Two new calves this day. Brent moved the herd and then went to tag the calf left behind. As he does safely, while the mum was off munching. This gal was not so impressed with getting her ears pierced. ” The calf is running the wrong way,” I hear from Brent on the radio. She crossed to the next paddock and Brent asked for some back-up. I drove down in the truck. She wasn’t running too fast, but steady. She was too far ahead of him, so when I met her with the truck she stopped. Honked my horn to get her to turn around towards the herd. No such luck.
She kept running, running, running. Up the hill to the next paddock. Towards the courtyard she went, I jogging beside her as to not lose her. I used to jog in Discovery Park in Seattle Washington. I worked on my breathing back then which helped for this moment now. So we jogged next to each other. I tried not to panic. Catching a calf in this mode is not easy. They have rodeo events for this situation. Calves are random with their direction. They are fast. They are strong. I without a horse and a lasso, all I could do was jog.
Her tail flicked up, I reached for it, grabbed it then tackled her like a rugby player. I radioed to Brent that I had her. It was all I could do to keep that girl from running some more. She was so incredibly strong and I am not a small woman. She must have been all of two hours old.
We drove her back down to the herd, she found her mum. All is good.
She had quite a motor to run all that way uphill after just being born, Brent called her Motörhead. The photo above is Brent beginning the words, “She’s weeing on me.” I suppose being a rebel by running away and then pissing on the farmer also supports her name.
Bug is dead. Lovely cuddly cat. We thought he would make twenty, but lasted sixteen years with this crazy family. Never complained. Always up for a snug. Always under the fire in winter. Enjoying the Gascon sun in summer. Litter of one. Born in America, moved to France. Put up with the kids, the barn cats, the puppies, the cows, the chickens. Allergic to cats? He’ll find you. He would snug any person.
We’ll miss you Bug. Thanks for loving us. Thank you for loving everyone.
Technically, not Spring yet, but our first calf has arrived. Brent’s been suffering from calving withdrawal, so it’s nice to get these babies out and tagged. Her name is Mooshroom ( a Minecraft ref ). If you don’t know what Minecraft is, don’t worry, it’s still a cute name.
Our piggies have moved to a new pad. They worked the soil well and it was great to get them on to a new project. Here they are when they first arrived.
Then they did this. Ready for veggie patch preparations.
We moved them here. I say, “moved,” but it wasn’t easy. The three big boys followed the bucket and totally got it. Yum, new grass. The two little ones were tentative venturing out to a new paddock with fresh food. They wanted to stay put, live in mom’s garage, lay on the couch and play video games. We are used to herding animals. They are fantastic. Even when things get crazy, you can move a herd like a magic pen on a Magnadoodle.
These two little piggies were very confused as were we. “The grass is over there!” “Pig, what ARE you doing?” We said. Finally, we lifted the fence and let them slowly, slowly nudge and munch their way to the new paddock. Crazy pigs.
This morning, they were sunbathing and enjoying their new digs.
Rihanna has blessed us with another hit. I like the beat. I like the feel. I have no idea what she is saying. Doesn’t matter, the rhythm feels good. And I thought, this is very much like Chaucer. Not sure what he was on about, but the rhythm is great. I grabbed some prose from each, read them side-by-side and tried to imagine each singing or reading each other’s words. I think it could work.
Dry! …Me a desert him
Nuh time to have you lurking
Him ah go act like he nuh like it
You know I dealt with you the nicest
Nuh body touch me you nuh righteous
Nuh badda, text me in a crisis
As wisly he gye alle my joyes here
As I am youres, and to yow sad and trewe,
And ye, my lyf and cause of my gode chere,
And deeth also, whan ye my peynes newe,
My worldes joye, whom I wol serve and sewe,
The only Chaucer that ever hit home for me was from Bill Bailey:
Close proximity to Kitchen and the outdoors. Phone accessible. Internet internessible. Piano, bouncy ball, fancy chairs. Photocopy, fridgebox, dinner table. Yeah, a farmer’s wife doesn’t just wife … she farms … we know that. Because there is so much to do. So much so, we employ child fambly labor to get the chooks done or move shtuff or help with the cows. And the sales. And the delivery. It’s all part of moving things forward. We call on friends. Friends help us when two is not enough, we need the third man for our annual “check all the cows” day. Thanks g-Friend! The office looks calm, but we are sold out.