My Jogging Buddy

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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.

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Cowboys In France

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Our village hosted a Soirée Western last year.  It was a fun event.  So, we did it again this year.  They use our beef.  We enjoy feeding local families.

The weather didn’t cooperate, it missed the memo.  It was raining and thundering and striking lightning bolts everywhere.  By the time the fete was on, things were calm, but wet.  We had an indoor option, so there was nothing to panic about.

The master chefs prepared the burgers outside under a shelter. Burgers came out, salad and frites were ready.  After a few burgers, we got the flow of  burger making for just under two hundred people.  Though some of those under two hundred had three burgers!

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Last year, I was meet-and-greet-frite girl.  Easy job as long as the frites weren’t late.

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This year, I was burger girl.  I …. me … was the burger adviser.  We had a few discussions on the order of the burger.  It caught me by surprise, but with a few conversations on what layer the onion should play, we got there.

I love the hours spent on discussion about food and wine.  Even in Kentucky France, we are very serious about the order and presentation of food.  I was told off today because my cole slaw, that I warned was American style, was chopped and not shredded.  Thankfully, I got a pass.  You bitch!

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This year we had live music.  Zelie can’t help herself but dance to any music.  A few others joined in.  She’s dancing with one of our local fire fighters.

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Most people found some cowboy themed costumed.

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… and some wore seriously awesome boots!

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An American flag was present, which I felt was very cool.  Many people have a photo in front of it.  I wasn’t expecting that.

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Somehow, a friend herded five of the six Curtisi for a photo.  Zelie was running around us at the time.  I think she lapped us six times before the shutter released.

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… see that red fire alarm?  okay under that, to the left …. there is a gray streak by a dark grey dot.  That is Zelie.  She stuck her tongue out in protest.