Boring

Our 16yo daughter has often said we're a boring family, and that excitement is not really a part of our lives.

So I guess I'll blog about the last 24 hours, just so folks can judge for themselves.

Yesterday afternoon, Keith took a half-day off work so we could deliver a couple of steers to some dear folks a couple of hours away. These were not our steers, but our neighbor's; he has more male calves than he needs, and pastures are suffering, so he is getting rid of some of them. Turns out our friends needed a couple of head of cattle fairly quickly, so we arranged it with our neighbor. And we decided to deliver the calves so that we could have time together as a family and visit a few hours with our friends.

Sounds lovely, doesn't it?

We don't have a livestock trailer, but our neighbor--the one selling the steers--does. Keith and three of our children and the neighbor loaded the calves into his trailer after lunch yesterday. No big deal, right? Well, apparently it was: the calves were in a holding pen of sorts, but managed to get out, thus turning what could have been a quick job into something more. They were gone awhile--long enough for the remaining daughter and me to actually be fully ready to hop into the Suburban and leave when they came for us.

So off we went. The interstate is 20 or 25 minutes from our place, and we'd been on it 3 or 4 miles when we were pulled over by a somewhat frantic farmer (in a very nice truck). He told Keith that one of the calves had jumped out of the trailer a ways back. So we immediately tried to secure the other calf--found strapping in the back of the car and put it across the open part of the trailer--the gates on the trailer are not full-height, and the calf had jumped out there. Then there was the problem of knowing where the calf was.

Thankfully, a young man who had seen the calf jump pulled up behind us and told us where he had made his escape, just before we'd gotten on the interstate. It was also near the Farmers' Co-op. So we first went by the co-op, left the neighbor's trailer there (with the calf in it), and hooked up one of the co-op trailers. Keith got in the car, checked the passenger-side-view mirror, and noticed that the co-op trailer had a flat tire. So we switched to another co-op trailer. Then we went down the road just a small piece and found a policeman and a constable--lights flashing on their cars, etc. (I didn't even know we had constables! Just what does a constable do?) And nearby, grazing by a fence, was the calf.

Then the fun began.

Keith pulled the trailer right next to the fence and opened the gate so that the calf couldn't get between the trailer and the fence. Of course, there were any number of other directions the calf could take--and did. Occasionally traffic was backed up a bit, since the calf tried the pasture on the other side of the road. And at least one truck that was going by helped herd, briefly. Keith, 12yo son, the policeman, and the constable worked on getting the calf in, but weren't doing too well. Then a farmer came by and joined in the fun. He pulled his truck up right next to the other gate of the trailer. He also had a fairly large trailer on his truck, thus forming a nice chute with the fence. Then the constable took the farmer to his home about a mile away. The farmer came back soon, zooming into the pasture across the road on a 4-wheeler. Keith was in the Suburban by this time, and he and the farmer were able to drive the calf to the make-shift chute and get him in the trailer, where 12yo son was ready to close the front stall.

Keith talking with the 4-wheelin' farmer who was such a blessing!

This was quite an adventure. We're thankful for all the great folks around who informed, helped, etc. We're also thankful that the calf seemed relatively unscathed, except for a slightly sore left rear hip. Keith was more worried about the stress the calf experienced. He was looking good last night when we left him, and I've not heard any bad news this morning, so prayers that all is well.

The policeman and the constable seemed to think nothing of it. The policeman said this sort of thing happened everyday when he was with the county. He also seemed a little relieved to have this to do, instead of the funeral he had been assigned to.

Of course, the adventure was not yet over. We still had a calf to retrieve from the co-op. Thankfully, another neighbor who's experienced with cattle was at the co-op when we came back for the calf, and he helped us make the transfer. It was also incredibly helpful that 12yo son had had the foresight to secure the escapee in the front stall of the trailer, so that he could not have another go at it while the second calf was being loaded.

And so we got back on the road and made the trip without further excitement. We had great food and fellowship and even met some great new folks. And the family's excitement about having their first cattle made me realize how much we have to be thankful for that we so often take for granted.

We made it home a little before 11:30 last night and were in bed within 15 minutes.

And this morning, we went about our regular chores, as usual. I got a load of laundry in before 14yo daughter and I went out to milk Clarabelle. Once we were back inside, daughter strained the milk and cleaned up the equipment while I helped put the groceries away that my parents had just arrived with. Then I went out back to hang the clothes on the line. I was soon joined by a pig.

The pigs are always out back, but this one was not in the pig pen; he was coming away from the pen, casually checking things out in the back yard. As if one is not bad enough, I feared the other three would soon join him, although I could see that they were still behind the fence. I also listened to make sure the fence was still clicking. (It was.) So I promptly left the clothes where they were, ran inside, and loudly yelled 12yo son's name. I don't often do this, so I was hoping it would arouse some curiosity. However, it didn't have much effect. But I heard 4yo son coming down the kitchen stairs and told him to tell his brother that a pig was out. The 4yo told me brother wasn't upstairs. However, I know 4yo--who tends to think he knows where everyone is and what they are doing. I was fairly certain his brother was upstairs, so I sent him up to find him and tell him. Which he did.

Meanwhile, I went out to start checking the electric fence. 12yo son and daughters joined me. (I had told 4yo to tell them to come, and for him to stay inside--these pigs are big, and he's not; I really didn't want to see him get run over by one.) The errant pig had found a little corn between the wood pile and the pig pen and was enjoying that. We gave the pigs in the pen some corn, which made today's escapee want more, so he joined them. This was a relief; I was imagining an impromptu shooting and butchering--and know we don't have room in the freezers right now for that!

Anyway, we found the problem with the fence, repaired it and did some general fence maintenance/improvement, and ended up having, as usual, a boring day.

Funny thing is, it really does sort of seem that way: things settle down to normal, with just a bit of lost time. Don't know if this sort of thing is becoming somewhat normal for us, and we are able to recover more quickly than what we would have done in the past, or if we're handling the situations a bit more ably, now. Don't really know, but we're going about doing the same-old-same-old. (I have to admit, though, that the girls, 4yo, and I were laughing hard--and taking pictures--while the calf-herding was going on yesterday. But I had to warn the 4yo that when Keith was near, we COULD NOT laugh. He obeyed. However, even Keith was laughing about it once everything was over and done with. Keith's recovery really amazed us!)

This is the "cattle chute." And yes, that's the interstate just beyond the fence. We are so thankful that no one was hurt in the chaos, and that folks can be so kind and helpful!

Mary Susan