Sunday, December 13, 2009
Cows on parade
December 13, 2009
It was 2:00 pm and I had just awakened from the coma I go into after working my 12 hr night shifts, when our youngest son Kyle (just dropping by for a visit with his wife) opens the back door yelling for his brother Jason. He had spotted his brothers truck in the drive. I inform him he is in Chenoa picking up grain with his father. Kyle then informs me there are a few cows in the yard. "Few" meaning MANY MANY cows. My view out the office windows confirms they are indeed loose. I call the hubbie who sadly informs me he won't be home for at least an hour
So, to the chore boots we go. My new daughter-in-law was willing to help so I threw her a pair of my boots (we both knew the very striking 5 -inch -heeled- black -suede- boots she came with were not going to make the grade). I wear a size 10 boot. Amanda wears a 6. Did she balk ? Did she complain ? Did she make excuses about why she could not help round up the badly behaving bovines ? She did not.
She threw on my work boots while her husband grabbed another pair of extra chore boots in the basement and off we went. We ran , we yelled, we waved our arms and then we went outside to see if that would work any better. Cows were everywhere ! In the garden, by the machine shed, partially down the lane and a couple on the roof. One cheeky little heifer had hot wired my car and was heading down the drive with three randy looking peacocks in the back seat, each sporting those badly done homemade tatoos, you know, the ones with the numbers in fading ink across the knuckles. I hate those kind of tatoos, don't you ?
But they did not have a chance against the three of us. (I'm talking about the cows again, I'm done with hoodlum peacocks) Well four, when you count our dog Freddie who so wants to be the herd dog he is genetically meant to be, but without formal training he just ended up circling me a good amount of the time.
It took awhile but we managed to get them into an area with two side of intact wire. Amanda was new to all this but she ran through mud and manure like she's done it all her life. She moved those cows around very professional like all the while flopping around in the too-big boots. I put out some hay to keep the cattle focused while we untangled yards of electric wire and restrung it to make 4 sides of a pen. I turned the electric fencer back on but when several calves kept making a break for it without getting shocked we knew we failed that part of the roundup but by then, Keith was coming up the drive. I swear I heard Calvary Bugles sounding.
The five of us were then able to sort calves from cows and return everyone to their rightful pen. I know it may be a little out of our budget but tomorrow I plan to call Pontiac Prison and get the name of their fence builder. It seems to hold bad boys pretty well it should work for a "few" bad cows.