Yeah, been a few months or more. This summer qualifies as 'Hell on Earth, the Un-Cool Version'. Don't know how it's been for you, but the weather has been nuts, either too hot, too much rain or wind or....
Too hot to paint, without a temperature and humidity-controlled paint booth. If the paint doesn't fog, the painter will drip sweat into it. So, it's a no-win situation, until the temp comes down to around 80F. Scuffed the Sable's rear quarter backing it into the barn, so just now getting around to fixing that mistake. Should be ready to paint next week, but I've sung that song before.
Farm work never stops. The baby bull, Rascal, is now almost as big as his momma and his cousin, Spunky, isn't far behind. It's funny how an 800 pound animal can act like a puppy, not realizing that he can bulldoze you like a blade of grass, if he gets upset.
Writing? I'm doing plenty of it. Got a couple of projects going, not including the new video work. Stay tuned.
Other than that, welcome to the wonderful fall weather, hurricanes included. Please keep all hands and feet inside the ark.
All the best,
Tom
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
Full Moon and Spring
What a week.
Put paint on the Mercury Sable and did something I haven't done in years. Ran the paint till it dripped, like I'd never painted a car before in my life! Can't remember when this happened last but it made for lots more work. Spent yesterday sanding the drips down and will spend part of today sanding the rest of the car. It's like starting all over again.
The weekend was interesting, if not educational. Saturday I went to a class in "Lead Safety, Removal, Renovation and Painting". After the class, all I can say is, 'invest in plastics'. You'll need lots of plastic, as in tarps, gloves, etc. to comply with the federal regs on removing old paint in houses built before 1978. Or you could just bulldoze the place.
Got an email from an old high school buddy, hadn't heard from him in, well we won't go into ancient history, but it's been a long time. He's been doing stuff I wish I had pursued, but we can't do everything in this life, try as we may. I don't know if I can even mention what he's been doing, will have to wait and see what's allowed to be discussed. Yes, folks, that's the way the government works. You have no need to know.
The full 'super' moon was a sight to see this weekend. Took some photos and shot some video of it, for the record book. Will have to wait and see if we experience any earth shakes in the next few weeks. Doesn't look good for the short term.
Other than that, enjoy this new start to the year. It's been great here, 80 degree weather, the pear tree is in full bloom (very early) and I'm looking to get the rototiller out and churn up the garden plot.
Now all I have to do is watch out for the snakes.
Put paint on the Mercury Sable and did something I haven't done in years. Ran the paint till it dripped, like I'd never painted a car before in my life! Can't remember when this happened last but it made for lots more work. Spent yesterday sanding the drips down and will spend part of today sanding the rest of the car. It's like starting all over again.
The weekend was interesting, if not educational. Saturday I went to a class in "Lead Safety, Removal, Renovation and Painting". After the class, all I can say is, 'invest in plastics'. You'll need lots of plastic, as in tarps, gloves, etc. to comply with the federal regs on removing old paint in houses built before 1978. Or you could just bulldoze the place.
Got an email from an old high school buddy, hadn't heard from him in, well we won't go into ancient history, but it's been a long time. He's been doing stuff I wish I had pursued, but we can't do everything in this life, try as we may. I don't know if I can even mention what he's been doing, will have to wait and see what's allowed to be discussed. Yes, folks, that's the way the government works. You have no need to know.
The full 'super' moon was a sight to see this weekend. Took some photos and shot some video of it, for the record book. Will have to wait and see if we experience any earth shakes in the next few weeks. Doesn't look good for the short term.
Other than that, enjoy this new start to the year. It's been great here, 80 degree weather, the pear tree is in full bloom (very early) and I'm looking to get the rototiller out and churn up the garden plot.
Now all I have to do is watch out for the snakes.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Into the Spring
Busy, too swamped with work and literally flooded in the lowlands around here to have time to post on the old blog.
Will increase the blog posts, starting with coverage of the books that I've read over the past few months.
That will have to wait until I get this weekend out of the way. Going to get the Mercury Sable finished off, primer it and look to paint it next week, when the weather finally breaks into the 70's.
