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Monday, June 16, 2008

Ignore her.

The wind was blowing in the opposite direction for them to hear me. Typical Kansas wind howling passsed, dampening any sound that would dare try to go upwind of it. Of course they wouldn't hear me, but that wouldn't stop me from calling out. I walked out into the field, a bright red coffee can in one hand, being shook, so that the creep could be heard. Yet the sound of the creep was going against the wind as well, and only those that stood to the north of me could hear the sound.

I walked closer, until one of the ladies looked up. She spotted me, and didn't care, but when she saw the can she high tailed it over to me. "good girl Edie" I praised and walked to the barn. Her muzzle pushing at my side, and the back of my arms as I tried to keep her out of the bucket and lead her to the station. As we got closer to the barn, she realized what was expected of her, and she took off in front of me, then paced in the station waiting for her treat to be poured into the feeder. With Edie content, it was time to round up Momma.

I crossed behind Edie, patting her rump so she wouldn't get startled. Edie watched from inside the station as I got more creep for Momma. She watched as I walked through the goat pen, and back out in to the field, and something snapped in her head. The contents of the bucket must taste better then what I had poured into the station. Edie took off out of the barn, and ran full speed out into the field to greet me. I quickly place the bucket under my shirt. Sure I looked a sight to the neighbors, but Edie couldn't see the bucket. She pushed on my hands, looking for what she could smell. I reprimanded her to no avail.

With the wind still blowing, I had to walk out further to get Momma to see me. Once she did, I had to revel the bright red can so that she could see it. Edie saw it as well. Momma ignored me, but Edie slowly became frustrated and desperate. I continued to push her away, telling her NO! We swung around in circles, playing a rousing game of keep away. "Station" I tried to yell over the wind. "Go to the station Edie" Nothing was working, she knew that the bucket was better. The next thing I know, her horn takes a swipe at my bucket hand and side. The bright red can flies through the air, and she runs to were the content has been spilt. I stood there staring, and the past few weeks of frustration and physical pain came bubbling to the surface. "You fat cow!" I cried out, as tears welled up in my eyes. As I walked past the goats that bleated at me for my neglecting to love on them, and the chickens that made a fuss because they too know that what was in the bucket was better then the feed they got, tears streamed down my face. My arm throbbed and turned bright red from where the horn had hit me.

I walked into the house and my husband spied my tears. I told him what Edie had done, and showed him my arm which has become swollen. "I hate cows" I pouted like a five year old. My husband smiled at me. I shook my head,

"My pride hurts more then my arm."

5 comments:

Anita said...

Wonderfully written... I've never had to deal with cows on a daily basis - only helping out once in a while with friends, so I don't know a lot about them, but they never seemed to be to be one of the smartest animals on the farm...

Envoy-ette said...

Bless your heart! I hate dressers. They attack me weekly, as my bruised side can confirm!

The Fool said...

Yes, it often pains us more to bear the burden of our expectations for ourselves more than anything else.

You're still head and shoulders above the crowd, Phelan. Hang in there.

Kathie said...

Oh sweets, After reading the last two entries, I just want to bring you a box of chocolate cookies, because you know chocolate makes everything better. Take care of yourself.

lisa said...

It usually takes something frustrating like that for me to get in the cry I already needed for some other reason. Maybe Edie knew you needed to vent...or she's just being a greedy brat! Got any of that Crown Royal left? ;-)

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