Within an Inch of Her Life:Part 2

     Last week I described to you how wonderful Wednesday ended for me, let's go right into Thursday.

     Another day of mowing grass and chomping up weeds.  Two sections of pasture were left before I could move to the West side of the acreage.  

     Yellow rays of sunshine were cascading down upon our farm this morning.  My first and immediate task was to locate the calves born the day before.  Summoning my amateur calf bawl, Cows 131 and 149 came running, right to calf 149.  

     Standing twenty feet from the calf and assessing that they were both calm and the calf was lazily climbing to his feet, I pulled the truck beside him and put a tag in it's right ear.

     Texting a photo to my husband with the words, safely and efficiently, he responded with, "How did I know?"  Without saying it he warned me to be careful and that I knew what he meant before leaving for work that morning.  Cow 149 was taking extreme security measures the evening before which did not allow my husband to tag her calf.  I didn't want to pass up an easy opportunity and I just love that I can accomplish it.

     Driving around the field, bawling, I could not summon Cow 131 to show me where she hid her baby girl.  Beginning with the section farthest from Calf 149, I began cutting grass.  Finishing I moved to that patch, again calling to Cow 131 and she will not give up her location. 

     Sighing, I cut the entire rectangle gritting my teeth, my body so tense that my shoulders were up to my ears and my eyes darting right and left constantly.  Assuming she hid her somewhere in the grass that I had cut the day before and I'm not able to see her, I move on. 

     Driving into the hay lot, I decide to clip the little bit of grass that

has grown up through the chat rock before moving onto the West ninety acres.  Unable to recall if there are any large rocks in there, I raise the mower deck a bit to be cautious.  

     I could only drive forward and back up to each fence line instead of turning around due to space.  Backing up for the last eight feet stretch, I shifted into forward, let the clutch out and hear the dreaded sound.

     For the second day in a row, I hit the PTO with my fist as I braked, idled down and threw the tractor into neutral with a plethora of emotions swarming over me.  I'm not sure how I exited the cab so quickly or how I did not stumble as I shuffled to the rear of the mower.  As I neared the fence, I saw her. 

     No. No, no, no, no, no.

     Her eyes tell me she has passed, but she looks perfect.  I instinctively reach out and her black hair is hot from the sun and her heart is beating ferociously against my palm.  I hope against the odds as a mere thirty seconds pass by as her heart slows to nothing.

     Looking her over, I find only a quarter size, "nick" on the back of her head.  As I pulled the mower forward, she had raised her head from her slumber.

     I'm sick with despair.  I took the very life that I had worked so hard to save the day before.  Sitting on the tire of the mower, my heart feels like there is an anchor tied to it.  This is not the first farm animal tragedy, but it is the first dealt by my hand.  It is not just the unnecessary life taken, but each farmer understands that a dead calf does not pay the bank note. 

     There is nothing left that I can do.  I tell her and her Momma, "Sorry bout that."  and climb pathetically into my tractor seat. 




 I was on a nineties music kick that day, my mouth fell open as my ears pick up on Ozzy Osbourne's voice singing these words, 

 "These are your final days.  See you on the other side."

    

 Shit. You. Not. 

 

 

   

   Ozzy's Song

Within an Inch of Her Life

     Finding myself in the tractor on Wednesday, I had a few hours to clip our lush pastures.  A bit late in the summer for us due to the heavy amounts of rain we've had this season.  My previous two weeks had overwhelmed me so I welcomed the monotony of circling those green fields.  

     Although I believe my son gets his mowing skills from his Mother, because when I bore of the same section, I move to another for a change in scenery. 

     The day was bright and sunny, I was working outdoors and I crank up the IPod because I am in a "I can do anything" type of mood.  I slip on my sunglasses, not because I need them in a cab tractor but because I think I feel cooler with them on as I vibrate the windows of the Kubota with some classic rock.

     As I make my turns I leave the easy sections for last.  Making a few passes, I happen to glance from watching the edge of the brush hog in my drivers side mirror, to the front tire.  Simultaneously stomping on the brake as I punch the yellow PTO button, I stare into the tall grass.

     The massive tread of the black tire are within an inch of

chewing into a freshly born black calf.  Backing up a bit, my mind is still in "Surprise!" mode as I step down the metal rungs into the hot pasture.  We aren't due for our first Fall calf for a minimum of three weeks.   

