Developments on the job front: a girl was fired for not showing up, so I'm working her shifts this weekend. Including the 3 AM Sunday one.
I'd just like to take a moment to point out how large cattle really are. When driving by a pasture, it's easy to assume they're not all that big. But my friends, things change when you're in the midst of them, goading them with phrases such as "Walk up, girls!
&*$%ing MOVE, ladies!!", knowing they could squash you through the fence like a cookie cutter if they wanted to. And being at eye level with the knees of those who aren't particularly happy that day? FANTASTIC. Promise.
Let's not even talk about the Brahman crosses. Here's a little agricultural math from a Southern gal:
Angus (British breed)
Brahman (Zebu breed, native to the Indo-Asia area--very heat-tolerant [it's that big freaky hood] and pest-resistant)
Brangus. (Big fella. King Poppa. A beef cattle farmer's best investment.)
The Brahman-cross at our dairy isn't half-and-half, but there is undoubtedly a Brahman influence--probably crossed with Holstein (the stereotypical black-and-white moo-cow). She has floppy ears, and she's quite a bit more docile than the rest.
This is my job. I don't rag on your job blabber, so y'know...listen up. Y'might learn something.
For every iodine stain on my teat-dipping hands, there is quite a few perks:
One of these little cuties suckin on my finger.
If you've never had it happen, you don't know how endearing it is! Playing with the calves in their hutches before work makes everything better. If only they didn't bawl so whenever it's time to go to work!