Coronavirus Casualty

I’m blaming the weather. Are anyone else’s cows a little nutty this year. I pride myself on calm cows that just stand there while I tag their babies. This year, so far, I’ve had three come after me. Percentage wise, that’s probably not bad, and if you get out of the way, it’s no big deal. Tag them later. Unfortunately today, the third time was a charm.

I had tagged seven calves with no issues. I grabbed number eight and sat on him. Momma kept close watch over me while I banded him. When I started to give him his shot, I can’t really tell you what happened. I did a backwards somersault, and then another, and another, and another. I believe there were more gymnastics mixed in there also, but I can’t be too sure. After approximately six said somersaults, she finally decided to go back and check on her baby.

I must admit, when I got to my feet, I was not a happy camper. The things I said while I was picking up everything she scattered out of my calf kit can’t be printed. It was along the lines of , “If you think I’m done with that calf, you got another think coming!” I picked up my kit and walked up to that calf and grabbed him by the back leg again. That B….that Sh…..that rotten ……that ol’ cow chased me all the way down the hill we were on. When I went by my Ranger, I thought she’d stop. Nope. She wasn’t gaining on me, but I wasn’t getting any separation either. About 60 yards into the chase, my coveralls and the calf kit were starting to weigh on me. I was just about to accept death when she gave up chase and went back to her calf.

I walked back and sat in my Ranger, still puffing. I thought about a couple things. First thing, I really need to start running again. Second, I was glad she didn’t kill me. I could just see the headline. “Local stockman dies of coronavirus complications. Underlying health conditions included angry 1400 pound cow.”