This is a PSA. Be careful out there campers. This morning I went out to tag calves. I grabbed a new baby, threw him down, plopped down on him and reached for the tagger. Next thing I knew, mamma was doing that break dance move where you spin on your head, only she was on my ribs.
After a couple circles I spun out of the pocket to my right, looking for some running room. I thought I was going to make it but the pursuit was hot. She put her head right between my shoulder blades and planted me in not the softest part of the calving lot. She skidded across me and came to a stop about 15 feet away.
I got up on my knees and discovered I had landed right by my calving kit, which was still intact. A quick inventory and I found I was still in one piece. She was standing there huffing at me, but I was feeling kind of cocky for living through that, so I laughed and told her, “HA! You big turd, you didn’t even knock my hat off.” The snot flew and she went 0-60 right now.
I’m going to brag a little, because I hurdled the feed bunks and a four wire barb wire fence, in my coveralls, carrying the calf kit. Sometimes, it’s all about incentive. I thought I could use a little sympathy, so I went in and told my sad story to Allison. She said, “Oh the poor thing, she’s just hormonal. She’ll calm down in a day or two.” What?! She about hormoned me into next week. Sheesh, I feel like Rodney Dangerfield.
Farmer Dan's Food For Thought 