Tater Tot Taco Salad

Saturday was cow butchering day, and every cow butchering day makes me think that is it the Lord’s will for me to become a vegetarian.

On the Friday night before, David and a couple of kids were doing some sorting to make sure things would go smoothly the next morning. The cow to be butchered was put in a pen nearer the bull, yet not with the bull.

Whenever the bull is around his *ahem*, lady friends, he acts all sorts of ridiculous. He truly should be embarrassed.  It’s almost as if he is yodeling of his love to them.  And I wonder if it impresses the old gals? They certainly don’t look enchanted. He was acting in such a way and that prompted one of my children to say this sentence to David:

Child:  Dad?  Is that cow hot?

David:  Huh?

Child:  The cow.  We are about to butcher.  Is she hot?

David:  I don’t understand.

Child:  You know.  Does the bull want to . . .

David:  Oh!  You mean is she in “heat?”

Child:  Yeah.  Same thing.

Anywho.  Doomed cow was what we in the biz like to call, “open,” which means she was not with child.  Which is exactly how I want her to be on the eve of cow butchering day.

Then it was the  butchering time and I had to avoid looking out any window and listen to the dogs bark/howl because they knew David was being way more fun outside than I was being inside.  I tend do a lot of dusting and laundry.  Very lame.

Because of the hot-high-heat, David wanted to skedaddle on to town to get the cow to her final resting place and didn’t have time to adequately clean up the place.

So this is what Norman looked like all morning.

Please be jealous of my life.

David came home and tidied up but left bloody paw prints on the porch and I was all no-nonsense-y and INSISTED they get cleaned up before we went to the river.

And they did.  And to the river we went.

It is all we ever do now.  Go to the river and kayak on the river.  In the hot-hot-sun.

Kate fancied taking Niko with her.

Niko enjoyed his float for exactly 2 minutes and 37 seconds.  He then cried the rest of the time.

We don’t have cell service while camping, and this has never happened before, but while we were on the river some texts came through on my phone.

?

And one was from a neighbor letting me know that some of my cows were out.

!

So we hustled and bustled and started for home and as soon as we got into service, David’s phone literally blew up with 17 text messages and 4 voicemails regarding our cows and their grand adventure.

Reader.

Our ENTIRE herd had gotten out.  The ENTIRE herd.  And our neighbors worked tirelessly to gather and corral and herd them back for us.  While we were sitting in kayaks on a river, oblivious.

We came home, embarassed and grateful, to cows behind our fence and many, MANY, many cow patties in our driveway.

Me:  Well.  Now that I know a bunch of neighbors were here, I am surely glad you washed off the bloody paw prints off of our porch.

Everyone was hot and tired and fussy.  Our utility trailer had a blow out and it doesn’t even phase us anymore.  David and HD set to trying to repair the gate that had loosed and released the ENTIRE herd.  I went out with a notebook to take cow inventory to see if I could figure out if anyone was missing.  And I checked and consulted with records and am happy to report that I am 92% sure we have everyone.  Then I made Tater Tot Taco Salad and all was ok again.

You may say:  Taylor!  What is this Tater Tot Taco Salad you speak of?

Well.  A long time ago, when I was a newly wed, I used to read Taste of Home magazines.  We were poor and I was a terrible cook and we didn’t have four ravenous children, such as we do now.

I used to love reading the entries in the Taste of Home magazine.  They would highlight a recipe and include a delightful anectdote from someone named Ethel in Kentucky.

“Every time I make this hamburger casserole, my  husband and boys ask for seconds.  Sometimes thirds!”

“My homemade lasagna is all the talk at the church potluck.  I always make sure to have copies of the recipe on hand to pass out!”

And I would sit and stare at this magazine and wonder what it would be like to be so confident in my meals that I would intentionally bring recipe cards assuming all the peoples would want to cook just like me.  And what would it be like to be a wife and mother so cherished that her hamburger casserole was taken two or three times by her loved ones?

One day, I came across a recipe from some lovely gal named Eleanor, entitled “Tater Tot Taco Salad.”  And I made it and it was loved, but I will never, ever, bring to a potluck with recipe cards.  Because that seems presumptuous.

Because it has been so hot, the cows are all fighting over the water trough and the little ones don’t always get water when they want it.  The mama cows are totes selfish and will drink water first and not care if a little baby wants a sip.  The babies are all still nursing, so I am thinking they are still getting enough fluids.

But not my Hazel.

So, now I give her a water bottle or a bottle of water with a small amount of milk powder in it.  And I am happy to report that she absolutely loves me again and tried to nurse from my shorts.

So all is happy in my world.

And in case you were wondering about cow inventory:

1 (yodeling) bull

24 cows

19 calves

1 steer for meat (sad)

And lastly, but not leastly, here is a cute picture of Maisy’s calf.

Her tail looks like that because she was passing gas.

Happy Tuesday!