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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