Gah

It's book work season. How I hate each coin and column! Closeted in that danged dark office...somebody gimme a light here. I feel like a tired old woodchuck digging in a dirt pile.

When words are your thing and numbers aren't and the logic plumb escapes you...

Look out for the farmer lady. That's all I have to say.

***Oops, nope, guess I have more to say after all. Went out to let the cows down after waking up very early wondering how the heck we were going to get a certain heifer in the barn to sell her. We have old folks, a pregnant lady, and one hale and hearty young woman to get the job done. The heifer is a lunatic that should have been sold about a year ago when she broke the ear tagger when Liz and I tried to tag her.

I was worrying. Last time we got her in the barn she jumped through a stanchion and nearly ran over me. Still there are bills to pay and beef is up. Somebody has to go...might as well be her

Along about the crack of dawn I stuffed my bare feet in my rubber boots, which were on the porch all night. Not an inspiring activity I fear. However, dawn is a good time to let the cows down to eat. Then they are finished and ready to come in for their grain when we are ready to milk them

There in the lane was a bale of hay the boss accidentally dropped off the skid steer when feeding in the dark last night. I didn't want to leave it there, as the cows would stop to eat it and the lane fence is just single strand electric. Have I mentioned that I hate chasing cows?

So I lugged it back down to the barnyard with Broadway, grand old red lady of the first stall, hot on my heels. However, she has a manner or two and didn't grab at the bale or try to run me over, just strolled along in the other tire track and jogged up to the wagon.

I put the bale in the barnyard, cut the strings, and turned back against the tide of oncoming cows, headed to my morning coffee.

Our cows are tame and sensible for the most part. Even on the narrow land bridge they obligingly split and went around me...didn't even look at me, bent on breakfast and respectful of my person.

I was thinking as I walked. Hope I don't meet 171. She will getcha if she can. Cows were peeling off around me, more and more, as they woke up and realized breakfast was served. First I met her daughter Cevin. Cevin went around me. Right behind her...it was still pretty dark...was another big white cow.

Oh, damn, damn, and double damn, 171 in person. I waved the flashlight and spoke harshly. She kept right on coming. Would not yield. Would not move over. Just kept on coming straight at me. Suddenly she was within smacking with a flashlight to save my neck, but oh, no, I didn't want to break it, distance.  I yelled at the top of my voice and jumped at her waving the light right in her face. From like two feet away.

And finally she moved aside. I was scared I'll tell you. Didn't have a phone with me or a stick. She has gone after just about everybody on the place at one time or another, but this was her first serious go at me.

And there you have it. A year in milk and not bred back yet. Mean as a snake even after nine years with us. So Winston the heifer catches a break while 171 volunteers for a trip. I am sorry to say, that although I love cows...wouldn't be out there wandering around in the dark lugging bales if I didn't...I won't miss her.