Thursday, March 24, 2005

That's slick.

It was a James Herriot kind of morning.

We went to a farm for a problem with a calving, but it turned out that it just needed pulling. As the calf's feet and head were peeking out, I asked if we should bring the wheelbarrow over to catch him in. "No," said the herdsman, "You can just catch him. He'll only be about 100 lbs." Sure! No problem! 30 seconds later a very slimy, furry, 78 lb beef bull calf came sliding out into my arms. I managed to keep him off the ground and just as I was losing my grasp on the slippery little sucker, I flopped him into the wheelbarrow and he started to wriggle around and breathe. We hung him over the fence to shake out some of the gook from his lungs and poked a stick in his nostrils (apparently, this helps?). Fifteen minutes later the little guy was happily nestled in a heap on some bedding and his mom was licking him off.

I then discovered I was covered in all manner of slime and went in search of my back-up coveralls, and the day continued...


At 10:30 PM, March 27, 2005, Anonymous Anonymous said...

All you needed to top off your story was a wash with a sliver of un-lathery soap, a burlap sack to towel off with, and the entire story taking place in subzero temperatures :)



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