Sigh…

I have been a no-blogging, no-column-writing, and — if I’m being completely honest — no-laundry-doing loser face. What exactly have I been doing during this sabbatical?

Who the heck knows?

Let’s see. We had wheat harvest this past summer. And our county fair, where our kiddos take their projects to showcase all of their hard work. Then we actually left the state for a vacation to the mountains. Then school started. Our daughter who just entered junior high started volleyball. Wheat had to be drilled, soybeans and milo had to be harvested and calves had to be weaned. Then we had meetings and holidays. And hunting. I like going hunting. However, I have not shot anything since my turkey. I went out to hunt deer several times. I just never had an opportunity to pull the trigger. As a couple of friends have said in the past few weeks, “That’s why they call it hunting, not shooting.”

Now that stuff is over. Time to get back to that back burner where I’ve left the beans for so long, they’ve just disappeared from pan.

We have 51 heifer (female) calves left on our operation. We sold the rest of our calves at the end of 2013. Yesterday we had those 51 pelvic measured and evaluated by a veterinarian to determine which ones were suitable to be promoted to breeding females, and which needed to be sold to be harvested for meat. Out of those suitable, we selected 26 to keep ourselves to replace the old cows we decide to cull from our herd in May. That number was decided based on how many head we think our current grass acreage can handle. We’ve been in a drought the past couple of years.

Joe and I have some meetings to attend in the next few weeks, then we’ll be starting calving season. It’s my favorite time of year!

I’ll try to quit being a no-blogging loser face. Take care!

 

My Experience with Neighbors and Gates

I have some history with neighbors and gates.

I was hit in the face with a gate – at a neighbor’s. Hence, my first example.

My second:

A couple of years ago we had some heifers out. Theron was on foot, a neighbor on a four wheeler, me in the pickup. My job was to get around the section and beat the heifers to the gate and get it open.

It was dark; the grass was tall. But I got to it first. However, I struggled to get the wire loop off of the gate post. I could hear the four wheeler heading my way.

Time to pray.

“Please, Lord, help me open this gate! I have to get it open before V gets here! I have to! ‘Cause I – AM – A – COW – GIIIRRL!!!”

I didn’t really say that last sentence.

Just before V pulled up, I slipped it off. He commended me, and I acted like it was no biggie.

Joe had sent him ahead because it occurred to him that I may not get it open.

Shame on him.

My final example happened just over a year ago.

M, if you’re reading this, you’ll eventually figure out my story involves you. I apologize for what you are about to learn.

I’ll proceed.

I was on my way home from town when I found a neighbor’s cow eating out by the highway. I pulled over and called; they were on their way. I decided to stay until they arrived, in case they needed another body to keep the cow from the highway.

While I sat there, the cow started walking toward the gate in front of me. I quickly called Joe and explained my situation.

“Should I just run over and open it? It looks like it’ll open easily…”

He thought I should. As I walked toward the gate, she picked up her pace. I started running, thinking she had realized I was going to open it for her.

I landed my left foot in a hole.

I went down hard. My ankle hurt pretty badly. I prayed I would be able to keep moving and that total strangers were driving by. If you saw me that day, please don’t ever tell me.

I got up to open the gate. It wasn’t as easy as it looked. There was a little knot on the post. I kind of struggled to get the wire untied and out from under that wonderfully placed knot. I finally got it, ran to pull the gate out of the way for the cow, and walked back toward my car so I wouldn’t spook her. I was feeling pretty good about myself.

I watched eagerly – as she walked past the gate. Boy, was I deflated.

Fortunately, we were not far from an intersecting rock road. She headed for the corner and turned away from the highway.

I decided I should go shut the gate so M wouldn’t have more cows out. However, I had a problem. I couldn’t find the wire.

In my haste to get the gate open, I failed to keep track of it. I assumed it was out in the grass I’d laid the gate in.

I searched, and people continued to drive by.

As pickups came by, I acted like I was closing the gate. When they were gone, I laid it back down and looked some more. I repeated this absurdity for a few minutes.

I eventually found the wire right next to the stationary post where I had untied it.

New problem: I could not get it wired shut. WHERE DID THAT KNOT GO??? It looked like it was on the OTHER side of the post now! I twisted the wire around the stationary post, because they didn’t need me losing it again.

M and his son showed up, thanked me and told me they’d get her in.

You’re going to love this: Knowing they probably wanted the gate left open to get the cow back in, I actually offered to shut the gate I could NOT get shut. True to form, they said to leave it, that they’d get her in first.

I may not have been able to get the gate wired back shut nicely, but I do have some other very convenient ego survival skills.

They left to get the cow, and I went back to move the gate out of the way so she wouldn’t get hung up in it.

As I picked it up and swung it around, I made a discovery: The gate had twisted. The post had been upside down. That knot I couldn’t find was right where it should have been, except on the ground.

Two lessons: Always tie the wire to the post it came from immediately, and double-check that the gate isn’t twisted no matter how straight it looks!

 

Getting Caught Up

I’ve decided to post some of my columns for a while. Hope you’ll enjoy them!

