LD, when I picked him up from school today: Ma! How many days are there in November?
Me: Thirty days have September, April, June, and NOVEMBER.
HD: That’s great. I should learn that.
Me: I have taught it to you.
LD: That means tomorrow is December 1st. We are going to Costco!
Me: Nope.
HD: Mom! We have NO FOOD. This is so unfair.
Me: Bummer. Maybe you shouldn’t eat everything ten minutes after I bring it home.
Look at me with my mean mom pants on!
***
Our farrier friend came over yesterday. And I say “farrier friend” because he is our farrier, but more so our friend. And do you know what a farrier is, Reader? Because I didn’t until we had horses. A farrier is someone who comes to take care of your horses’ feet, as if horses could not be more high maintenance.
He is at least 25 years David’s senior, but I do believe they are bff.
Even though I have been nagging encouraging David to get rid of the horses for some time, he has finally decided to listen to me.
Stand down, Reader! It is not like I hate horses.
Neigh Nay. (Yes, I know. That was dumb) I just don’t like when the horses bully up on my newborn calves. As they do. And we have no need for horses. No one here wants to ride them. Sure, the kids THOUGHT they wanted to ride them, but that proved to be a complete and total lie. So why keep two large creatures who only eat, poop, and bully precious calves? I ask you?
So, for reasons unbeknownst to all mankind, a fire has been lit under David’s toosh and now he is rehoming the horses. He called our friend/farrier over to come and take care of the feet, and of course, bond. Because, bff.
I do not know if farrier/friend wants to be mentioned in this blog. So we will call him FF.
FF came and took care of Chico and Ruby’s feet. And offered advice on the horses. Chico originally came from FF as a gift to the boys, and he will just take him back home. Ruby has some weird issues and should not be ridden, but she will be good for breeding.
When David relayed this news to me, I panicked.
Oh, yes.
Panicked.
Because did that mean we were going into the horse breeding business?
But then, Reader, I thought of my calves. And the calves are precious and gifts from heaven. So maybe foals will also knock my socks off?
But David does not want to breed Ruby. He has found a loving home for her instead. The horses will leave in the next few weeks.
About 2 years after I suggested it.
While FF was there, he assisted in the castration of two bull calves. Hadley and I were out there with them.
They decided to castrate the bull calf that was just born. FF is apparently a cowboy in real life, so he was just able to rope the calf and throw him to the ground.
Mama Cow did not like this one bit. Oh, no she did not. There was spit and snot coming out of her mouth, and she was stamping and mooing, and generally trying to communicate with us that she did not appreciate anyone roping her new baby boy and throwing him on the ground.
FF and David were on the ground with the baby. Mama charged at them. I panicked and wondered how I would go on as a widow.
FF looked at the cow, stuck out his elbow and shouted, “Oh, just go!”
Wanna hear something crazy?
She did. She just . . . went.
Then FF looked at Hadley and I and shouted for us to go and wave our arms and keep her away.
And.
It totally worked. We just stood and waved our arms. Oh, she was perturbed, but apparently when she sees a human waving arms, she knows she must chill.
She still wanted to kill us dead. But she took note of the waving arms and backed off.
Next, we asked FF to give his opinion on our cow, Maisy. David and I feel like she will birth any minute:
FF: She doesn’t look pregnant to me. But you never know!
I would like to take this moment to remind you that David and I, clearly, have NO IDEA what’s going on. Ever. The End.
***
Our dishwasher broke. David pulled it out to try to repair it, and in doing so, damaged the counter tops.
The dishwasher is still broke. Our microwave broke months ago. We now need new countertops.
And Maisy isn’t even with child.
Life. Not cheap.
***
Oh, and not to be boastful or anything, but . . .
Happy Monday!
FF says that cow doesn’t look pregnant??? Well, time to sell her then.
LD and HD need to learn to cook stuff they will eat. And that isn’t messy to make. Someday. Good Luck with the girl dogs.
Too bad about your broken kitchen stuff. Let us know when you figure out how to motivate David on paying for/doing the repairs.
Perhaps by now without a microwave you cook everything in the Instapot?
OK obviously I am catching up and am way behind on my blog reading, but I thought the same thing about your cow during the last post – not pregnant! Not because I am a cow expert (very far from it), but our yard is immediately adjacent to a small farm and red Angus calves end up in my backyard all the time. We are friendly with the farmer and asked when his one ENOURMOUS cow was due to give birth and he said she wasn’t pregnant but due to be sold shortly (two seasons, no babies). Color me surprised… I was really feeling for her, she was huge and looked miserable (as any pregnant woman is in the third trimester, of course).
I forgot to say, he told us he could tell by looking at her lady bits (not swollen). Ahem. I am not that friendly with his cows, let me tell you (although I have been known to pet a fuzzy baby head).