Maternal Instincts

I turned a mama cow and her calf out from our birthing suite to the main pasture today.

The first part went okay. The cow politely exited the first pen like a lady. The calf chose squirrely chaos forcing me to use my mom voice to convince him that the giant open gate was, in fact, the correct direction.

The second half involved me “running” through ankle-deep mud while the cow launched what I can only describe as a highly personal, premeditated murder attempt. My version of running was more of a slow, desperate mud-shuffle while she thundered behind me like a freight train full of maternal rage. I reached the fence and scaled it with the exact level of athleticism you are imagining. Luckily, there were plenty of people standing around watching in case I ever need to be reminded just how graceful I can be.

I told you all that to say this: If your dad ever says, “Hey, since you already have your boots on, can you do me a quick favor?” that’s a great time to feign a gastrointestinal emergency.