     Approaching her, I scan the fields for any sign of Momma while I nudge the calf with my foot.  Nudging harder, it still is not moving.  Bending down I lift her to her feet while my eyes are darting left and right ensuring that I do not have an angry cow with me in her sights, I realize this heifer is unresponsive.  She is hot with only slow, slight movement in her eyes.  Oh dad gummit!

     I bawled many times and Cow 131 trots within fifty feet of us and acts like she doesn't know this is her calf.  Leaving the baby where she lay, my only assumption is to get her to the shade.  Trading the tractor for the truck, I'm wondering how I'm going to lift her onto the tail gate.  Four heaves later she is partially up there and I shimmy until she is fully loaded.   In hind sight, I should have just loaded her right onto the top of the brush hog.

     Unloading was a tad easier.  Momma doesn't want to have anything to do with her so I rub on her body, trying to get a response.  I then make a 20 minute round trip home and back, toting a bottle that I forced down her gullet.  Instantly I heard her belly grumble as the milk made contact with her tummy.

      Thirty-five minutes later, a third of the bottle was down her and she refused any more.  I rubbed her all over again and I found her

little cow eyes were no longer glazed over.  She called her Momma, weakly and I said, "I"ve done all I can do."  I continue to mow the grass, doing a "drive by" every so often.  An hour and a half later I see her swaying beside her Mother, suckling. 

     Ahhhhh............this day could not have gone any

better.............until I look over and I see Cow 149 crap out a calf of her own and stare as it hits the ground and immediately rolls off the back of the pond bank!  It landed a few feet below her in culvert of sorts and we both gawk in disbelief.  Cow 149 was the first to recover as she called out to her offspring. 

     I did try to pull it out of it's predicament, but I had a hormonal, angry cow try to charge off the embankment at me and I thought, "Let's end this day well."   I'll come back later with reinforcements to check on these two.  

     And that I did.   A couple of hours later when we checked both sets of cow/calf's, all was well with my day. 

     I am proud of this day because I have a fantastic teacher, who is patient and sees my eagerness to learn and who rarely puts boundaries on what I can attempt alone.  I have watched and listened for four years and felt I knew how to handle the situation without calling for help.  

     What I see is progress in myself and that I can have a boss, who is also my husband, put his trust in a herds woman, who is also his wife.

 Carey's Twitter

     

Book Review: Restless Angel by Sue Stewart-Brown

     So there is this woman, whom I have known for many years, not well, but when I viewed a post on Facebook from her daughter, about a book she had written, my immediate reaction was, "Say what?!!!" "Get out!"  I had to read the entire post to see what was up because I was excited and intrigued by this new knowledge I had.

     We all know her as Sue Stewart-Brown from Cuba, MO.  Grabbing my ipad and clicking on my Kindle app from Amazon.com, I searched Restless Angel in the "books" category and sure as the sun shines there she was with a listing of her very own!

     

Description:
Corrine James is a successful career woman at the point of burn-out. Looking to simplify her life, she starts with a leave of absence to find her focus. Hundreds of miles from home and on a whim she decides to take a job cleaning and cooking for a handsome cowboy and his family. Tyler Drake has seen his share of trouble in his life, but he has carved out a peaceful existence for himself and his "family" on his ranch in Montana. A widower with a son and two old cowboys for help, they are all quite satisfied with their lot in life. Other than the fact that someone has been trying to sabotage Ty's ranch operation, the men appear to only want for a decent meal. Their backgrounds and histories could make for them being at odds with each other, or it could draw them closer than they ever imagined.

     From the first chapter these characters had me enraptured.  Probably because I relate to them, but I know when a book has really gotten my attention because when I'm sitting at baseball practice, aggravated that I have forgotten to bring my ipad because I'm wondering what is going to happen next between Corrine and Ty!  

     Finding myself giggling because I can feel Sue's humor coming out in these characters, I loved that she wrote about what she knew, what she has experienced.  I could sense that she drew some of her story from our little town and loved it.  I believe I was in such awe because I actually know Sue, but had no idea she could write so well. 

Here is my review on Amazon.com:
     Well written with great flow of storyline! Couldn't wait to finish & loved the allure of passion without being a smut book.

