Tonight I broke a cardinal rule of farming.
There really aren’t too many of them. It’s not like there’s a published rule book for farming mojo. At least not one that I’ve ever seen. So I guess I could say that I broke the cardinal rule of farming.
I had the audacity to think to myself that I might just be able to wear my jeans a second time before washing them. Less than fifteen minutes later, they looked like this:
For the record, that’s manure.
As I was walking out to the chicken coop to collect the eggs, I hear lambs bah-ing with a seriously freaked-out tone and the feedlot cattle mooing and acting like fools. I then see a little lamb running around in the feedlot being chased by nearly grown cattle. The cattle weren’t trying to to hurt the lambs, they were just trying to play with them. I then spot another lamb in the back corner, cowering and basically so scared that it’s quiet.
So I start walking through some pretty serious amounts of manure chasing large steers off and trying to catch the one frantically running around bah-ing it’s little head off. I catch her and get her out of the pen and then turn my attention to the one in the corner who has once again gained a crowd of steers checking her out and trying to sniff and or lick her. However, one of the rowdier ones was trying to play with her and was bumping her with his head, getting more and more aggressive as she didn’t respond to his play invitations. I ran over there and shooed the cattle away from the baby, all except the big doofus that really wanted to play with her. I had to bop him in the face to get him to give me the space that I needed to pick her up. Now I wouldn’t encourage just anyone to go up to what is probably a thousand-pound steer and bop it in the face, but this batch of cattle are pretty friendly and I needed to get to the lamb so I bopped him about as hard as I would bop my cat when she is play-biting me.
The lambs are both fine and run away as soon as I toss them out of the pen, so I’m not too worried about them at this point. I can see them nibbling grass and watching as I try, in vain, to get some of the manure off myself. I only end-up getting more on my face and in my hair.
I get the lamb out, get myself out and assess the damage. The manure was higher than my ankle wellies but luckily it was fairly thick so it didn’t run over the tops, just went up my jeans a bit and made a total mess of my socks. My jeans were disgusting as was my t-shirt from picking up the lambs and carrying them. I smelled like a cess-pool and looked like the creature from the Black Lagoon. I stripped off my clothes the moment I stepped into the house and started a load of laundry. There are times that I wish that I could use scented laundry detergent and this was one of them…
I then took a very long shower and went to bed.
And this is what I get for thinking that I might end the evening with clean jeans….