I was surprised to see her in the feedlot the other morning. I locked her in and went out to eartag her calf. I found him resting above the creek. He was not asleep, but watching me. I started to straddle him, and he threw me off, bellowing. I’m not sure who was more startled. I followed him, tagger in hand, laughing.

He turned around, roaring - and started head butting me. There was no way I could hold him, and I was getting my butt kicked. Or at least I was getting my legs butted. He was getting madder and I was laughing harder. He gave up, ran away, and started flinging himself into the fence. I tried to get him away from the barbed wire, but he was too wild. I walked back to the pickup and watched as he headed north, still slamming against the fence. When he reached the open gate he was still bellowing. He didn’t need open gates, he went through the next gate, continuing north. Then he headed west across the new plank bridge. That floored me. I’ve spent plenty of time trying to convince cattle over bridges. Some will never cross, preferring to swim. They at least like to give you a hard time about it. This calf wasn’t twenty hours old and he’s heading to Red Lodge on his own.

I went and let Mrs. 49 out. Her calf was no longer on my place. I thought that if she’d look for him, after much bellowing - there should be a reunion. I drove over to my father-in-law’s, and turned Rocky around. He was still making all kinds of noises. His mother was beyond the fence, across the pasture, on the opposite side of the creek loudly searching for him. I was behind him, making my best baby calf noises and calling for bossy. She completely ignored us, even though she could see and hear us. Her calf was not where she left it, and that’s all she knew.

The calf was on a mission - he had to get away from me. He went east through the fence into the pasture. I ran back to my pickup, watching as he ran the fenceline. I had my fingers crossed that he wouldn’t go out on the lane. I drove into the pasture behind him. He spotted my pickup and scrambled over the ditch. I got out and tried to head him northeast to mom on the opposite side of the creek. He turned around and stared at me, a long string of blood hanging from his mouth. Then he ran straight at me. I ran straight at him yelling. He decided to turn tail. Thank goodness. I would have hated to have to explain all this to the 911 dispatcher.

Go rest high on that mountain
Allan, your work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin’
Love for the Father and Son

Oh, how we cried the day you left us
We gathered ’round your grave to grieve
I wish I could see the angels’ faces
When they hear your sweet voice sing

Go rest high on that mountain
Allan, your work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin’
Love for the Father and Son

(lyrics “borrowed” from Vince Gill)

This cow had a calf when I went out at six. She was licking it, and I left them alone. Except for the two dozen other cows in the pen. At seven she was taking care of two calves. I kicked everyone else out of the pen at that point. She is being a good mama, has accepted both calves, and they know what to do. I will keep them separate for a while.

Another cow calved, the clutch went out on my orange pickup, and one of my father-in-law’s heifers at the feedlot had a calf, too. I penned them separately, and they’re doing well. Sometimes, some things work.

Actually, they were watching me. This photo was taken last month while I was breaking a trail for them to cross the creek. The drifts were huge and rock hard.

It was fifty degrees Fahrenheit here today. There’s still ice and snow, plus some mud now.

The girls should start calving the first week in March. I’m playing catch up. My taxes are also due on the first. I’ve yet to figure out my aversion to getting that done. I can’t blame it all on my computer woes. There are a few other disasters brewing, but I’ve grown accustomed to that.

And we do. Sugar found a broken toy this morning that I had to toss for her. She doesn’t care how cold it is. We were finished checking cattle, so we played until my fingers were frozen.

1 : negligent in the performance of work or duty : careless

2 : showing neglect or inattention : lax
synonyms see negligent

— re-miss-ly adverb
— re-miss-ness noun

I don’t think it’s neglect, inattention - perhaps. I have been busy, so this little blog of mine doesn’t shine. Honestly, everything internet and computer related has suffered. My iMac died after six months. It wasn’t sick, didn’t have an accident, it simply crashed. Can anyone explain that? Why does Apple only have a 90 day warranty? Inquiring minds want to know. I was not overworking it. I am using my old Dell now. I use the internet when my modem works. Which is about half the time lately. Forget about printing. Oh Brother, it works as a copier, but I was using it with the mac and can’t find the installation cd. What made me cry about this? Six months of photos gone with the wind. I know, I didn’t put them anywhere except iPhoto. Yes, some of them made it to flickr, but you know how many photos I take. Too many.