As for the folks out there who are dealing with the employee/employer issues and worker rights, I'll be putting up some comments on my 01Wage Slave blog.
It's going to be an interesting year!
Will increase the blog posts, starting with coverage of the books that I've read over the past few months.
That will have to wait until I get this weekend out of the way. Going to get the Mercury Sable finished off, primer it and look to paint it next week, when the weather finally breaks into the 70's.
As for the folks out there who are dealing with the employee/employer issues and worker rights, I'll be putting up some comments on my 01Wage Slave blog.
It's going to be an interesting year!
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Would Chuck Wood for Work
Otherwise, I can't wait to chuck winter for spring.
You been having a nice, mild winter? Not here. I've been playing lumberjack most of this winter, in conditions that are common up North, but downright aggravating here. I've cut and split enough wood for three 'regular' winters and it's not over yet.
I expect 50 degree weather this time of year, not highs of around 30. Which is the normal low temp overnight.
So, this past week, we went from highs in the upper 20's to temps now in the lower 70's! Great weather to catch the flu.
Posting here has been spotty, at best.
It's a good thing that I don't have access to the internet on a full time basis or I'd get nothing done on my writing or around the farm.
Love the internet, great source of info, etc., but it makes me want to comment on things that I should leave alone.
So, it's back to the shop, where a Sable awaits me. Time to put paint on it and ship it down the road. Then it will be tractor maintenance time.
Believe me, I look forward to a nice, relaxing hour or two in front of my computer, working on my writing. Some people think it's a grind, but they should try manual labor for a while.
Then they would appreciate how easy it is to give your opinion on things you aren't going to change without making a real, physical effort.
Back to work, wage slaves.
You been having a nice, mild winter? Not here. I've been playing lumberjack most of this winter, in conditions that are common up North, but downright aggravating here. I've cut and split enough wood for three 'regular' winters and it's not over yet.
I expect 50 degree weather this time of year, not highs of around 30. Which is the normal low temp overnight.
So, this past week, we went from highs in the upper 20's to temps now in the lower 70's! Great weather to catch the flu.
Posting here has been spotty, at best.
It's a good thing that I don't have access to the internet on a full time basis or I'd get nothing done on my writing or around the farm.
Love the internet, great source of info, etc., but it makes me want to comment on things that I should leave alone.
So, it's back to the shop, where a Sable awaits me. Time to put paint on it and ship it down the road. Then it will be tractor maintenance time.
Believe me, I look forward to a nice, relaxing hour or two in front of my computer, working on my writing. Some people think it's a grind, but they should try manual labor for a while.
Then they would appreciate how easy it is to give your opinion on things you aren't going to change without making a real, physical effort.
Back to work, wage slaves.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Ending the Year with a Calf
So, don't have a cow, man.
Been busy, so busy that there's been very little time to work on the blog. Cutting, splitting firewood, burned more so far this year than all of last year. Winter weather during the fall season, broke some records, a reverse of this summer. I'm sure you're enjoying the weather where you are.
The 'herd' has been self-thinning. Curlie (Curly?) jumped the fence for the last time about three weeks ago. The Boss and our neighbor decided to reach an agreement on the situation, so she was sold to the neighbor. Now, she stands at HIS fence and bellows, while looking over at our pasture. She's a cow, so go figure.
LuLu (again, I didn't name these heifers), decided that enough was enough and delivered her calf on Christmas Eve day. I was cutting some standing deadwood down by the creek when MoMo bellowed at me from the hillside. I could see LuLu was down, but didn't think much of it. Went to check on her about an hour later. She had the new boy with her. He's a healthy little dude, about 60-70 pounds and bigger than my German Shepherd.
So, a Christmas calf and a baby bull at that!
Now, if I can get some bull market activity on my writing, then it'll be a GREAT 2011.
Have a healthy and prosperous New Year!
Been busy, so busy that there's been very little time to work on the blog. Cutting, splitting firewood, burned more so far this year than all of last year. Winter weather during the fall season, broke some records, a reverse of this summer. I'm sure you're enjoying the weather where you are.
