[Remember that I need your order by tomorrow: Friday. Not necessarily your payment, but at least your order. Gracias!]
The winner of the Spring 2010 motto is, “Long Horns, Long Days, Long Lives.”
Nice job, Callie! It was close with the Apple Pie motto… but yours won by 5 votes. I think I’ll use the Apple Pie motto a bit in some other surprises around here.
To be honest, Folks, I wasn’t sure about this motto. I wasn’t. That is, until yesterday evening about 5:42pm. Then I decided it was absolutely perfect. There’s a story here. Let’s see if this gives you any clues: what’s wrong with this picture?
You’re thinking, “A baby got out! Belinda’s baby got out!” And, that’s true. Good farmers, all of you. This was taken through my screen window before I bolted outside and left a 3 year-old in charge of an infant. This guy has done this to me twice, actually. I have dubbed him Rascal. But, babies are easy. They just want to be back with their mammas… they don’t actually go anywhere.
Entire herds, however, are a completely different story.
Yesterday at 5:30pm, Rylie was staring out the window yelling, “Mooooooo.” This happens daily, as the pasture surrounds our house. You can see animals from every window. Five minutes later, she was still channeling the cows and I finally looked up… to see a very large Miss Bonnie staring in the window at me. And, all her friends with her. Even the babies. On the wrong side of the fence.
Now, I’ve put the 2 steers back in before. I’ve even put the babies back in on 3 separate occasions. Fine. But 15 cows? No. No I have not.
I called Curt to tell him to come home. I threw Gus in the swing, and I left Rylie in charge (again). I opened all the gates. I grabbed a feed bucket and started banging. We give them corn for this very reason- cows will always come home for corn.
They didn’t care.
In fact, they stared at the open gates, laughed at me, and took off at a dead run down Montcalm Avenue. All 15 of them. All of them AND Rylie’s college education. All of them.
Walter Tango, people. Walter. Tango. *#^*(^@$)@@!
I really thought they were gone. I really thought they were back on 200 acres of corn, all spread out, and never coming home. I went back to the 50-gallon feed drums and started banging again, just so someone would be able to find me in a heap of snot and tears later wearing my new linen pants.
To my surprise, the ground started shaking. I looked down the road an eighth mile and there- around the bend and three bovines wide- there came my herd. Hauling back. HAULING. Like something straight out of a Lonsome Dove stampede.
By then my neighbors had sauntered up- and I do mean sauntered… there was no 2nd gear in effect– and helped me gently shoo them into one field. I slammed the gates shut, grabbed a traumatized Rylie off the porch, and opened a coke. Gus never batted an eye.
Curt rolled in about 10 minutes later. I demanded a raise.
Long Horns, Long Days, Long Life.
Our shirts should be ready in about 2 weeks.
Love you guys,