***

My friend Michelle and I have been sharing our “cowgirl” successes and woes with each other the past few years. We’re both stay-at-home moms who help our husbands, and between that and community activities, rarely stay home. Our kids are all mobile and can both speak and understand English now, so we have had more opportunity to get out in the cow herds the past few calving seasons.

We update each other on our experiences via Facebook. For instance, one day I tagged five calves. I shocked myself, my husband and anyone else who would listen, so I had to tell Michelle. When we post successes for each other, we always wrap up our comments on a positive note regardless of how things turned out, with a spoof on Bill Engvall’s “I’m a Cowboy” routine:

“Cause – I – AM – A – COW – GIIIRRL!!!”

I had quite a story for her last year. Hubby and I went over to a neighbor’s to help him work his cows and calves. My job was to round up four cows, sort them into a first pen, move them to the next and Hubby took them from there. I did my job very well. E’s cows are nice and very easy to work with. I kept up my end of the deal until the end. I got the last three into the first pen, opened the second, they walked in, I started closing the gate and… BAM! The gate hit me.

It’s amazing the stuff that goes through your head. You don’t usually feel pain right away, so it was hard to determine where exactly I was hit. I had heard what sounded like my sunglasses breaking, so the first thing I did was look for them. They were on top of my head, unharmed. I started frantically grabbing all over my face, trying to determine where the snap occurred and if my parts were where they should be.

In the process, I discovered a fair amount of blood.

I got the gate shut and ducked down to hide from E. I didn’t know what I looked like, and I didn’t want him to feel badly.

After coming to the conclusion that my nose had not been pushed up into my brain and that I’d probably survive, I tried to get Hubby’s attention. When he turned and saw me, his mouth dropped open and he turned white.

Maybe my nose really had made it up to my brain…

I told him I was okay, just finish the cows. I made my way over panels to get closer to the veterinarian, confident he could assess the damage for me.  By the time I made it to him, my nose was starting to hurt, and my head was pounding. I was okay. He said my nose was still straight (and not in my brain), but I’d probably have a couple of black eyes in the morning. The blood was coming from a cut just above the bridge of my nose where the gate had hit me square on. It was also coming from inside, thus making my face a bit of a mess.

I got cleaned up and put my sunglasses on to hide the top of my nose. We told E so he wouldn’t hear it through the grapevine, but I hid from his wife, hoping she wouldn’t see me as I headed for the pickup.

After my mother-in-law doctored me up, I Facebook’d Michelle. I had a story to tell! Then I stayed on the couch with ice on my face for two days. The whole left side of my body was hit pretty hard too, so I couldn’t get up anyway.

I’m very thankful a bunged-up nose was my worst injury. I still have a bump where I was hit. And sometimes it hurts when I push my glasses up. I’m also thankful for my battle scars. They serve as constant reminders to not let myself relax too much while working around cattle.

They are also a reminder of one other thing: That I – AM – A – COW – GIIIRRL!

 

For Jamie

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.

***

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.

 

Farmers: We’ve Got Connections

My husband Joe and one of our hired men were moving equipment from an alfalfa field today when the manager of one of our local elevators called Joe on his cell phone.

A fellow farmer was traveling home from town and saw some cows out on the highway. Some deputies were there, trying to figure out who to contact. He stopped by the local grain elevator just a few miles away to see if Don might know who they belonged to. [Side note: if you want to know anything around here, you go to the elevator or the service station.] Our bred heifers pasture on a place along the highway. The cows were out not far from this pasture, so Don thought they could be ours.

Joe made his way back to the farm with the baler, where he met our other hired man. They loaded up 4-wheelers and headed over to round up heifers. When they arrived, the two deputies from the sheriff’s office were still there.

They weren’t our heifers.

Joe started making suggestions as to whose they might be. Ed was Joe’s first suggestion. After a little back-and-forth with dispatch, the officers determined they had no idea how to get ahold of Ed. Ed wasn’t answering his home phone.

Joe said, “I’ll get ahold of Ed.”

He opened his cell phone and made a call to the place where Ed works. They gave him his cell phone number. Ed did not answer. In the meantime, Joe decided he’d call some of the other neighbors so they could at least rule out a few others just in case.

He called Brent. Brent didn’t think they were his and his brother’s, but he’ll send brother Brian over to look. Then Joe called Steve. Steve didn’t think they were his, but apparently his conscience got the best of him and he headed over just to make sure. Joe called Sharilyn. She was out of town, but said she’d call her husband, M. He arrived shortly thereafter. Then Ed called Joe. Yep, he thought it sounded like they were his, and he’d be there shortly.

Joe dismissed the officers.

They were fine with that. They were just hanging around to make sure the cows didn’t need to be driven to the other side of the road, in which case, they would stop traffic.

Ed arrived in the midst of a “coffee shop” session. There sat Joe, Andy (our hired man), Brian, M and Steve swapping “I always get this call when I’m out of town” stories. Ed didn’t answer his phone when Joe called because he was in the shower getting ready to head to his granddaughter’s volleyball game.

The guys all helped Ed get his cows back where they belonged so he could get to his granddaughter’s game.

This is just one example of why it’s so great to live and work in rural America. We’re a community. We watch out for each other. We all do business alongside each other, often times even with each other. We can get ahold of someone when the law can’t! We’ve got connections!