The Starrs' eyes light up when they see me and my five-year-old golden retriever walk into the light from the dark cobweb-strewn corridor at the barn's entrance. They're both thoroughly exhausted from trying to help Jesse deliver her third calf.

Jesse is a doe-eyed brown Jersey cow, a favorite not only because she's a superior milk producer but also because she's exceptionally sweet and friendly. Jesse seems to enjoy the company of humans more than the other cows, perhaps because her mother died just after her birth and the Starrs bottle-fed her until she could manage on her own.

Also in the barn is Amy, the Starrs' eight-year-old daughter. Amy has always adored Jesse more than any other animal on the farm, and tonight, when she woke up to the sounds of her parents rushing to the barn, she begged to come along, too, in case she could help. Joe and Martha have let her stay. Amy's face is wet from tears and wrinkled with anxiety, and Megan runs over to her and starts licking her cheeks.