The 'herd' has been self-thinning. Curlie (Curly?) jumped the fence for the last time about three weeks ago. The Boss and our neighbor decided to reach an agreement on the situation, so she was sold to the neighbor. Now, she stands at HIS fence and bellows, while looking over at our pasture. She's a cow, so go figure.
LuLu (again, I didn't name these heifers), decided that enough was enough and delivered her calf on Christmas Eve day. I was cutting some standing deadwood down by the creek when MoMo bellowed at me from the hillside. I could see LuLu was down, but didn't think much of it. Went to check on her about an hour later. She had the new boy with her. He's a healthy little dude, about 60-70 pounds and bigger than my German Shepherd.
So, a Christmas calf and a baby bull at that!
Now, if I can get some bull market activity on my writing, then it'll be a GREAT 2011.
Have a healthy and prosperous New Year!
Monday, November 29, 2010
Bovine Social Club
You have lazy Sunday afternoons, where you lie around, perusing what to do, if you don‘t take a nice, quiet nap. I know that I’ve had a few, but lately, most of them have been taken up with catching cows. This is not to be confused with Mad Cow disease, although you might make a cow mad while attempting to herd it home.
If you are wont to enjoy the company of your neighbors in a natural, rural setting, there is nothing like trying to get a lovelorn heifer back to the home pasture. Especially if she’s mixed in with about thirty other head of cattle, a half-dozen horses and a mule. Let me not neglect the Bull of the herd and it’s young son, Bull, jr.
This stray heifer, not exactly light of hoof at about 800 pounds, has been the cow errant of the farm. She likes to jump fences, even if said fence is of barbed wire construction and about three feet tall. Which is not the usual height of a good farm fence. It’s the height of some of the fence here due to lack of maintenance. Fence gets taken down by trees, animals, broken posts, etc. There’s always something to mend on a farm.
My neighbor Carol, having encouraged my father into getting this ‘herd’, is a willing participant in the care and feeding of said animals. I was against it from the start, as I knew who would get roped in, so to speak, when it came to dealing with the overall care of the ‘herd’. My previous experiences having been with a herd of about 25 cattle last year that a former girlfriend happened to have on her property. They spent more of their time over the fence, in the road or wandering in the woods then they did in the fields. Since both the cattle and my ex-girlfriend were spending more time wandering than staying home, it was best that we split. So, I really didn’t want to have to deal with more of the same, with less help, this year. At least I knew which watering hole the cows were drinking at.
When I showed up at my neighbor Carol’s door, she was in the middle of cooking beans and watching “Of Mice and Men”, which could be the story of living in my old farmhouse, but the mice have taken to committing suicide by water bucket lately, a topic which I may dwell on in a later blog.
It would be about an hour before the beans and the movie would be over, so I went out to the shop and worked on various projects. I put a couple of coats of paint on the now welded up ATV gas tank, then started taking apart the wood burning fireplace insert. Haven’t been able to sell it, so I’m going to cut it down to fit my small fireplace. It’s more than twice as big as the wood burner I’m using now.
Carol came out to get me when she was ready to go. I got some rope, a big plastic coffee can of sweet feed and found a wooden stick, about 1 ½ X 2 inches and 4 feet long. Didn’t think to bring a ball bat. Carol had her cane that she used when they operated on her knee. It helps to have a nice stick when you’re dealing with a herd or even a single animal. As Carol found out earlier in the week, when a very preggers LuLu all 1,000+ pounds of her, cornered Carol and tried to butt her, wanting to get to that can of sweet feed. Which is a real treat for cattle and horses, kind of like chocolate for kids with hooves. Three basic rules of dealing with cattle: Don’t get in with them while feeding them, don’t get between a heifer and her calf and NEVER fuck with the bull. You will get the horn, if not run over.
We piled into her van, since the farm truck was hooked to a trailer and went up the road to the neighbor’s pasture. At the field, we walked about a ¼ mile, looking through the scattered herd for “Curly”. Don’t give me any grief about these names, I didn’t name the cows, Carol did. We spot Curly on the far side of the pond. I notice a very anxious black cow, which I mistake for a bull. She’s dancing around, running back and forth. That’s when I ask Carol, “Does JW have any bulls out here?”
