Monday, June 30, 2003
Another day of work is over. Most of my work has been inside so far, which is a major blessing considering the endless, indiscriminating assault of CA solar flares. (More on that another time.) :) I'm sooo glad I'm not driving herd in this weather! I'm afraid the combination of the heat, dust, and maddening pranks of the cows would break the limit of human endurance :P...(I worked on a cattle ranch a couple summers ago, and those cows could sure be rascals. Want to know how? Check it out. :) No worries if you don't understand all the jargon in the dialouge...I think you'll get the main drift ;)
Bovine Blunders
The metallic snap of the fence stretcher pulling the rebellious high tensile wire into line announced the near completion of our cow-containing contraption. I gazed down the hill surveying our project with satisfaction. On my right was a row of stout t-posts with five strands of glaring barbed wire shouting insults and taunts to the livestock population in general. A tire-buck served as an anchor post. On the left side of the road towered a stack of tractor tires packed with boulders that served as an anchor for our fence on that side of the road. It loomed over five and a half feet tall and must have weighed around half a ton. My brother and I had spent several hours constructing the monstrosity.
"That's one mother of a rock-buck," I commented.
"You better believe it," my brother Jered responded. "Those dorkess bawlers won't be coming trough this section of the fence anymore. Especially when we get the juice on."
"No joke," I replied. "That'll be nice. No more repairs for me!" Just a couple of days earlier I had watched helplessly as a bull flattened a ten-foot section of fence that I had just laboriously reconstructed. His impetuously exuberant effort to join the rest of the herd in greener pastures was far too successful much to the mutual dismay of the fence and myself. The open gate a few yards away added to the general repugnance of the situation.
"Hey Kody, hand me those fencing pliers. Soon as I get this hooked up we can go turn on the power," Jered interrupted my vengeful recollections.
A minute later we were in the dusty Nissan jalopy heading up to the powerhouse accompanied by choking clouds of dust. I tried hard not to think about where the dust came from as I saw one of the fatlings from the herd relieve itself a few feet from the road. The calf looked much like the one I'd seen break through the fence not long before. I wasn't sure though. They all looked the same. Jered and I had been working our way up a stretch of fence from the back 200 when we saw the pitiful thing running up and down the road bawling for its mommy. Evidently, like so many of its little friends before, it had squirmed through one of the ubiquitous holes in the fence and couldn't find its point of entry ere came suppertime. So what better thing could it do then to call for mommy to come to the rescue? Mommy however was a trifle portly for the hole in the fence and not gallant enough to brave the spikes, so what better thing to do then commence a boisterous demonstration in the vain hope that the young errant would come back.
My brother and I kindly assumed the role of bucolic liberators to guide the prodigal home. We naturally promoted to usage of the straight and narrow gate but the rebel fatling had other ideas. It seemed intent at finding the original spot where it had forced entry. I faced the insurmountable job of converting the young heretic to forsake its erroneous intentions. Meanwhile a general pandemonium broke loose among the herd. Spurred by the mother cow's prating loquacity, they seemed to think the field more verdant on the calf's side of the fence and eagerly crowded around the gate mooing in useless expectancy as my brother prepared to open it.
I was in no better position. I was faced off with the stripling of future jerky with an irrigation ditch between us. The calf had no intention of moving as long as I stood on the other side of the channel. It cocked its head at a curious angle as it analyzed my predicament. Unfortunately for both the calf and me, I couldn't just step over the ditch. I took a run at it and launched myself over. The calf's eyes bulged in terror and it spun a 360 sending a cataract of mud and sod in my direction. Its hasty flight was abruptly aborted as it encountered a small hollow immediately subsequent to its about-face. Anterior struts buckled at the unexpected drop in elevation, and the poor creature plummeted into a much deserved pummeling of its facial features. Posterior shanks kept tilling the soil. A sodden thud of jaw hitting ground precipitated an unwanted toboggan ride down the hill on its bulbous snout. Snorting as much from embarrassment as to clear the grass and mud from its clogged proboscis, it galloped straight for its mommy. I'm convinced it was mainly out of spite that the little malevolent critter decided to make a new hole in the fence to commemorate its reentry to the herd.
Such incidents were the chief reasons for installing a hotwire on this stretch of fence. Replacing the half rotten cedar supports with some solid rock-bucks and posts also contributed to effective containment. After turning on the power, Jered and I returned to inspect the wire and check for shorts. A pulsating sizzling snap accompanied by flying sparks spat at us as we grounded the hotwire to a t-post.
"Nice. This will learn 'em," Jered commented.
"Merrrrrahhhh" sounded angrily from down the fence line announcing another groundout of 110 volts; this time via livewire to wet nose to swampy ground. Some eager fence flattener must have had its foraging plans thwarted. My brother grinned at me from the other side of the fence. "Did you hear that?"
"Yep,"I chuckled. "Sounds like one of those beballouses just drank some juice to go along with its breakfast. That's quite the potent beverage."
