This past weekend saw us indulge in a little stay-at-home catch up. For one day at least. The girls saddled up Saturday morning and headed out to gather cows whose baby calves needed ear-tagging.
After the first half hour spent complaining about having to wear helmets, we settled into routine with Sally calling the shots. Wallace (whose mare was out of action), chauffered me on the quad,
allowing me to survey the scenery, call directions to both dogs and children, and reprimand the boy for leaving the house in a short-sleeved shirt.
While Dad picked up round bales, we easily herded breeders, never far from the molasses troughs. With Sal taking the lead,
the older girls kept the tail wagging.
At some point, as they started moving off, Sally who had been relegated to the lead, because nobody else's horses like being in the lead, ended up in the middle of the mob.
Not quite the desired position for the lead rider. But a good giggle for Mum on the tail. And fortunately these old darlins were most accommodating, moving aside, letting her make her way back to where she should have been. Lucky Dad wasn't around.
This little bub was found in long grass not far from the mob, obviously planted there by her Mama.
We cut her Mama back from the mob, to leave her with her baby.
Unfortunately, she had other ideas and soon caught back up with us. Cow and calf were re-united later in the day, baby calves knowing to stay exactly where Mama puts them.
Everybody enjoyed being back on home turf, if only for a day of working cattle. Sunday we returned to Bottle Tree, put the remaining bulls out to work and were home very late, Sally lamenting the fact that we don't have real weekends.
What's more real than this, I say?