“Yep, why?”
“I think I see one.”
That’s when I realize that Carol, festive person that she is, is wearing a bright red Christmas sweatshirt under her bright orange University of Tennessee windbreaker, with athletic shoes. We’re being subtle here, right? I’m dressed in standard farm regalia, bib overalls, heavy boots and a black and white checked hoodie, dark blue ball cap. Just like you see down at the local feed store, rapping to the oldies.
“Uh, Carol, you might want to zip up your jacket, since that bull might not like your red sweatshirt.”
I won’t repeat her reply, lets just say that she zipped up her windbreaker while dodging ankle deep cow pies.
Turning back to the cow in question. Curly was regarding us with a wary look. She’d seen people coming for her before and it usually wasn’t a good sign. I tried to ‘make friends’ with her by using the old, native ritual of shaking the gourd, in this case, rattling a plastic coffee can of sweet feed, while calling “Here babe, come on, here babe.” Hey, it works for witch doctors, right?
She looked at me like I was some thick-glasses wearing geek in a hillbilly costume. I kept up the chant. The dancing cow gets closer and I realize that she’s a young heifer, couldn’t see her udder, since she isn’t mature. Curly comes on and gets about four feet from me, the smell of sweet feed drawing her and twenty other cows. I throw some out on the ground and she bows her head to munch it. As soon as I pull the rope out of my pocket she moves off. We proceed to play ‘chase the cow’ for the next half hour.
During this time, we realize that there is a bull in this pasture, actually there‘s two of them. Big Bull’s watching with more than a little interest, kind of like a pimp watching over his ladies. His son, Bull, jr. is prancing around, playing with his mom. Which is hard to imagine, 500 pounds of dancing beef. Big Bull, he’s cool, you would be too, if you weighed in around 1800 pounds. He looks like a four-legged locomotive with a head about two feet wide. All I can think is that I’m glad that he’s not a big one. I had one about 2300 pounds come at me last year when the herd stampeded due to 4th of July fireworks going off. The only thing that kept me from getting run over was the fact that I was next to a forest and got in behind a tree. The herd went through the forest, then they slowed down. They sauntered into the next field like nothing happened. Which made me happy, since that’s where I was trying to herd them to begin with.
We now have Big Bull decide that we’re messing with his heifer. Not only is he standing shoulder to shoulder with Curly, he’s got the rest of the bovine posse lined up with him. I faced some big offensive lines playing high school football. Which wasn’t hard, since I was the one of the smallest, lightest guys on the team and the only one that wore glasses in the whole league, while playing middle linebacker. Some of the guards and centers would laugh, until we made contact. Everything I did was within the rules. The problem is there’s no referees on this field and these animals have their own rules. You might outrun a bull for a hundred yards, if you’re a world-class sprinter. I guarantee that he’ll catch you in the second hundred.
Discretion being the better part of valor, I turned around and walked off, heading for the gate. Carol decided that would be a good idea also. I think she was growing tired of dodging cow pies and pushing horses away from her. They love sweet feed and aren’t shy about it. We had gone about a hundred feet when Carol said, “They’re following us.”
She was about twenty feet off to my left, I pivoted, looked over my shoulder. Sure enough, the bovine posse was duly following us towards the gate. We’re all out for a nice, Sunday afternoon stroll in the fields. As we get near the gate, the owner and his wife pull up. JW and Theresa park in the road and get out to help. JW shunts the horses off into a field next to the one Curly is in and closes the gate on them.
The bovine posse now has us cornered by the gate. 25,000 pounds of beef on the hoof versus three puny humans, who wouldn’t top 400 pounds altogether. The bovine posse craps more than we weigh in a day. We hold them at bay since we have the key ingredient, sweet feed. We rattle the cans, enticing them, warding off the animal spirits. Curly knows it’s ordained and shuffles forward, the rest of the herd holds back. They turn and move away, like they know we can’t be stopped and she’s been chosen to leave with us.