     In asking Sue how she chose to write a story like this her response was: As far as what prompted me to write these types of stories, they are the ones I like to read.   I never like the stories where they separate the couple, where they put them with another person for a while (for any reason) or where they write explicit scenes.  (Yeah, I'm one of those old women who never read Fifty Shades of Gray).  I like a happy ending and I can't imagine ever writing something where the couple doesn't end up together at the end of the story. 

     Sue has been writing for thirty years or so, but like all of us, got busy with being a mother/wife and was not able to concentrate on it.  Restless  Angel began over thirteen years ago and finally came to life this year!  

     I want a sequel and in asking Sue if that will become a reality she stated:  Ty and Corrine have been so well accepted that I feel I need to write a couple more that include them. I pray before I write and I know that God has tried to lead me to write something wholesome!   

     I highly recommend this book and I believe it deserves to be read by many.  It should definitely have a higher price tag attached to it.  My only suggestion is that Sue should have hired me to photograph a cover for her.  I'm sure we could have scrounged up a rugged cowboy from Crawford County to be her Ty!

      For her sequel,

Who would like to volunteer? 

     You can order directly from Amazon.com, paperback or downloadable version. Link Restless Angel  

You can find Sue on Facebook and Twitter if you have any questions for her.

Revelations from a Tractor Cab

      Tractor Time.

       Listening to the BS stories in the feed store, I hear many "good ole time" stories about driving the tractor down by the river, in the fields, hauling hay or the tractor unintentionally ending up in a location not normally meant for large machinery.  Then there are others that view it as a place they must spend time while they finish yet another task on their To-Do list.

     There are so many things that little space does for me.  It can be an escape from the daily grind.  From house chores, whom no woman/man thoroughly enjoys, I don't care how much you say you do, we know you are fibbing.  It is time alone to think or not to think at all.   Most of the time there is minimal signal on my phone, therefore, the calls asking or telling me what I must do when I leave my voluntary confinement, have to wait until I end my day and drive up the hills when the cell signal will reach me.

     My husband had a fit when I started attempting farm chores directly after finishing my time in a wheelchair of sixteen months.  He also noticed the determined set of my jaw.  He closed his eyes so he could hide how he rolled them all the way to the back of his skull and sat down with me to form a safe plan.  We now have a tractor with a cab(thank you!), one that the clutch is easily pushed to the floor, easily shifted into a new gear, has heat/air and an air cushioned seat.  I did not ask for all of these amenities, but if this is what my husband concludes is safe for me, then by all means I will accept.

     Because I did not walk much until my third year of recovery, my time in the tractor was limited.  Once I got there, I could only climb in and out two or three times before my ankles would collapse.  We practice rotational grazing on our home farm, so this was a challenge as I would have to open and close gates to reach my destination.  Many of my adventures were me sitting, looking out the back window, then at the cows, estimating if I could complete my duty before any cows found the opening, which meant I could mark one climb out of the cab off my list if I did not close the gate.  There was a time when I estimated every length of a walk and how many steps it would take to get there, so saving any amount of extra effort was mulled over.

     My farm pardners are inexplicably patient with my injuries and amount of time it takes me to complete my endeavors.  They are also patient when it doesn't work out so well and I send them a picture of my "Oh shit, this happened today".  Amusement at my texts while they are in meetings, me questioning why I simply cannot figure out how to hook certain machinery together or understand why it will not start because a particular lever must be in a certain position beforehand.  I have flipped off every piece of farm machinery we use.  When you have been performing these functions for much of your life, you take for granted the elementary check list you go through each of these times, but for someone like me who is in the field alone and I remind you, very little signal ( no "how to" YouTube videos) it can be purely exasperating!  I grew up with a 1936 Continental tricycle tractor, then to my husbands 1970's John Deere and I was always deemed the driver not the hooker upper.  

     Today though, I can almost always figure things out and am at the point that I can utilize my hours to rid my mind of any conflicts or use it to interpret those conflicts.  There are days when I just

want to sit in the silence of the cab, let the drone of the engine or swish of the tedder, take my thoughts to nowhere specific.  Plugging in my iPod, I may sing anything from Alabama to Nelly to White Snake, inadvertently conducting my own concert right here in rural America.  I do not know what the cows think of me or my singing, namely because I do not speak cow, but they say the same dang thing every time they talk anyway, so who really knows.  

