Choose your occasions to ‘hooraw’ carefully

We are a beef raising family, not the Old West cowboys; but we are into the business of handling rogue cows, unhappy bulls and hauling off dead carcasses. We enjoy most of the work or I reckon we would be doing something else. Bear in mind, I said most of the work.

As that old country songgoes, some days are diamonds and some days are coal. I suppose we had a load of coal delivered to the place yesterday. Our covered working area is fi nished, and it is wonderful; but you know a feller can’t cover all the pens around the barns. We have some lots that are almost ankle deep in mud where hooveshave churned it to a thick liquid.

The offspring have been methodically sorting the weaning calves for a month now. We want to feed the heifers and steers together again since the fi rst bunch made such a nice boys’ and girls’ club. It is hard to not sort by sex, and so we have spent a while doing this. We will keep the calves until they weigh another two to three hundred pounds and use our grass to get them to that weight.

That is another thing to consider. Will the beef fi t the box if the carcasses are twelve hundred pounds on the hoof? I like big cattle,big T-bone steaks, and, because I am the so-called boss, we are gonna do that.

Well, the mud got another good shower on it during the night, and I knew I needed to help sort the last of the weaned calves regardless of the conditions of the working area. I put on the old rubber boots that are almost knee high and carefully folded the denim and worked the legs of my britches down in the boots. I had rather do a multitude of jobs that require regular boots, but the title of boss gives me no options.

We got the positions fixed, the oldest offspringon the gate, the youngest offspring in the crowding pen with me. I was being so narrow minded as I culled the bunch, just wanting to send the best to the feedlot, and not thinking about my footing when the bunch turned around and shoved me off my feet. Not one hoof hit me, and not one hoof spared me the mud attached to it as they fl ew over me. I was into and covered with manure mud and did not know just how I was gonna get up! Amid the laughter, I assured them I was alright and needing help to rise from the pit.

It is my opinion, and everyone has one, hosinga dear parent down should be done very carefully and with compassion. The mixture of properties forming the mud had become akin to glue, and I was not inclined to giggle about the incident and least of all while trying to get the muck out of my ears! Take the advice of a man who has been there: Do not think the incident will go without repayment. Some day when they least expect it, a reminder will be brought upon them! Choose your occasions to ‘hooraw’ carefully.

Bill is a pen name used by the Gravette author of this weekly column.

Opinion, Pages 4 on 11/13/2013