January was hectic. Sugar and I traveled to Casper. I used cruise control, so we met no law enforcement officers. The toaster behaved very well. I would have liked to have visited Casper, but my time was limited. I saw my room, a takeout window, a gas station and the hotel that the meeting was at. It was business, no pleasure whatsoever. I probably wasted my time and breath.

My home is known as ” the place where vacuums come to die.” This has something to do with three dogs, one cat, a lot of dirt, and a woman who does not enjoy cleaning. I used to call it bad vacuum karma - but it goes beyond vacuums. My two year old washing machine was out of commission for a couple of weeks. I even went to the laundromat. Finally, the plumber had some time. Right after that, the thirteen year old dryer quit. I don’t find clothes frozen solid on the line amusing. Then I decided to give a water softener a try. The water is incredibly hard here, which creates unique problems. When the tech came out to put the softener in, he found that needed some plumbing installed before he could. Another job for the elusive plumber. That was done and the water softener was installed. The next morning my basement was under water. That’s the fourth time since June. At least this was soft clean water, not mud or the usual irrigation ditch water. Another tech came out and helped cleaned up the basement.

The following morning I went into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. I had heard the airplane. Coffee makers are traditionally short-lived here. They die messy deaths. I took one look at the counter, and made myself a cup of tea. It was too early for bourbon.

I replaced the solar fencer last winter. It was ancient. No matter how new the battery was, it had seen enough sun. It was at the company for weeks before they determined it was time to let it go. I paid dearly for the young one, and it worked well. Until I hooked it up this year. Dead as the proverbial doornail, they just don’t make them like they used to. I put the electric fencer out with an extension cord. I knew that it was working, once I got it grounded properly. The brand new fence tester I bought wasn’t working, so I used the time-tested-testing method. Snap! Then the power went out. When did this happen? The day after the Cuisinart cratered. I lit some candles, found a flashlight, opened a bottle of beer and feasted on crackers and canned cheese. Didn’t want to keep opening the refrigerator.

Even though this has become “the post that Word Press and my browser kept chewing up” and it took me two days to complete -

Life is good.

The Sunday before Christmas, a friend and I went to Cody. As soon as I crossed the state line, I said to Nada, “I have to remember that I’m in the Cowboy State.” We were talking, and I wasn’t paying attention to the speedometer. Not long after, I saw the cruiser lights behind me. I pulled over, fumbling for my license, registration and insurance card. Actually, I couldn’t get my license out of my wallet, it was in there so tight. The police officer was very young and very serious. He asked, “Do you know why I stopped you?” I said, “How fast was I going?” Apparently 47 in a 35 is not a good thing. The officer went back to his car with my papers. I had never been pulled over before. Oh, I’ve been a passenger in vehicles that were pulled over more times that I care to admit, but I was never stopped while driving. I was wishing that I hadn’t recently viewed Super Troopers. The thought of the movie was making me laugh. When he came back to my car, he wished me a Merry Christmas and asked me to slow down. I apologized again for not paying attention, thanked him and also wished him Merry Christmas.

Not long after, Sugar and I traveled to Billings. I was just getting up to speed out of Bridger, singing along with the radio. I noticed a Carbon County sheriff vehicle make a u-turn. I was being pulled over. Once again, I got my papers together as the law enforcement vehicle sat behind me with lights blazing. Deja vu. The serious young deputy asked, “Do you know why I pulled you over?” I asked, “How fast was I going?” He replied, “You were going eighty, and the speed limit is seventy.” I said, “Oh. I’m sorry, I was singing with the radio, I was not paying attention to my speed, and I was only keeping up with the rest of the traffic.” He shook his head and took my documents. He sat in his vehicle behind me for what seemed like a long time. When he came back he handed me a written warning and told me sternly, “Slow down!”.

So, if you are passed by a toaster in Montana, I swear that it isn’t me. I have been re-introduced to my cruise control.

From the top of the hills on yesterday’s afternoon hike.

Hoping that 2008 will be a wonderful year for all of you.