Life on the farm is kinda laid back, ain’t nothing that a country girl like me can’t hack. Early to bed, early in the sack, thank God I’m a county girl.
Oh, hello. I was in the middle of a John Denver-inspired tune. Except I was singing the Dolly Parton version, of course. Now, about those cattle …
Last week the guys took advantage of those short-lived springtime days and worked some cattle. Country Man and his father own a few, most of them belonging to my father-in-law. The total of over roughly 200 head is a modest number for a one-man operation. While they are spread out, the ones that hang around the farm are just a snowballs throw from the house. I am often serenaded with the melodious sound of cattle conversations.
This led to a few concerns early on. When I moved to the farm, my in-laws would ask with a half-smile if “the cattle aren’t going to be too much trouble for me.” Ha! Little did they know I love the sights and sounds of bawling calves, fighting bulls, anxious heifers and slow moooving cows.
A few of the surrounding men gathered together to work cattle the other day, which, let’s be honest, involves little work for the old ones – unless you consider their moving jaws laboring … why, then yes, they have indeed put in a long days work – but this also means a lot of kicked shins for the young ones. It’s the circle of ranch life.
I stood on the south deck, cup of coffee in one hand, camera in the other, and yapping dogs at my feet, ready for the shouting and cursing to commence.
But then, the cattle got out.
This isn’t as bad as it sounds. It would be if the garden were in place. Then this girl wouldn’t be laughing. With two of the helpers non-farmers/ranchers, one a new retired neighbor who fancies himself a pheasant hunt and poker game now and then, and the other a fresh-faced 25 year-old taxidermist hopeful, it makes it a little more difficult to gather them back in line. Still, it’s prone to happen, and just takes a little more time to get the job done. Inconvenient.
Out of respect for their situation, I tried to be as conspicuous as possible while taking photos. Also, I had to hide, lest they yell for me to quit laughing and come help. I have helped before and will again in the future, but not this time. Not a day for being bossed. Must have had something to do with that wrong side of the bed. Or ants in my pants. Or the hair that welcomed me in the mirror that morning. Or burnt coffee. Burnt toast. Oh, heck if I know. Just one of those days.
Phew! What a day. I was wiped, I tell ya.
This full days work (and snow) is for the birds.