tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383683834534759163.post6035003859856678325..comments2023-05-16T04:18:29.455-06:00Comments on ♪♫•*¨*Letter Out*¨*•♫♪: GoliathBlondi Blathershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15656970490122824720noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383683834534759163.post-9771169762331657452009-07-08T17:03:01.380-06:002009-07-08T17:03:01.380-06:00Kay,
I can relate to the fear of bovines...I reme...Kay,<br /><br />I can relate to the fear of bovines...I remember being in Carlyle and Christian and I were billeting at a cattle farm. There was one calf that was still with the herd instead of being fattened up for slaughter and it was my job to try and catch it. We would break the bales of feed and scatter it from the bed of the pickup truck--summer tires in 2 feet of snow, I learned a lot from that farmer...--leading the cattle up to the pond where we would break a hole in the ice for them to drink from.<br /><br />As Christian and the farmer, whose name escapes me, made their way off to do some other farm task, I would stay at the pond with a lasso rope and wait for the calf to make its way there where I would capture it...hah!!<br /><br /> Well, let me tell you that this city boy was ill-informed about the size, intelligence, rage, strength, familial bondness, speed and weight of a mother cow. The mother cow, with a few select friends (sisters?) would never let me get close to the calf, which was as nimble and quick as a young dog. Finally after days of waiting, I got my chance as the calf was within 10 feet of me for the first time ever. Quickl as a bunny I let the lasso fly and the mother even quicker, stepped right in the way of the rope and I got her right around the neck.<br /><br />Well off she ran hardly even noticing the wild-eyed, splayfooted rube she was towing behind her. I was holding on for dear life and she took me for quite a spin until finally she ran through a snow drift. I didn't make the same impact on the drift and I went flying headfirst into the snow.<br /><br />I picked my sorry ass up and made my way to the pond to wait for Christian and the farmer, who was a man of few words but much wisdom. They came back and had a huge laugh at my expense and snow-covered appearance. He took the truck, quietly tracked the mom and her calf and gently stopped, summer tires on the rope that had been yarded from my grasp. He got back his rope and then got his young son, on another day, to bring that calf into the fattening pen (that same son rudely came and interrupted my post work hot chocolate after I had just shucked all my winter gear and settled down in the comfy chair waiting for dinner to say that I had to come with him to check a trap...but that's another story).<br /><br />Cheers, PeterAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383683834534759163.post-25220696350934454232009-05-16T12:46:00.000-06:002009-05-16T12:46:00.000-06:00That's exactly what I was thinking ... he looks li...That's exactly what I was thinking ... he looks like a little boy with a brand new toy. And the truth is, he IS really pleased. I think it's so cute.Blondi Blathershttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15656970490122824720noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4383683834534759163.post-75829770068736877062009-05-16T11:25:00.000-06:002009-05-16T11:25:00.000-06:00He looks so happy (not the calf)
/LasseHe looks so happy (not the calf)<br />/Lasselassehttp://www.nyanget.netnoreply@blogger.com