"Jolly good vitamins for you darlin'. Drink it down, reh reh," Jered mocked. We both laughed. Cow quandaries were far from over, but it felt great to get the last lick in for a change.
¶ 10:37 PM
Bovine Blunders
The metallic snap of the fence stretcher pulling the rebellious high tensile wire into line announced the near completion of our cow-containing contraption. I gazed down the hill surveying our project with satisfaction. On my right was a row of stout t-posts with five strands of glaring barbed wire shouting insults and taunts to the livestock population in general. A tire-buck served as an anchor post. On the left side of the road towered a stack of tractor tires packed with boulders that served as an anchor for our fence on that side of the road. It loomed over five and a half feet tall and must have weighed around half a ton. My brother and I had spent several hours constructing the monstrosity.
"That's one mother of a rock-buck," I commented.
"You better believe it," my brother Jered responded. "Those dorkess bawlers won't be coming trough this section of the fence anymore. Especially when we get the juice on."
"No joke," I replied. "That'll be nice. No more repairs for me!" Just a couple of days earlier I had watched helplessly as a bull flattened a ten-foot section of fence that I had just laboriously reconstructed. His impetuously exuberant effort to join the rest of the herd in greener pastures was far too successful much to the mutual dismay of the fence and myself. The open gate a few yards away added to the general repugnance of the situation.
"Hey Kody, hand me those fencing pliers. Soon as I get this hooked up we can go turn on the power," Jered interrupted my vengeful recollections.
A minute later we were in the dusty Nissan jalopy heading up to the powerhouse accompanied by choking clouds of dust. I tried hard not to think about where the dust came from as I saw one of the fatlings from the herd relieve itself a few feet from the road. The calf looked much like the one I'd seen break through the fence not long before. I wasn't sure though. They all looked the same. Jered and I had been working our way up a stretch of fence from the back 200 when we saw the pitiful thing running up and down the road bawling for its mommy. Evidently, like so many of its little friends before, it had squirmed through one of the ubiquitous holes in the fence and couldn't find its point of entry ere came suppertime. So what better thing could it do then to call for mommy to come to the rescue? Mommy however was a trifle portly for the hole in the fence and not gallant enough to brave the spikes, so what better thing to do then commence a boisterous demonstration in the vain hope that the young errant would come back.
My brother and I kindly assumed the role of bucolic liberators to guide the prodigal home. We naturally promoted to usage of the straight and narrow gate but the rebel fatling had other ideas. It seemed intent at finding the original spot where it had forced entry. I faced the insurmountable job of converting the young heretic to forsake its erroneous intentions. Meanwhile a general pandemonium broke loose among the herd. Spurred by the mother cow's prating loquacity, they seemed to think the field more verdant on the calf's side of the fence and eagerly crowded around the gate mooing in useless expectancy as my brother prepared to open it.
I was in no better position. I was faced off with the stripling of future jerky with an irrigation ditch between us. The calf had no intention of moving as long as I stood on the other side of the channel. It cocked its head at a curious angle as it analyzed my predicament. Unfortunately for both the calf and me, I couldn't just step over the ditch. I took a run at it and launched myself over. The calf's eyes bulged in terror and it spun a 360 sending a cataract of mud and sod in my direction. Its hasty flight was abruptly aborted as it encountered a small hollow immediately subsequent to its about-face. Anterior struts buckled at the unexpected drop in elevation, and the poor creature plummeted into a much deserved pummeling of its facial features. Posterior shanks kept tilling the soil. A sodden thud of jaw hitting ground precipitated an unwanted toboggan ride down the hill on its bulbous snout. Snorting as much from embarrassment as to clear the grass and mud from its clogged proboscis, it galloped straight for its mommy. I'm convinced it was mainly out of spite that the little malevolent critter decided to make a new hole in the fence to commemorate its reentry to the herd.
Such incidents were the chief reasons for installing a hotwire on this stretch of fence. Replacing the half rotten cedar supports with some solid rock-bucks and posts also contributed to effective containment. After turning on the power, Jered and I returned to inspect the wire and check for shorts. A pulsating sizzling snap accompanied by flying sparks spat at us as we grounded the hotwire to a t-post.
"Nice. This will learn 'em," Jered commented.
"Merrrrrahhhh" sounded angrily from down the fence line announcing another groundout of 110 volts; this time via livewire to wet nose to swampy ground. Some eager fence flattener must have had its foraging plans thwarted. My brother grinned at me from the other side of the fence. "Did you hear that?"
"Yep,"I chuckled. "Sounds like one of those beballouses just drank some juice to go along with its breakfast. That's quite the potent beverage."
"Jolly good vitamins for you darlin'. Drink it down, reh reh," Jered mocked. We both laughed. Cow quandaries were far from over, but it felt great to get the last lick in for a change.
¶ 10:37 PM
