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Cows & Flies
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Nothing goes together quite like cows and flies and a guy in running togs. And sometime when these things happen, this feeling comes over me that is hard to describe. Mostly I just say, “I feel a blog coming on,” and everyone within picture range scrambles for cover.
Take this morning, for instance. I’d been to the Farm Supply to pick up supplies for various projects, including bandaging the injured horse next door. All I did was stop by Linda’s barn to drop off the list of things she’d asked me to pick up for her, and what did I find but Linda chatting to Skip while she was walking her injured horse, CB. Skip had stopped by to check on the 7 cows and 1 bull currently residing at her house. Not that they belong to him or her, for that matter, (this is all very convoluted), but he keeps an eye on them for their non-resident owner. They actually live on the 320 acres next to us, but are currently busy eating down the grass next door. Linda keeps a pretty good eye on them, but it’s Skip who’s friends with the owner, so he feels compelled to check on them periodically; make sure they’re wormed, and fly-sprayed, and such.
Linda asked if I could hang around and help her change CB’s bandage. I am not even going to show you how that leg is looking like these days. You might be eating. It’s enough to make grown men toss their cookies. But the vet assures us that it is progressing as it should. Linda changes the bandage daily (I usually help) and takes CB for short walks as physical and mental therapy. There is still a lot of bone exposed, but we’re still hopeful that he is going to come out of this ok.
Skip wanted to treat the cattle for flies so I offered to put CB in the cross ties while Linda went to entice the cows to the fence line. He was going to use a pour-on repellant that lasts several days/weeks – in this case it was going to be a “squirt on” process. In a perfect world, you would run the cattle into a chute and walk beside it, pouring it on their backs. This is not a perfect world.
Skip said, “Maybe I should just come back when you feed tonight.”
“No,” Linda said, “they’ll come when I call them – watch!”
Of course the cows would come when Linda called them … why wouldn’t they? Aren’t all cows pets? Heck, her horses were nickering and her sheep were bleating. Every one sets up a ruckus whenever she walks to her barn. That’s why she goes through horse cookies like they’re water (just one of the things on her list that I had to pick up at the Farm Supply) – because she’s a soft touch and spoils every animal on the place.
I knew this was going to be entertaining, so I went to the car for my camera. I have learned to never go anywhere without my camera – you just never know when an opportunity is going to smack you in the face. I was not exactly dressed for working cattle, even from outside the fence, but I wasn’t about to miss a good laugh. Shorts and flip-flops were not going to stop me from climbing on top of a haystack.
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The Mutt & Jeff of haystacks
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Skip really looks like a cowboy, doesn’t he? He came out to go running up Big Hill and diverted to check on cattle. The guy spends half his life running - training for marathons. You could blow him over with a light breeze. But don’t be fooled by the fact he’s not in Wranglers and boots – the guy can rope and ride with the best of them; not to mention the fact that he and his wife know what they’re doing when it comes to the sport of cutting. I just love giving him a hard time.
“You are not going to take pictures!” Skip groaned.
“Why wouldn’t I take pictures?” I asked him, as I climbed on top of the small stack of hay. “This is going to be too much fun to watch! In fact, I feel a blog coming on!”
“Why don’t you go in there and grab their tails, move them closer to the fence?” he suggested.
“I like my teeth just fine,” I replied.
“Seriously,” he said, “that would be a good place for you!”
“The day when you could tell me what to do is long past! Smile!” Click.
I suppose I should let you in on a little secret. Skip and I go back about 40 years. He was my 8th-grade PE teacher. So yeah, he used to be able to tell me what to do. But no more.
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How many people does it take to ...
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It takes two of them to get the fly repellant into the syringe. No further comment.
The cows (and bull) are oblivious to what’s in store. That’s ok. I doubt Skip has a very good aim. I am so going to enjoy this.
Hey! What the heck?!
“Skip, get out from behind the trees! How do you expect me to get any pictures if you’re hiding behind the trees?!”
“That’s the whole idea. Don’t you have some place to be?” he grumbled.
He couldn’t fool me. He was enjoying every minute of this, try as he might to deny it. Linda, of course, was laughing her head off.
What’s that you say? You can’t see him smiling? Here, let me help you with that.
He was not about to give me the satisfaction of looking up at me, although he did threaten to make obscene gestures at me. I told him to go ahead, I could Photoshop them away (I was so lying – I’m a total goober when it comes to using Photoshop). He’s way too much of a gentleman to ever do that, and he knows I know it. Poor Skippy. He rues the day he met me.
They reloaded the syringe and Skip took aim again.
He really was very methodical about the whole process, picking his victim each time and yelling to Linda when he hit his target. Between the two of them, they kept track of who had been hit and who was left to be treated.
This, if I do say so myself, is a great shot of the fly repellant leaving the syringe and going for its victim.
Mission accomplished. Happy cows. Happy California cows.
I was so happy to have helped.
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