I Was Bawled Out

I think I should get danger pay, or at least a new pair of running shoes. These days, new baby calves are being born daily, and we have to tag them so we know who they are. This morning, #52 was born, and she needed to be tagged. Chris came and asked for help so the mother cow wouldn't run him over. "If you use the John Deer Gator, you can keep her away" he said. Well, #52 cow did not care if I had a Gator, I could still feel the heat of her breath down my neck - I actually think I saw some flames coming from her nostrils. Old #52 couldn't decide who to run after - Chris on foot, or myself in the Gator. The calf wasn't helping matters, every time it bawled, #52 bawled back and came like a locomotive. The calf during this time, had been roped and tied so it wouldn't run off-probably the reason for #52's loving nature. In the excitement, I drove over the rope and got it tangled up in the Gator wheels. I thought, this is it-they will find body parts and Gator parts strewn across the field, and the only witnesses will be the other cows - and I know how they stick together, they won't talk. I said a quick prayer, and was able to inch the calf close to me by pulling the rope to tag it. When I got close to the ear of the calf, #52 came at me again, and I hit it with the tagger and she backed off a little. So Chris brought out the cow deflector (shovel) and every time she got close, she got a love tap. I got the tag in, and then Chris informed me of the radio tag (damned the Canadian Food Inspection Agency) that had to be put in. With the help of the deflector, that tag was put in as well. #52's eyes were getting bigger all of the time, as was her nostrils. We let the calf go, and they went on their merry way.
Only 150 more calves to go - perhaps I will write my last will and testament before going out again.