Look at that layer of hard fat on Clyde! Cliff and I have finally figured out how to get good beef: Butcher a calf by the time he's a year old (Clyde was ten months) and leave him sucking Mom's milk until we take him to the butcher shop. He never had anything but milk and grass except for a rare bite of sweet feed, and a few protein bars in the winter.
Tomorrow they'll turn him into burger, roasts, and steaks, and by next Monday we'll bring him home. We found a cheap used deep freeze, so we won't be having to give any of that good meat away just to make room. I have, however, offered some of last year's ground beef to the grandson for a very reasonable price.
After checking out our beef, we went down to the Sni, where the water is touching the new bridge. The Sni Mini Mart folks are preparing for the worst in case the floodwaters threaten them.
Then we went to the Corp of Engineers park and watched the rising water of the Missouri River rush past.
Bonnie seems to be waiting for something. Clyde, outside the pen, doesn't care; his belly is full.
Oh wait, the door is sliding open. Clyde still doesn't care.
"It's about dang time somebody fed me," says Bonnie, with an impatient toss of her head.
"Yum, yum; I love hay, especially good hay."
Clyde, a typical adolescent, shows up when there's grub on the table. Hard to believe he's only seven months old. He has five more months to live, then he goes into the freezer.
But wait, why are the cows leaving their hay?
Range cubes, that's why. They like those even better than hay. At some point in the next couple of days, Cliff is going to turn the cows onto the new pasture. Then they won't need anything to supplement their diet.
is Clyde. I was going to have a fun little voting thing, but five different people have suggested Clyde as a name; so I have a feeling that would be the winner anyhow. Two people suggested Augie, because he was born in August.
So now I have Bonnie and Clyde.
