This past Wednesday afternoon I was on the phone with my dad wandering around having a nice little chat when I heard Bridget making some very unusual moos. I watched her for a while and she was just running around the fence mooing like mad. For a moment I thought it was some peculiar way of seducing our yak bull. I had a nice little chuckle. I got off the phone and soon realized I had a loose calf. I stopped laughing. Brisket was terrified and running around all frantic on the wrong side of the fence and mama Bridget was just as frantic on the right side of the fence.
Dylan wasn't home and I, as mentioned earlier, was just wondering around having a nice chat. This means I was lounging about in shorts, a tank top and flip flops. Not ideal attire for chasing cows through the bush and the mud. Despite this I climbed that barbed wire. I'm not good at climbing barbed wire so of course I cut my leg a number of times. I chased him around for a while thinking I could get him back through the fence. Turns out, a calf is faster than me. I also lost two pairs of shoes in the horrendous mud. You may be thinking, "Rachel, why when you got the second pair didn't you put on a pair of boots?" To that I say, " because I am the queen of dumb moves."
I tried a new approach. I sat down and he came over for scratches as he usually does. While I was cuddling him I had the brilliant idea of just picking him up and putting him over the fence. Again, dumb move. So the thing about picking up a calf is that if they're very young, that's all good. If they're four months old, it's not good. I got my arms around him, and surprisingly was able to get him off the ground. Which is when the shit hit the fan, or more literally my legs. He kicked up a storm, made some scared calf screams which of course made Bridget lose her mind. So now I've got a calf in my arms about an inch of the ground, a mama cow that is going to come through the fence and skewer me, poop/mud all over me and I came to the realization that if I'm struggling to get him off the ground an inch, I'm not getting him over our fence. So I put him down. He ran away.
New approach.
I went and got some oats. I also got a dog leash. Still no boots. Still running around the mud and bush with bare feet. ( So many dumb moves) he came over for oats and I got the leash around his neck. For some reason I thought I could just walk him through the fence. Hilarious. I could not. Once he realized he was being led he jumped around, kicked and ran like hell in the opposite direction, me dragging behind. I let go.
New approach. Wait for Dylan.
These are my legs while I waited for Dylan. So glamorous.
This is Brisket, with Rockys leash around his neck.
This is the distance in which I had to move him. Only a few feet. Which made my endeavour all the more frustrating. So close and yet way too far.
Finally Dylan arrived home and he held the fence open while I led our baby Brisket through the fence. With two people it took approximately four minutes and was pretty much hassle free. My Queen of the farm ego bruised beyond repair. Also my body.
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