One of my favorite George Strait songs in that title, but it was an early fall chill on that last Saturday when we worked the calves. They were rather large, and in a mood. There was more snorting and dirt pawing than ever. As usual the heifers were more cantankerous than the bull calves. They were zeroing in on everyone. Even though the majority were only being violated by a vaccine needle, they were still having none of it. Guess you could call ’em anti-vaxxers.
The wind driving that chill right to the bone, kept it up the whole day. We did finally see the temp warm up to a cozy sixty degrees that afternoon. Sorting those momma cows from the momma to be cows, and the spring worked calves from the fall unworked calves took the biggest part of the day. By lunch we’d just finished the sorting process.
We finally put up the branding iron and opened the gates around four in the afternoon. It’s a good thing we were finished; both man and beast were too tired to carry on any longer. Any other time it would have been time to sit back and drink a cold one, but other than a few pulls on a bottle of Codigo, the day ended with some reflective conversation and a desire for a hot bath and heavy sleep.
It’s good to feel that deep worn tired every so often. It leaves a man with a sense of satisfaction; the knowledge that he’s done a days work, and he’s deserving of some down time. Everyone ought to get a chance to feel that satisfied once in a while.
I’ll leave you with a little King George.
