Drove around Miami for a little bit yesterday (Aug 09) and out near the football field I saw some cows and calves trying to rest in the shade. The heat was ferocious and they didn't like me disturbing them.
Some got up and moved away, but I wanted to take a pic of this little guy:
He looked at me warily as I slowly moved closer to get a better shot; I used some optical zoom but managed to cut off a bit of what could've been a pretty decent photograph. I think I cut off a roast, but wished I had cut off a T-Bone. Literally. Mmmmmm...
Just kidding. He was just too cute.
I moved a little closer, and the other two calves that were nearby went back to the one, as if to tell it "C'mon, let's get outta here!"
The two left, but the single stayed behind, scared a little bit, but curious enough to wonder what I was doing.
7 comments:
I should have worked in "beefy" in there somewhere.
lol, with those cute faces and long lucious eyelashes how could you ever use "beefy"?
The farm I worked on during my college years raised polled herford. Nice breed of cattle but I never knew they ere suited for the hot dry weather down there, I always thought of them as a northern breed.
Ethan, the farmer always kept a herd of "girls" and would lease a bull for the summer months to get them all rebred. Then he'd sell off any male offspring.
He was really more of a gentleman farmer a retired army colonel and high school math teacher. I loved getting him to talk about politics or WWII. He was really a smart man and had some pretty strong opinions about our country and it's leaders, past and persent.
He very rarely sold any of his "girl" and knew all the lineage of his little herd. They all had pet names too even though he usually kept about 25 or so.
Love the pictures Mike
Have a funny story about Ethan's cows. His main pasture was an old apple orchard. He kept it pruned (so did the cattle, lol) and it still bore some decent fruit, but you had to climb for it. Old varieites that you just don't see anyone growing anymore. One was a Northern Spy that made great pies.
Late one summer I was out there with a sack tied to my belt, wanting to just pick enough apples for a couple of pies. When the herd saw me head towards the apple trees they all started drifting my way. They knew that I'd probablly shake loose a few apples and any they'd get to gobble up any "drops". I was only just starting to climb up when I could feel a tug on my sack. I yanked it free, then I felt the same tug on my pantleg. With out looking back I shook my leg free and threw a couple of kicks backward, to discourage whichever cow it was who was trying to grab me. I wasn't worried about hurting any of them, they have pretty thick skulls.
When I looked back it wasn't one of the girls I'd kicked it was the bull. He did not look amused.
Let's just say I stayed up in that tree a little longer than I had planned and when I did climb down I didn't walk back to the distant gate, I beat feet for the closest fenceline and hopped it.
I knew a man who raised polled Herefords but I know nothing about their climate adaptability. We've got a fairly new dairy farm outside of town and I believe one or two others have tried and failed around here. I know it's close to the rail line, major roads, plenty of cheap feed and all that but it's so darned hot.
Yesterday was just one of those horrible hot days and every creature I saw, except the horses were in any available shade. I wanted to take a pic of an old bull under a big mesquite tree but they were working on the road at that time and were watering the section where I needed to park.
Great stories, esp. the one about the bull keeping you up the tree. I love old men such as your farmer Ethan; they've such great stories to tell and we could learn from them if we'd only listen. ("we" being society in general)
I'd love to be a "gentleman farmer" but I wouldn't raise much more beef than I'd butcher for myself. I'd want chickens and some fruit trees and a big ol' garden and maybe some rabbits. I'd prob. have a pet hog, but wouldn't eat him, maybe a female, breed her now 'n then, sell the babies to be able to feed her.
I'm oil field trash, but we raised a beef or two while I was growing up, mostly cripples that Dad would buy cheap from some nearby farmer/rancher that figured it wouldn't live. I'll never forget the day we butchered "Tripod".
That's also the day I learned the lesson that all farm kids learn at a much earlier age, namely that one doesn't name something one will eventually eat.
It was a great farm to work on. Ethan had served in Europe during the war and was convinced we shoiuld have kept going and taken Russia when we had the chance. He was also no fan of the UN or the Trilateral Commission. I loved he and his wife Maisy like they were family.
When Ethan passed away his wife called and said he wanted me to have his horse. He had a fancy old American Saddlebred brood mare he bred several times to sell off her colts and also to ride. He and I used to take long rides together, just let the horses poke along while we talked and talked.
He always raised a few sheep and butchered a few lambs at the end of every summer. Always had hens too and a pair of geese. Other than the beefers and the odd lamb just about every other critter on that farm got to live ot a very ripe age. Heck, he even had a hen there that he brought home as a chick from school, some science, hatch a chick experiement. It was the only white chicken in the flock, the rest were Barred Rocks.
Those few yeras I worked there were some of the best of my life. Except for throwing hay bales when the truck load got too high I was in heaven.
That's funny, I'm not a fan of either of those two, esp. the UN.
With the 20-20 hindsight that history lets us have, I'd have to say his sentiment about invading the USSR is, although one shared by many, not realistic.
By that time the US public was already over-weary of war and published casualty reports; not long after FDR's death, around the time Iwo Jima was taking place, the country was in a severe financial bind to boot. I honestly don't think we could've bankrolled another war, not and occupied the other defeated enemies as we did. We would've had to enlisted their aid and trusted them just after we had whipped 'em.
I'm in a political forum where they were discussing FDR just the other day, along with Lincoln, many stating that both presidents were BAD for the country. I don't go nearly that far, but I think both made some horrible errors and sent us down "wrong paths" even though they both WERE great men; FDR was too chummy with Uncle Joe, for one.
Personally, I agree with how Churchill felt, namely that we should've given more aid to Britain and let Russia bleed the Motherland dry against the Nazi war machine, kill two birds with one stone.
FDR, though, if nothing else, was an astute politician and it's my opinion that he thought he couldn't push Stalin too far or he'd push him into a negotiated peace with Hitler (again). I understand that even if I disagree with it a bit. Then again, I've got that hindsight.
Boy, once Harry Turtledove started getting successful, EVERYONE wants to re-write history, huh?
I can dig it about the hauling hay. I was thinking, the last time I was out near the Canadian River, remembering back when I used to haul hay down there. It was beautiful country, large meadows full of perfect rectangles of hay in straight lines, surrounded by lovely old cottonwood trees, all kinds of wildlife, picturesque...
...and hotter 'n the hubs of hell, the sun peeling the hide off of any exposed parts of your body, the hay getting in your eyes, under your armpits, down your crotch, in your boots...the sweat getting in your eyes, under your armpits, down your crotch...etc.
No wind at all, the old cottonwoods are blocking what little breeze can reach the river bottom, the rattlesnakes that sometimes get baled up with the hay (oh boy, that's sumpthin' to turn over one of THOSE bales.) the clouds of insects that must be like one of the Plagues of Egypt in Biblical times, swarms of biting gnats so thick you can barely breath, horseflies as large as small sparrows but bite like a scorpion.
I'll NEVER do that again, never. I probably COULDN'T do it again, not physically able, but you couldn't force me to do it nor would I ever seek that type of work.
Nope, I'd hold up a farm and ranch store first before I'll ever haul hay again.
Esp. not for 2 1/2 cents a bale, rather be in jail.
Scorpions don't bite, but I think you know what I mean.
Post a Comment