I get around behind her, moving slowly, urging her forward. JW keeps her from going down the right fence line and back out into the field. Carol opened the gate, wide enough to drive a truck through, shaking her can of sweet feed. Curly edges forward, then moves to up the fence line to my left. I dodge left and get her headed back towards the open gate. Curly gets within ten feet of it, then bolts left and turns on the speed like a halfback heading for the goal line. She’s gone, back into the middle of the field, in nothing flat.
A big roan mare decides that she’s seen enough and pushes the gate open, reaches over and rips the lid off of Carol’s coffee can. She wants that sweet feed! Carol bops her on the nose, while JW waves her back behind the gate into the small field.
We humans regroup, deciding that parking the maroon van and the big Chevy diesel dually at the gate might have kept Curly from coming out. The vehicles are moved, while I walk out into the field, trying to catch up with Curly. This is why you need either a good horse or a four-wheeler. A moto-cross bike would work, but I think that after hitting a few cow pies, you might have to be hosed off and fumigated before they let you in the house. Trying to walk/run after cattle will only wear you out.
After about another twenty minutes of chasing Curly, I’ve had it. I’m ready to go back to the shop, where the only cowhide is in gloves or seat covers. The Big Bull has ambled towards the lower pasture. He’s getting bored. Curly comes up along side him, going the other direction and gives him a ‘come-on’ rub with her butt. I’m watching this and decide that I better hang back, in case this is Sunday afternoon bovine lust. He ignores her and keeps heading towards the lower pasture. Miffed, she trots off across the big pasture and I start to follow her. JW yells at me, “Hey, forget it. We’ll get her tomorrow.”
I can only nod agreement and we trudge back across the pasture to the gate. He tells me about how he used to have two bulls, but last year one of them disappeared. He thinks it might have been stolen. I’m surprised. “How the hell could someone steal a bull? We can’t even get a heifer to follow us!”
He explains that they have a gun, shoots a dart with something in it that slows the bull down.
Whoa! I’m thinking, that’s it! Cows on ‘ludes! Where the hell are Quaaludes when you need them! No, wait, that would just make her really horny. That’s enough of a problem.
Wonder how many Valiums it would take?
Maybe we should just take her a bucketful of beer and let the drunk heifer stumble home behind us?
Sounds like an excuse for a kegger to me.
If you are wont to enjoy the company of your neighbors in a natural, rural setting, there is nothing like trying to get a lovelorn heifer back to the home pasture. Especially if she’s mixed in with about thirty other head of cattle, a half-dozen horses and a mule. Let me not neglect the Bull of the herd and it’s young son, Bull, jr.
This stray heifer, not exactly light of hoof at about 800 pounds, has been the cow errant of the farm. She likes to jump fences, even if said fence is of barbed wire construction and about three feet tall. Which is not the usual height of a good farm fence. It’s the height of some of the fence here due to lack of maintenance. Fence gets taken down by trees, animals, broken posts, etc. There’s always something to mend on a farm.
My neighbor Carol, having encouraged my father into getting this ‘herd’, is a willing participant in the care and feeding of said animals. I was against it from the start, as I knew who would get roped in, so to speak, when it came to dealing with the overall care of the ‘herd’. My previous experiences having been with a herd of about 25 cattle last year that a former girlfriend happened to have on her property. They spent more of their time over the fence, in the road or wandering in the woods then they did in the fields. Since both the cattle and my ex-girlfriend were spending more time wandering than staying home, it was best that we split. So, I really didn’t want to have to deal with more of the same, with less help, this year. At least I knew which watering hole the cows were drinking at.
When I showed up at my neighbor Carol’s door, she was in the middle of cooking beans and watching “Of Mice and Men”, which could be the story of living in my old farmhouse, but the mice have taken to committing suicide by water bucket lately, a topic which I may dwell on in a later blog.
It would be about an hour before the beans and the movie would be over, so I went out to the shop and worked on various projects. I put a couple of coats of paint on the now welded up ATV gas tank, then started taking apart the wood burning fireplace insert. Haven’t been able to sell it, so I’m going to cut it down to fit my small fireplace. It’s more than twice as big as the wood burner I’m using now.
