When I was in high school I absolutely HATED getting up an
extra hour early so that I could feed and water horses before I went to class.
There were even mornings that I would feed everyone and then take a nap in the
tack room while they were eating. I am pretty sure that there is still a cup
and spoon in there from where I ate my cereal on the fly and washed it out, but
could spare there extra two minutes to walk it back to the house because that
would mean getting up two minutes earlier.
While I’m still bad about not changing shoes after I feed,
much to the chagrin of my housekeeper – me, I have found myself greeting the
mornings with a lot more ardor lately. Why may that be?
Well, the majority of the cows now live in Illinois! Can I
get a whoo hoo?
That was an ordeal in and of itself. The highlights?
Watching a calf magically turn boneless and wriggle under the catch pen like a
gigantic furry eel. Roping the same calf with the skill of a kindergarten
mutton buster and trying desperately to hold onto him long enough for CA to
move the trailer into place so he could ship with his mama. It was like a bad
version of Gulliver’s Travels – the lariat wound around my legs and threatened
to topple me over while I was hauling back on an enraged calf that was lunging
away from me like a hound of hell. I’m pretty sure he turned into the Hulk.
Like 90% sure. He should not have been that strong… And then there is 32, also
known affectionately as “Hateful B!tch.” HB got that nickname from the guy at
the sale barn, and boy, has it proven to be true. Not only did she run through
panels a few times to escape the move. She ran through me, kicked me as she
went by, and then sailed over three fences with skills that I have seen 17 hand
thoroughbred hunter jumpers envy. I wasn’t sure if I should be pissed, or just
impressed honestly. I’m still not. Thank God she jumped in with the neighbor’s
herd. It took them a couple days to catch her and even then she tried to go
through people, 6” gaps between trailers, trailer windows… you know, anything. She
charges the side of the trailer if I walk by. She has an appointment with the
processor because I’m not sure that any fence we have will hold her, and I don’t
really want to have calves that are that crazy. Plus, you know what they say:
hate is the best sauce… that B is going to be delicious.
Anywho, now that the cows live over here it means I have an
hour of watering to do over at my grandpa’s place before I go to work in the
morning. I am consistently surprised that I love it. I don’t know what happened
to 14 year old me and my avoiding getting up early for any reason, because here
I am sitting on a rock pile SnapChatting cow pictures to my friends as I wait
for the troughs to fill.
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| When your friend posts a picture because they look good (Panda), and don't really care about how dumb you look (Bertha Mae). |
Now if only I could make myself use chore boots. I still freaking
hate vacuuming. Perhaps I’m not so different than I was at 14 after all.
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