I received a Christmas card from my friend Jamie today. On the envelope flap was one simple little question: “What happened to barbed wire and bangles???”
This one’s for you, Jamie.
I believe I have expressed before that I was struggling to come up with something to write between my column and famous facebook posts. I’ve decided there’s really no reason why I can’t just post that stuff here, too. So if you read my columns or are a facebook friend of mine, you may want to just go ahead and close your email now.
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While eating supper a few nights ago my husband expressed a regret to me.
“Man, I should have bought some frozen cookie dough at the store today so you wouldn’t have to make cookies.”
Wait a minute. Had I missed something? A memo, perhaps? Had I offered to make cookies while sleeping?
Of course not. I’m certain I would not even have been that generous in a state of slumber.
I’m only kidding.
Anyway, he must have read my thoughts – or my face – and felt the need to pull the guilt card. He decided it was time to show his most recent battle scar: a bruise.
Now, revealing a bruise may sound a little on the desperate side. Maybe even a tad on the wimpy side. But you should have seen it. It was at the top of his ribs on his left side, as big around as a golf ball and multi-colored. It was only two days old. Everyone at the tabled cowered and moaned upon seeing it.
The injury occurred while we were weaning some calves. The guys were loading a group into the trailer when one turned and decided to make a run for it. Joe and one of our hired men jumped in his path, and the calf jumped, trying to get around them. The calf was pinned between Joe and the panels. Either that, or Joe was pinned between the calf and our hired man and the panels. I watched it happen, gasping, but it’s still a little unclear to me.
I can’t tell you how many times it’s crossed my mind that professional athletes have nothing on cattle producers. We chase down calves who, at only twelve hours of age, can run faster than most humans and sometimes even a 4-wheeler. Once we catch those calves we have to hold them still long enough to get an identification tag in their ears. Some producers who raise purebred cattle also must weigh those calves before letting them go. All of this commotion occurs while a protective cow weighing in at a just over a half ton is breathing down our necks. Sometimes catching up with a calf is near impossible because that protective cow is not only breathing down our necks, but may also be butting at us or even angrily charging.
This past calving season, after I’d had troubles with a very protective cow, I took Joe out on the 4-wheeler to help me tag her calf. We try to stay on the 4-wheeler as much as possible while tagging. Besides the fact that 4-wheelers allow for fast getaways, the cows seem less threatened when we’re not on foot. This particular time, the cow was pushing her calf toward theh edge of what I would call a “cliff.” I hung in there with him as long as I could on the 4-wheeler, then opted to go hide behind a tree, because I simply did not have time for a “Thelma and Louise” moment with my husband that day.
Anyway, I was hiding behind the tree watching my husband get as close as he could with the 4-wheeler. He wasn’t having much luck, so he decided he had to try on foot. Cows tend to use whatever method possible to protect their newborn calves. This cow decided to start nudging her calf a little over the edge. This sounds horrible, but you would be amazed at how nimble these four-legged animals are, even on the steepest of terrains. The calf started making its way down the bank. Joe had to put himself between the cow and the calf while scaling the “the cliff.” He got it tagged.
I’d always thought he was brave before, but watching him from behind the tree that day I saw how truly courageous he his. He’s my hero – even if my lifespan is shortened by a couple of years now and then as a result of witnessing his bravery.
Barbed Wire and Bangles 