Carol came out to get me when she was ready to go. I got some rope, a big plastic coffee can of sweet feed and found a wooden stick, about 1 ½ X 2 inches and 4 feet long. Didn’t think to bring a ball bat. Carol had her cane that she used when they operated on her knee. It helps to have a nice stick when you’re dealing with a herd or even a single animal. As Carol found out earlier in the week, when a very preggers LuLu all 1,000+ pounds of her, cornered Carol and tried to butt her, wanting to get to that can of sweet feed. Which is a real treat for cattle and horses, kind of like chocolate for kids with hooves. Three basic rules of dealing with cattle: Don’t get in with them while feeding them, don’t get between a heifer and her calf and NEVER fuck with the bull. You will get the horn, if not run over.
We piled into her van, since the farm truck was hooked to a trailer and went up the road to the neighbor’s pasture. At the field, we walked about a ¼ mile, looking through the scattered herd for “Curly”. Don’t give me any grief about these names, I didn’t name the cows, Carol did. We spot Curly on the far side of the pond. I notice a very anxious black cow, which I mistake for a bull. She’s dancing around, running back and forth. That’s when I ask Carol, “Does JW have any bulls out here?”
“Yep, why?”
“I think I see one.”
That’s when I realize that Carol, festive person that she is, is wearing a bright red Christmas sweatshirt under her bright orange University of Tennessee windbreaker, with athletic shoes. We’re being subtle here, right? I’m dressed in standard farm regalia, bib overalls, heavy boots and a black and white checked hoodie, dark blue ball cap. Just like you see down at the local feed store, rapping to the oldies.
“Uh, Carol, you might want to zip up your jacket, since that bull might not like your red sweatshirt.”
I won’t repeat her reply, lets just say that she zipped up her windbreaker while dodging ankle deep cow pies.
Turning back to the cow in question. Curly was regarding us with a wary look. She’d seen people coming for her before and it usually wasn’t a good sign. I tried to ‘make friends’ with her by using the old, native ritual of shaking the gourd, in this case, rattling a plastic coffee can of sweet feed, while calling “Here babe, come on, here babe.” Hey, it works for witch doctors, right?
She looked at me like I was some thick-glasses wearing geek in a hillbilly costume. I kept up the chant. The dancing cow gets closer and I realize that she’s a young heifer, couldn’t see her udder, since she isn’t mature. Curly comes on and gets about four feet from me, the smell of sweet feed drawing her and twenty other cows. I throw some out on the ground and she bows her head to munch it. As soon as I pull the rope out of my pocket she moves off. We proceed to play ‘chase the cow’ for the next half hour.
During this time, we realize that there is a bull in this pasture, actually there‘s two of them. Big Bull’s watching with more than a little interest, kind of like a pimp watching over his ladies. His son, Bull, jr. is prancing around, playing with his mom. Which is hard to imagine, 500 pounds of dancing beef. Big Bull, he’s cool, you would be too, if you weighed in around 1800 pounds. He looks like a four-legged locomotive with a head about two feet wide. All I can think is that I’m glad that he’s not a big one. I had one about 2300 pounds come at me last year when the herd stampeded due to 4th of July fireworks going off. The only thing that kept me from getting run over was the fact that I was next to a forest and got in behind a tree. The herd went through the forest, then they slowed down. They sauntered into the next field like nothing happened. Which made me happy, since that’s where I was trying to herd them to begin with.
We now have Big Bull decide that we’re messing with his heifer. Not only is he standing shoulder to shoulder with Curly, he’s got the rest of the bovine posse lined up with him. I faced some big offensive lines playing high school football. Which wasn’t hard, since I was the one of the smallest, lightest guys on the team and the only one that wore glasses in the whole league, while playing middle linebacker. Some of the guards and centers would laugh, until we made contact. Everything I did was within the rules. The problem is there’s no referees on this field and these animals have their own rules. You might outrun a bull for a hundred yards, if you’re a world-class sprinter. I guarantee that he’ll catch you in the second hundred.
Discretion being the better part of valor, I turned around and walked off, heading for the gate. Carol decided that would be a good idea also. I think she was growing tired of dodging cow pies and pushing horses away from her. They love sweet feed and aren’t shy about it. We had gone about a hundred feet when Carol said, “They’re following us.”
