep away from manure and the electric fence.
Kris got home a half hour later. He'd checked on her right before driving home. She had the calf in solitude. It was a tiny heifer.
Tomorrow is another day! Hear that, cows?!