Joe's out of town tonight, judging FFA record books. He is happy to do so, as he used to be an officer in his "section" back in the day, and then did a lot with FFA as a part of his job as both a teacher and a state supervisor in agriculture education. He'll see some of his ol' buddies, talk to other professional agricultural people, and get away from the farm for an afternoon/evening.
(I'm on my own, however, so if the post is short and has some errors...forgive me. I have a baby infatuated with a small basketball that is biding me some time.)
Anyway, he had to do a lot of work before leaving this afternoon, because of our busy calving schedule. Chores that usually are completed in the evening had to be done early, on top of having a couple of new calves this morning, and one getting ready to calve as he was getting ready to leave.
Just as Joe put on his neatly pressed shirt and sparkling clean khakis, he took one last look at the pasture across the road.
The one where the four calves had gotten mixed up and gone the wrong way, thus ending up on the wrong side of the fence, separated from their mamas.
Now these are not the newest calves, but are ones that I would equate to a toddler. An "Amelia" aged calf...and if you have ever met our girl, she's a dandy. She marches to the beat of her own drum, and would, if given the chance, bust out of our yard to go conquer and explore the world.
Anyway, Joe decided he could probably just get in the truck and in his good clothes, get the calves back in the right spot, as it wasn't that far to go.
So, off he went, and we went on with our merry afternoon of playing and laundry.
A mere ten minutes later, a splattered Joe came marching back to the house, splattered with cow poop on his dress clothes. Just poor timing, he encountered the wrong end of a ripe calf, and there you go.
So, he knew he would be a few minutes late, but in his words,
"It is either clean khakis or cow poop, and these folks will understand."
I'm certain they will, and I have completed that load immediately, as who wants to have cow poop khakis?