Thursday, November 18, 2010

Boys Will Be Boys

Last week, we had an extra helper with one day of the great cattle round-up. We had weaned their calves the week before, but now it was time to haul the cows home to be preg-checked and then released onto milo stalks.

Jake's little boy, Trevor, didn't have school. When the day care plan fell through, Trevor got to help with cattle duties.

Just because Trevor wasn't in school doesn't mean he didn't get an education that day.

Trevor's favorite job was throwing out hay to entice the cows to come from the north pasture into the smaller pen.

The ploy worked.

In the beginning, he just tossed the hay over the side of the pickup.

By the end, he was heaving the hay like he'd thrown the ball in t-ball earlier in the summer.

It was like a trip down memory lane for Randy, who remembered the days when Jill and Brent were curious about everything. The first grader had question after question.

How come you have to put them in the pen? (So we can move them.)

Why do you need the truck in there? (So we can haul the hay and get the cattle to follow us into the next pen.)

They sure are big. Will they run over me? (Not as long as you stay in the pickup where you are supposed to.)

Why do we have to move them? (Because it's fall and the grass in the pasture is just about gone.)

Why do they like that hay? It's scratchy. (I guess it tastes good to cows.)

Do they have names? (No, the only ones that have ever had names are the kids' 4-H bucket calves or 4-H market steers.)

How many are there? 74 mama cows.

Why does Randy get to ride the 4-wheeler? (Yeah, why does Randy get to ride the 4-wheeler ... uh, I mean ... Randy gets to ride the 4-wheeler so he can round up any stragglers.)

Why are those bulls fighting?

Because boys will be boys ... whether they are bulls jockeying for position or little boys curious about life.

Of course, there was the inevitable question before we were through with the task.

"Are we done yet?"

Yes, boys will be boys.

And farm wives will be farm wives. Are we done yet?

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