Dishes done . . . cats fed . . . kids bundled up . . . laundry started . . . ready to leave . . . what have I forgotten?
Oh, crud, I forgot to feed hay. And here I am in my heels again. Shoot.
(I swear I didn't plan it, but Saturday I found myself in a hurry, on the haystack yet again, in heels.)
But wait, what's that noise?
Right there across the manger from me was a strange beast. Not the normal, fat, red or black beef cows, like this little lady --
-- but a black and white, rangy bull, like this one:
(Original photo stolen from these guys)
An interloper, a Holstein bull who had somehow gotten into Dad's pasture. Meaner than Leona Helmsley, but with nicer features. He was making the most gawddawful throat rumble you ever heard, and staring right at me. Not interested in the bevy of lady cows at his disposal, not interested in the tasty hay I was throwing him. Just crabby.
Also? He had a goiter. Or something.
"Knock knock," I announced as I walked into my parents' house a few minutes later. "We're here, we're ready to go." Dad came down the hallway to get his jacket. "Oh, and Dad?" I asked. "Do you know you have a Holstein bull with a huge goiter in the east pasture?"
"No?" Dad was perplexed.
"Well, you do. He must have crossed a neighbor's fence. Did I mention the goiter? He has a goiter, or a tumor, or something. He's not the least bit happy about it." Can't say I blame the poor guy.
Later that day I helped Dad cut the bull from the rest of the herd, along with another smaller bull who was an apparent break-in accomplice. When I say "helped" I am referring to my aborted attempt to stay in the corral and hold the gate for the bull. Really, I was there for moral support. Also, I need to work on my clambering-over-the-manger-without-losing-a-boot skills.
Had my camera batteries not died I would have gotten video, complete with sound, of the snotty Holstein bull. His bellows and growls were constant, threatening and weird, and he spent most of his time -- a full day, as it turned out -- not just pawing the ground, but actually throwing dirt up and around in a circle, raining it down on his own head. He apparently liked it.
"Sparky, you've just seen the most dangerous animal you'll ever encounter outside a zoo," I told my little girl. "You don't need to be afraid of sharks or mountain lions or anything -- just this guy," I said, pointing at the bull, who was glaring at us through the fence, head lowered, hooves throwing dirt on himself.
"Him?" she asked.
Well, holstein bulls, specifically, I thought. More generally, young males in the wrong place at the wrong time with nothing productive to do and a bad attitude. And the goiter didn't help, I'm sure.
"You're not afraid of sharks?"
*"More" refers to tomorrow's post at my other blog, Reasonably Educated Bumpkins. It's about our trip to the Red Bluff Bull and Gelding Sale and there are photos of real live bulls! Or, there will be, once I get them off my camera. Make sure to stop by over there tomorrow.
Huh? Eating? Oh, yeah - that's what I would have used the knife for. Right.
And of course Smedley was being polite - she was paying me a COMPLIMENT! I think.
Posted by: Mantel Man | February 04, 2011 at 03:26 PM
Mantel Man, a steak knife? Youd eat a bull with a goiter?
And Smedley was just being polite when she said that to you, you know.
Posted by: foolery | February 04, 2011 at 03:10 PM
Just give me five minutes alone with that bull and a good steak knife...
Sparky is a comedienne, but Smedley is no slouch, either: "You've got a much bigger brain than I thought you had."
Posted by: Mantel Man | February 04, 2011 at 01:51 PM
Gramps, my readers comments make my day, every time. And that includes YOUR comments, of course. Thanks for coming by, as always!
Posted by: foolery | February 04, 2011 at 12:09 PM
Sounds good, boB, but can we dance to it? Sort of a Fooleryland requirement.
Posted by: foolery | February 04, 2011 at 12:08 PM
Rick, youve identified about half of the worlds problems in that sentence. And yes, I think we may need you for our national anthem. Talk to boB Cleveland. Hes got some good ideas.
Posted by: foolery | February 04, 2011 at 12:07 PM
Not sure WHAT he was thinking, Daryl. Thinking didnt seem to be high on his list of abilities.
Posted by: foolery | February 04, 2011 at 12:04 PM
I have gotten into the habit of reading all your readers comments, 'cause they are-----------.
really!!!!!!!!!!
Posted by: gramps | February 04, 2011 at 11:40 AM
If you're looking for a National Anthem for Fooleryland, may I suggest:
"I Kissed Her All Over and Left Her Behind for You"?
Something romantic but crude seems to fit.
Posted by: boB Cleveland | February 04, 2011 at 09:47 AM
"..young males in the wrong place at the wrong time with nothing productive to do.."
- Ya know -
At times I find it amazing that 50% of the worlds population ever lives long enough to reproduce.
....and that the other 50% seems to find this attractive.
.
Did I hear mention someone might be looking for a band to play National Foolery Anthems?
Posted by: Rick's Cafe | February 04, 2011 at 07:32 AM
I wouldnt miss that for anything .. and maybe that poor goitered bull was trying to take a dirt bath . maybe he thought all those cow ladies were at a spa??????
Posted by: Daryl | February 04, 2011 at 07:30 AM
CBW, since I broke a bone near my little toe in early November, I can wear only TWO PAIRS of my work shoes. Just bought a third pair, yippee. The weird thing is, theyre all heels (not stilettos, however). Big pain in flats. BIG.
And I agree that Sparky is pretty funny, without ever knowing it.
Posted by: foolery | February 03, 2011 at 07:05 PM
O.M.G.
Wait. You wear heels on Saturday?
Sparky has the best lines. Ever. (The apple doesn't fall far from the high-heel wearing tree.)
Posted by: Chesapeake Bay Woman | February 03, 2011 at 06:30 PM
Aww, Im sorry, Laurie Ann. And I dont have turkeys -- just chickens and cats. Get the fam to send you lots of photos. Less sneezing that way.
There will be a post with big fat buttery BULLS tomorrow, on my Bumpkins blog, as soon as I have photo-edited the shots. No sniffles involved!
Posted by: foolery | February 03, 2011 at 02:59 PM
Oh, Laurie. Your posts make me homesick...even though I grew up in town and am deathly allergic to most barnyard animals. My Grandma had a farm and my Dad and little sister live on one now. If you had turkeys, I'd be crying with lonesomeness.
Posted by: Laurie Ann | February 03, 2011 at 02:47 PM