This is why I can't have nice things.

That is what my legs looked like at the end of Friday's feeding.

Why?

Because the ole gals have been chatting around the hay feeder and decided that the new fangled birthing options out there sounded like they'd be great to try. Here's a hint, cows shouldn't have water births.

They should also not have births close enough to the lake that the calf could fall in and make it look like a water birth.

They should also not ATTACK people who happen by on the tractor in the nick of time, strip their shoes off (because I have lost boots by wading in lakes before), and jump in valiantly to save their newborns from hypothermia or drowning.

You'd think they'd be grateful, instead I'm nursing a few bruises and pulled muscles from running away from an angry momma. Fortunately my dad heard all my yelling (something along the lines of: "You stupid witch! I'm trying to help! I'm not the one who decided to have a baby in a f-ing lake!") and interceded with the four wheeler and a big stick. 

Everyone is fine, other than me with my lower back which was twisted in the getaway - or by face planting because I didn't put my boots back on (which really, look at my feet, you wouldn't either) and slipped on the "cow mud" by the feeders. 

Friday was not my day.

This is why I can't have nice things...

But Saturday was. Isn't he the sweetest? Really, who needed a decent pedicure anyway?

Meet Peep

I lifted broody hen and what did I find beneath? A fuzzy little yellow chick who peeped his bitty head off at me.

I have to admit, I fell in love. I held him all the way over to his new home at Captain America's house. At less than 24 hours old he is already spoiled rotten.

I kinda hope some siblings hatch, or I will have the world's most babies bird!

It would be cute if it wasn't terrifying

Last week my dad brought home a baby bird that was hopping around the yard at work’s satellite facility baiting black snakes. He couldn’t find a momma or a nest, so he brought her to my mom. This is not the first time that we have had a baby bird; in fact we actually have raised up kittens, mice, opossums, turtles, whatever needs a mother’s love for whatever reason throughout my entire life. So, dad brings mom this bird, we google her type and what to feed her. Mom and dad left and I sat for twenty minutes trying to feed her moistened high protein dog food with tweezers unsuccessfully. An hour after mom got back from lunch the little gal had a paper towel nest and was chilling out inside my mom’s shirt. I know, I know, weird. She was happy and eating though, so it worked.

As a result of her love of my mom she has warmed up to people completely. She will now fly over and land on your head demanding food whenever you walk into the room.

Spoiled much?