The Difference Between Tough and Stupid

It was another busy weekend - it's time to put my Christmas letter together and get serious in the gift buying department - but all the other jobs that need doing around here just don't seem to be letting up.

Glen had a few days off work this past week so he put the time to use arranging for a local contracter to come out and dig a well up on our quarter of pasture on 21. We knew that we'd find water for sure - there has been a well up there for at least two generations - but the cribbing was too narrow to get a decent sized pump down to bring the water up, and Glen wanted it dug deeper than the actual layer of gravel where the water is. They went down about eight feet into the clay so there will always be that many feet of reservoir to feed the watering trough when the cattle are all drinking at once.

With his next days off Glen wants to dig another well south of our buildings - again at a place he knows that there was a well before. His father talks of these wells and how they watered 100 head off them, even in the really dry years. We're trying to be as prepared as possible for the possibility of no run-off next spring, but along with everyone else who has cattle, we're praying for lots of snow as well. So far we've had one small dump of snow, and with the mild weather we're still enjoying, it's all long gone.

Sunday morning we brought all the cows in again and sorted out the cull cows which will be making the trip to the auction barn this week. We've been lax in this department the past few years, keeping cows that should have "gone down the road" long ago. A few are leaving because they are too old, some are feeders that have reached butcher weight, and one or two are leaving because of their disposition. One in particular, Crazy Cow, is taking that last ride because she is one dangerous Mama. On the one hand, it was too bad she had to go - she raises a wonderful calf - but on the other hand, you didn't dare take your eyes off her when you were out in the pasture. If you inadvertantly found yourself between her and her treasured calf, you'ld better be able to get back to the truck before she could get to you.

Glen is sporting a magnificent bruise tonight, compliments of loading a cow into a trailer this morning, and it wasn't even Crazy Cow that landed the blow. He started out the day with a nasty toothache (something that he's been let build since the middle of last week) but about 9:30 this morning he called me at work to say that his tooth wasn't bothering him hardly at all anymore ... since the cow had kicked him, his leg definitely hurt more! I'm betting they both hurt a lot. I think he's off to the dentist tomorrow morning (although he continues to say that the cow "cured" him, I saw how tenderly he chewed his supper tonight), and I've seen the leg - it's going to be a technicolor beauty in a few days. He has commented more than once that "if he would have known he was going to last this long, he would have taken better care of himself." I've pointed out that maybe he could maybe start going easy on his poor old body even now, but what do I know? He says "A man's got to be tough." I say that there's a pretty fine line between "tough" and "stupid".