She was about twenty feet off to my left, I pivoted, looked over my shoulder. Sure enough, the bovine posse was duly following us towards the gate. We’re all out for a nice, Sunday afternoon stroll in the fields. As we get near the gate, the owner and his wife pull up. JW and Theresa park in the road and get out to help. JW shunts the horses off into a field next to the one Curly is in and closes the gate on them.
The bovine posse now has us cornered by the gate. 25,000 pounds of beef on the hoof versus three puny humans, who wouldn’t top 400 pounds altogether. The bovine posse craps more than we weigh in a day. We hold them at bay since we have the key ingredient, sweet feed. We rattle the cans, enticing them, warding off the animal spirits. Curly knows it’s ordained and shuffles forward, the rest of the herd holds back. They turn and move away, like they know we can’t be stopped and she’s been chosen to leave with us.
I get around behind her, moving slowly, urging her forward. JW keeps her from going down the right fence line and back out into the field. Carol opened the gate, wide enough to drive a truck through, shaking her can of sweet feed. Curly edges forward, then moves to up the fence line to my left. I dodge left and get her headed back towards the open gate. Curly gets within ten feet of it, then bolts left and turns on the speed like a halfback heading for the goal line. She’s gone, back into the middle of the field, in nothing flat.
A big roan mare decides that she’s seen enough and pushes the gate open, reaches over and rips the lid off of Carol’s coffee can. She wants that sweet feed! Carol bops her on the nose, while JW waves her back behind the gate into the small field.
We humans regroup, deciding that parking the maroon van and the big Chevy diesel dually at the gate might have kept Curly from coming out. The vehicles are moved, while I walk out into the field, trying to catch up with Curly. This is why you need either a good horse or a four-wheeler. A moto-cross bike would work, but I think that after hitting a few cow pies, you might have to be hosed off and fumigated before they let you in the house. Trying to walk/run after cattle will only wear you out.
After about another twenty minutes of chasing Curly, I’ve had it. I’m ready to go back to the shop, where the only cowhide is in gloves or seat covers. The Big Bull has ambled towards the lower pasture. He’s getting bored. Curly comes up along side him, going the other direction and gives him a ‘come-on’ rub with her butt. I’m watching this and decide that I better hang back, in case this is Sunday afternoon bovine lust. He ignores her and keeps heading towards the lower pasture. Miffed, she trots off across the big pasture and I start to follow her. JW yells at me, “Hey, forget it. We’ll get her tomorrow.”
I can only nod agreement and we trudge back across the pasture to the gate. He tells me about how he used to have two bulls, but last year one of them disappeared. He thinks it might have been stolen. I’m surprised. “How the hell could someone steal a bull? We can’t even get a heifer to follow us!”
He explains that they have a gun, shoots a dart with something in it that slows the bull down.
Whoa! I’m thinking, that’s it! Cows on ‘ludes! Where the hell are Quaaludes when you need them! No, wait, that would just make her really horny. That’s enough of a problem.
Wonder how many Valiums it would take?
Maybe we should just take her a bucketful of beer and let the drunk heifer stumble home behind us?
Sounds like an excuse for a kegger to me.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Yippie Ki Yaa
Or however that old cowboy saying goes...Guess I need to ask Bruce Willis, cowboy that he ain't.
No posts for the past few weeks, busy with the new 'herd'.
Let's just keep this brief and say it's been late nights, stuck trucks, tractor maintenance, heifers on the run and mending fences. Be glad that it's me and not you.
More work to be done this week and I need to be out of here. The weather's great and it's too nice to be inside. The internet is a great place to visit but I don't get my work done when I'm surfing it.
Beautiful weather and I need to get to the barn.
If it rains, more later this week.
No posts for the past few weeks, busy with the new 'herd'.
Let's just keep this brief and say it's been late nights, stuck trucks, tractor maintenance, heifers on the run and mending fences. Be glad that it's me and not you.
More work to be done this week and I need to be out of here. The weather's great and it's too nice to be inside. The internet is a great place to visit but I don't get my work done when I'm surfing it.
Beautiful weather and I need to get to the barn.
If it rains, more later this week.
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