     Those other days, I speak to myself from the time I enter to the time I leave that tiny space.  Working through my personal struggles, praying for peace and understanding and hoping my life continues in the wonderful direction it is traveling.  Society conveys that we must look to others to be the hero in our life, while I agree that life is made easier with the support of others, I believe we can all be heroes in our own lives.  We, as individuals, are at the helm, right?  We ultimately decide what direction we are going to take, whether we will get up and make it a great day or drown in the sorrows of our dark thoughts.  Hardships are put in our way, not to stop us, but to call out our courage and strength.  Our character is always up to us.  As I sit in the middle of a field, I smile at once again having a focus besides recovering from my injuries.  There is one thing that I crave the most from these times, one thing that I must have in my life to survive and that is accomplishment.  I cannot live without it, I must have a purpose.


    
      Whether I have a grand revelation or not, at the end of my farm day, I always appreciate that I am going to be A-Okay.  If there is one piece of advice that I will  pass on to every farmer, man, woman or child, it is:

Always. Close. the Gate.

    

Developing Future Leaders, One FFA Member at a Time

     Many schools enjoy an FFA or Agriculture curriculum, that is if it can still find funding.  Many misinterpret this program as just a livestock or "blow off" program.   There are some, I'm sure, that use it for those purposes, but then there are some that take a deeper interest  and learn this programs motto and it's core values.

     We ended the school year in 2016 with many banquets/ceremonies and the FFA Banquet was among them.  Our two oldest children are involved and will sit in an office position starting next school year.  Each member played a part in the ceremony, relaying to their audience, the FFA creed and motto.  My husband and I listened to their words and wondered if each student took the time to really read and recognize the magnitude of what they were communicating to us.  Not likely, I know, as each member was just trying to get through their paragraph eloquently.

The FFA Creed

I believe in the future of agriculture, with a faith born not of words but of deeds - achievements won by the present and past generations of agriculturists; in the promise of better days through better ways, even as the better things we now enjoy have come to us from the struggles of former years.

I believe that to live and work on a good farm, or to be engaged in other agricultural pursuits, is pleasant as well as challenging; for I know the joys and discomforts of agricultural life and hold an inborn fondness for those associations which, even in hours of discouragement, I cannot deny.

I believe in leadership from ourselves and respect from others. I believe in my own ability to work efficiently and think clearly, with such knowledge and skill as I can secure, and in the ability of progressive agriculturists to serve our own and the public interest in producing and marketing the product of our toil.

I believe in less dependence on begging and more power in bargaining; in the life abundant and enough honest wealth to help make it so--for others as well as myself; in less need for charity and more of it when needed; in being happy myself and playing square with those whose happiness depends upon me.

I believe that American agriculture can and will hold true to the best traditions of our national life and that I can exert an influence in my home and community which will stand solid for my part in that inspiring task.

     Breaking that apart, I interpret several key factors:

• "actions speak louder than words"
• we learn from our predecessor's achievements AND mistakes
• that we can actually enjoy an activity Outdoors and not just an activity that involves our thumbs (PS3/smart phone)
• respect for ourselves and others
• independence  
• community involvement

     These members learn a plethora of skills that they will take with them to the path of college and into adulthood.  Some of the key components in the FFA motto are to promote self confidence, intelligent choices, team work, human relations, social interaction, positive attitudes, encourages excellence, builds character, volunteerism and citizenship.   This group of individuals still proudly state the Pledge of the Allegiance!  

     So as my husband and I sat on the cafeteria seats and watched our daughters receive their awards, we couldn't have been more proud that they chose to be involved in the FFA Chapter  at St. James High School.  Using this program to it's full potential will instill our youth with quality leadership skills and many will develop the confidence to become competent, young entrepreneurs while utilizing the proficiencies they learned by being involved in this wonderful organization.

     Why wouldn't we want them to join this program?  These youth are our future leaders, let's teach them that hard work, compassion and independence is not a trait of the past!!!

Motto

The FFA motto gives members twelve short words to live by as they experience the opportunities in the organization.
Learning to Do, Doing to Learn, Earning to Live, Living to Serve.