Sh&t Happens

I’m canceling my Throwback Thursday post to tell you a story…

After gathering the mountain on Monday, the cows and calves had spent the night in what we refer to as the Horse Pasture, reflecting its history as a paddock where horses had plenty to eat, but were easy enough to catch when needed to ride.

Tuesday we were up the mountain and ready to go by 7 am and the Horse Pasture was gathered.

Standard procedure is to separate the cows and calves, returning the cows to the Horse Pasture and leaving the calves in the corral. They’ll hitch a ride down the mountain in a semi to begin their “grownup” status.

Now, I’m going to take a slight detour in my story… and create a poll. I had this discussion with Victoria the other night. As many of you country folk know, we often deal with slick substances… but which is the slickest?… grease on the shop floor… March ice, melted and refrozen… wet bentonite stuck to appropriately named Muck boots… Victoria’s vote for the slickest substance is for afterbirth on the floor of the calving shed. It has a double layer quality and often is hidden by the bedding straw. My vote was originally for a fresh cow pie, though I did end up agreeing with Victoria… What’s your vote? Or do you have others? I grew up with that homespun saying of “slicker than snot”, but that doesn’t usually happen in great quantities, so it doesn’t really compete. You can put your vote in the comments.

Back to my story. Brandon and I had taken up positions by the gate with our sorting flags, letting cows trail by us and out the gate, while discouraging the calves by holding the flag in their faces. For whatever reason, to block a calf or give a cow some space… I stepped back and out with my right foot. Straight into a fresh cow pat. My right foot went sliding, there was no recovering it. My left knee went “pop” and down on my back I went! I must be honest… my favorite curse word does begin with “sh”, but all I could say was “ow, ow, ow”. Followed by “that was the silliest thing to do, ow, ow, ow”. Then I realized I was laying there in a corral full of milling cattle. In a burst of self-preservation, I rolled over to one knee, but I couldn’t go further. I opened my eyes and saw only that I was surrounded by pairs of boots and they grabbed my arms and helped to my feet. Or foot. I sure didn’t want to use the other one. (And, no, I didn’t land in the poop!)

I spent the rest of the day sitting on a bench, watching them sort cows and visiting with Reagan. I rode down in the side by side, thankfully, it was there, as climbing into a pickup seemed impossible. The next day was Preg Test Day… our biggest work day and no one available to take me to the doctor. So while everyone was working their butts off, I was in the recliner with ice packs and the tv. I wasn’t hurting until I tried to walk.

Today’s trip to the doctor showed nothing with X-rays. People seeing me, of course, had all the same question… what did you do? I tried to be creative and develop a fun storyline, but I’m rather bad at that. One nurse did tell me that not that many people can say they’ve been injured by slipping in cow poop! I suppose that’s true! I’ve ended up with a brace. Thankfully, I have plenty of crafts to do… but ranch work will have to wait for a while. It’s the pits, but sh&t happens!

Find me here!

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