June 3, 2016
As usual, life distracts me from my horses. Yesterday, I distracted myself by going to the local auction in Waynesburg. Sometimes, I can pick up a nice horse to train. Today, I met my niece. Already she had bought a pot of flowers. I picked up a bucket of eight-penny nails and two four-foot gates. You would not believe how pricey a gate can be brand new. I always like to buy used when I can. Take my little Honda Civic two-door. I bought it from a friend who had it all but its first three years. Sixteen years old and running strong.
We watched the horses go through and a beautiful gold leopard appaloosa made me sit on my hands. Good thing it was not a mare as my Tennessee Walker stud would have had one more added to the field. It is so hard not to collect horses as they are like beautiful potato chips. I’m always sad when someone buys one, but, the fun is to go pick out another training prospect. The calves came up and a nice black Hereford stepped out. I had a set price in mind and went up to it. Calves always went higher then my price so imagine my surprise when I found myself a proud owner of a bull calf; only, guess what I drove to the auction. Now, my red-headed niece is laughing because she has to go the opposite direction of the farm. Guess what has to go in the backseat of the coupe and take a ten mile trip?
Luckily, we bumped in to a male friend with good arms. He volunteered to bring the calf out to us. While I cleared the yard sale stuff out of the backseat five people see my niece as she arrives with a “tux pad”, as she calls them. Usually hospitals put these under patients to catch any accidents. They are great for baby farm animals, too. So, here comes the farm boy with my calf and a big grin on his ruddy face. He does not hesitate to push the calf behind the back seat and slam the door. If I could have had a camera for the surprised look on the other people’s faces. It was priceless to say the least. My niece is laughing hysterically at this point. She says, “It’s all about the farm life.”
I smiled and said, “Gotta go. He’ll over heat.” Now, this is not my first offense for bringing babies home in cars. Usually it is the hubby’s Cadillac. Shh-h-h, he never reads these articles so I am safe here. Anyways, this calf is not laying down, instead, it is trying to see out the back window like a dog. I was glad I had left some boxes in the seat.
As I leave the auction behind I am thinking this particular calf might not be such a good candidate for a car ride. Last year a heifer, identical to this one, caused four hours of stress after she jumped off the back of the truck and raced out of sight into the neighbor’s fields. The story is under “Porter House Steak.” She is a yearling now. This guy might take a leap straight out of the car and off we go again. I better make sure the hubby has boots on this time, instead of slippers.
Well, the calf will not settle down and I am beginning to worry it might try to jump up and drive. I stretched my arm across the other seat and for fifteen anxious minutes drove down Route 218. Along the way the calf contented itself to lick the back seat and the box. I was afraid to roll the windows down all the way, even though my air conditioner had quit working. It was ninety degrees outside and one-ten inside. Then, I hear this paper ripping sound. It is followed by some slurping and smacking. The calf had found the newspaper on the floor and was quite happily eating it. Good thing it was yesterday’s news.
Once to the farm I drove up to my daughter’s trailer and grabbed her to aide in my adventure. Why is it when I need a camera to capture people’s expressions I am lacking it? I saw her puzzled look and said, “Good, you got your shoes on. Hop in and let’s go.”
My daughter is staring in disbelief at the hind end of the calf, “How?”
Without hesitating I replied, “We pushed. Now get in because we are going to have to pull this little guy out of here before he has a big accident.” I stopped in my driveway and instructed her to get the dog collar and rope off the porch. It is there for escaped goats.
I proceeded to drive my Honda through the yard. My daughter opened the gate I drove into the goat yard. I was glad we had dry weather because walking this little guy around the house might have been a challenge.
After some pushing on the backend and some pulling on the front; my coupe gave birth to an unhappy baby bull who was promptly named after his Momma, “Honda.” So that is how a Honda is born, folks.