As I sat in my living room this Sunday morning, enjoying a cup of coffee, checking my email and facebook page, and daydreaming about starting a landscaping project this spring, a large black cow came wandering into view. Now that wouldn't be all that unsual since there are about 600 of them on the meadow by our house currently, however, this cow was not on the meadow. It was in my yard. Good thing it's too early to start that landscaping.....
The ever offending gate....
So it occurred to me that it's been several months since I last updated this blog... Almost a year actually. One of my last blogs was about calving season, and guess what, here we are again. Waking up in the middle of the night, wandering out in the cold to drive around and check to see if any heifers are having trouble....day after day and of course, night after night after night...
I have to admit, this is mostly Nick's job. I actually have very little to do with it, other than elbowing him when the alarm goes off at 10, 2, and 6. But last weekend, Nick left me home ALONE to check cows while he went to a bull sale.
Me, alone, to check cows. Let's stop and think about that. I'm not entirely sure what I'm supposed to checking for...other than the obvious nose and legs protruding from the back end of a cow. But it looks terrible to begin with; how in the world would I know if something was actually wrong?? Nick just laughs and heads merrily down the road. Figures.
So dutifully, I go out to check the cows at the appropriate times, in the same way I've watched him do it. First step: Drive the old white pickup. Nevermind the fact it's older than I am, the steering is going out of it, it has no headlights (because Nick "bumped" a cow and broke them) and of course a manual transmission, which I'm only slightly learning to drive. Nevertheless behind the wheel I go and head toward the calving lot. After killing the engine about 5 times, I even make it there. Step one - Check.
Of course the cows have all decided to stand right by the gate. So I do what I can to shoo them away so I can open the gate and drive through. Which miracously I manage to do without a single cow escaping. Point for me! Step two-Check.
And behind the wheel of the little white pickup again....and I kill the engine half way through the gate....Oye. But finally, I get through. Now I'm sweating bullets because I know I have to actually shut the gate. This is a new gate. It's recently been rebuilt which means one thing, it's a bear to shut. Really, really tight and requires a professional weight lifter to close. Which of course I'm not. But miracles of miracles, I get it shut. I manage to check all the cows too. Twice in one day. With no problems other than killing the transmission on the pickup repeatedly. Step three-Check.
On my last trip through, I'm feeling pretty proud of myself. There I am patting myself on the back, feeling like a real cowgirl when I drive out the gate for the last time knowing Nick will be home before the next round, and won't he be so proud! Whistling, and a I dare say a little bit cocky, I saunter over to the gate, pick it up and try to close it. Apparently, I was a bit over confident. The lever won't shut. No problem, I'll just try again. I take the post out, pull on the gate and try again. Nope, not even close. I lean on the lever with all my weight. Still no good.
Half an hour later, I'm still there. The gate still won't close. Cows are crowded around the gate, watching (and likely laughing as best cows can). One actually try to "help" by resting her head on the gate. Our dog Gimli, who has previously sat patiently watching starts to whine, as if it to say "Come on already - Nick can shut the gate in 10 seconds, what's taking so long?"
Sweat running down my back, cussing like a sailor, and stamping my feet like a petulant child, I somehow manage to win the battle with the gate. The cows applaud, Gimli happily runs toward home, I get in the pickup and promptly kill the engine. And wouldn't you know it, not a single calf was born the whole damn day!
