Long Story Long

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Brent weaned the calves today. I helped out as a human fence and occasional triage gate ( Though double ‘O’ got through two times, damn bull ). If you’ve not heard in the news alongside Rihanna’s crazy love for Chris Brune and those whacky Boo-Boo’s, the Gers has got their share of rain. Which to you and me, means mud. Mud in the pens. So if you want to run some lovely cows through your pens and you have a lot of mud, it’s not all that safe ( did I mention our cows have big horns ). One gumboot stuck in the mud can be dangerous. So we waited for a dry spell before the girls came in.

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Brent did a few “fixens” on the pens. He laid out some fresh straw in one pen. He cleared up as much of the mud as he could with some help from G ( thanks G!!! ), and he secured a weak wall. With all this rain, one of our giant cement blocky bits is wobbly. The soil has washed away underneath causing the pen wall to wobble. Brent parked the pelle against the wall should anything test this weakness. No one came close, but we run as a “belt and suspenders man.”
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I’m new at this and I am a mother of four, so I expected a lot of grumping. The last time we did a weaning my husband gave me a rope with a bull on the end and said, “pull!” So this round was SO much easier.

We don’t advocate Attachment Parenting, but with a few new mums, you never know. The girls, they were on it. Because, you know, it’s about damn time those babies got off the teat. Look man, you need to get with the program. You need to be your own bovine. Live, damn it, don’t be cuddling up to me in times of stress. I raised you to be strong. You go, junior, you go! And that seems to be the collective sound of the herd.

We gently walked the herd through the alley. Each effort pushed cow after cow. The calves, confused, didn’t know what the heck was going on until we were left with the calves. Great strategy Brent! Cows get the alley. Calves are confused. Everyone went along with our exercise without much of a “moo.”

After the cows had left the pen, the calves and Gremlin ( the bull ) remained. Gremlin, it seems, was feeling fantastic about this song-and-dance. When all was said and done, he was left with an entire pen and a large bale of hay. No crazy girls hassling him. No crazy calves nibbling him. A little bachelor pad. He’s done his job and now he stood calmly munching hay while the rest worried about calves and other sundries.

Brent and I sorted out the balls from the ovaries in preparation for some FINE STEER MEAT ( inquire within! ). Thus far the only “moo” we’ve heard is from our fence-pusher-over who is not all that supportive of being separated from the herd.

Here is a sample of her work:

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Oh yes and the kids.  This is the very first time while living in “Kentucky” France that I thought “gee, take-out would be nice.”  So instead, I did pancakes.  OH and they loved it.  I celebrated our weaning with a glass of wine and some steak.  Brent, the dude who gets close with these bovines, relaxed with a giant glass of water and a hot shower.

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Can’t Wait

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Our villa habitant, is leaving. He sets sail to the great winds and vegimite that is Australia. While packing up, he takes pity on us poor, farmer folk and brings great gifts loaded with one hour thirty of unstoppable pleasure. That’s right “the other dance movie starring John Travolta.”.

I’ve seen Staying Alive. I’ve seen Saturday Night Fever. But to complete my Travolta Trifecta TM, I need to view and smile at Perfect.

Now if only I can secure one of them reely-to-reely numbers they do in the Eighties. I need to see this flick for I fall needy and weird. Jamie Lee Curtis, people. This could be grave.

Steak Has That Something

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I LOVE steak. LOVE it. I can eat a lot of steak. Especially steaky steak that tastes like steak. But I’m not the only one.

Our “purebreds,” they spend their day like this:

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and this:
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and this:

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A brief moment of sizzle, piqued their interests. They sniff. Then they realize that steak is on offer. Then they activate. They move. They get up. They seem … active. It’s on. Bug is relentless. With his old, craggy “meow,” he begs for some of the good stuff. Tosca becomes your best friend.

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I cannot say these words for other fleshy bits. There’s something about beef that gets the animals animated. I can only mirror their excitement.

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Time For Teletubbies

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This field was just grazed and with today’s sun and yesterday’s rain ( and the day before and the day before that and before that and so on and so forth ) grass it is a growin’. What was once a bit of brown and green with some brown being the herd and other brown being some mud and a little merde here and there, we are seeing brilliant green fields. Hopefully our wet autumn and winter will bring paddock after paddock of great food for the girls. Z has fallen in love with the Teletubbies, so when I see green fields [ whisper ] I see Tubbies. Yes, I said that out loud.

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The villa lake is full and ready for the wild ducks.

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There are some patches of water gathering in the fields, but we are doing very well. Others have lakes on their wheat crops. But if you could hear the life in this earth. The worms, the growing grass, the water being absorbed. It’s very loud. But not as loud as munching Salers.

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Tosca could really care less about all these discussions as there aren’t many calories involved.

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GrayCute secures the car. This is his territory and he will kick your a$#rse should you ( yeah you MilkShake ) come near.

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and the moon looked a little something like this through the willow. I’m still working on my moon shot. Whoops, did I just moon you?

Another Story To Deflect Taxi Driver Conversations

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“I bought this bunny basket on sale for two Euros.” These are the words you use to shield yourself from further conversation with semi-private public transport. Other top hits include:
” I bought this ten dollar shirt on sale for five dollars.”

And the classic

” My cat [ beat ] eats dog food. ”

But I really did buy that bunny basket for two bucks as I take hold of France on sale. Look, I have four kids all in need of Easter Bunny happenings. It’s a good fit that I find a squishy bunny basket for my bubby bub.
So please, no comments. Let us enjoy the moment that is bunny-basket-on-sale and leave it at that.