Monday, July 28, 2014


Cliff has a lot of old pocket knives that I keep in a made-in-Germany stein that our son bought when he was stationed there.  Every single knife has a story.  Tonight we were watching something about knives on Modern Marvels:  Buck knives was mentioned, and the memories began.  I told Cliff that if he passes on to the great beyond before I do, I will be keeping the Buck knife that Boyde Dudley gave him one time when he was drunk.  Don't ask.  And then I told him that I'm pretty sure the kids and grand-kids would all like one of those knives as a keepsake. 

"They don't care about that stuff," he said.  

"Oh yes they do," I replied.  "They may not care about my grandma's stuff, but they will care about your stuff.  If the kids don't want them, a couple of grand-kids will."  

Then he lovingly picked up each knife one at a time and told the story about it.  The three on the bottom right are K-bar knives, every one completely worn out.  The third from the right on the top row is one he used to castrate pigs with, although he wasn't particularly fond of that knife.  The black one in the middle of the top row is the one I want.    

Every knife has a story.  I intend to put each one in a baggie with a note telling the story about that particular pocket knife.  I'm pretty sure somebody related to us will want one of them.  

Sunday, July 27, 2014

I promised a calf, right?

I'm sure you are all wondering, "Where's that calf you promised us?"

Yes, even relatives have been asking me that question.  Trust me, I am sick of having Crystal penned up in our front yard.  The other cows come up at night and keep her company across the fence, but when they go out to pasture each morning, Crystal bawls and bawls and bawls.  This has been going on for days now.  On the bright side, Cora has learned to say "Moo".  If I tell her to say moo, she goes to the window and looks for the cow, saying "moo" as she goes.  She's obviously a genius.

Here's the deal with the cow:  She got out onto the neighbor's pasture at some point.  When the grandson and Aaron went searching for her on a Saturday, I think it was, they didn't find her.  When they found her on Sunday, she was high atop one of the bluffs on the neighboring property, and although they tried to get her down to a place where it would be easy to cross the property line back home, she refused.  My daughter says that, as she remembers the story, they got Titan (the wonder dog) to sort of "sic" her and then got her to a point where she could come home.  There was no bull in sight, nor any cows, although the previous day they had seen the farmer's herd, and Arick had even taken a picture of them.  Crystal wasn't with them.  They concluded that she couldn't have gotten bred, since she wouldn't leave her perch.  When she came home, she was hungry and very thirsty. She obviously hadn't had anything to eat or drink for two days.

I watched for her to come in heat for weeks, and never saw her cycle.  That's when it hit me that she must be bred.  Even though she wouldn't go DOWN the mountain to Mohammed, Mohammed evidently came to the mountain.  But wait!!!!  What weekend was that, anyhow?  

I knew it was one of two weekends, three weeks apart, so I wrote both dates down.  If the first date was correct, she would be due sometime around July 21.  If it was the second date I wrote down, she would be due around August 10.  

It is still possible that she was bred on the earlier date:  I've had cows go as much as ten days past their due date, when I knew for certain the exact day they were bred (this was back when we used artificial insemination... God bless Emmett Kolster, who stored the Jersey semen I bought and came and bred my cows for free).  Otherwise, we may be waiting for another month.  And the baby can work on her mooing skills.