Friday, March 13, 2026
Lucerito's Two Gifts on Three Kings' Day
By Nilson
On the afternoon of January sixth, as the sun was already sinking over the sanctuary's pastures, caretaker Nilson set out on his routine rounds among the cattle and the pregnant cows. He wasn't expecting to find anything out of the ordinary. But there was Lucerito — a reddish-brown cow — and at her feet, not one but two newborn calves: the first had arrived, and half an hour later, the second. A female and a male, like a double gift from the Three Kings.
Lucerito licked them with that ancient calm that field mothers carry within them. Even so, both calves needed help feeding, and Nilson didn't hesitate: he pulled out the bottle they keep on hand for moments like these and fed them one by one, in the dark of night, lit only by a flashlight. The female had already gotten to her feet on her own; the male hadn't yet, but he was breathing well and took his bottle without trouble.
A twin birth in the sanctuary's herd is not something that happens often. That night, with the three of them resting in the pasture and the dark hills rising behind them, Nilson finished his rounds knowing the day had been worth every moment.
About the author
Nilson
Nilson begins every morning in the stable, milking while the light barely grazes Cerro El Peligro, his favorite corner of the farm. He reads animals with quiet precision: a dull coat, weepy eyes, or a hesitant gait at first rising are signs that never slip past him. He remembers clearly a cow that kept collapsing from weakness in her legs, and another with a wound that refused to close. The hardest part, he says, is when an animal falls ill and the diagnosis doesn't come. His vision of the future is simple and exact: a flock of loros sweeping freely over the land, and the neighbors stopping to look up.
