*insert Benny Hill theme music

Here's the scene of all the mayhem yesterday. I'm sad because I don't have action shots from yesterday.

Yesterday was the day that we penned up the 4 beefs so that they'd be ready to trailer and transport this morning.

It was timed perfectly to coincide with lots and lots of rain. So untamed cows plus mud equals a perfect Sunday afternoon.

We withheld their feed (just their grain, not their hay, don't worry) the previous night so they'd be more anxious to follow a bucket of feed.

One cow in the corral... two cows in the corral... three cows in the corral... and the token rebel cow who just wouldn't cooperate.

Mark and Sam were doing the honors. I was peeking out the bedroom window watching the festivities.

After they'd been out there a while and that 4th cow still wasn't in the corral, and knowing Mark's timeline of escalation during animal round ups, I thought it might be helpful for me to go out to add another body to the efforts.

By that time, the notoriously rickety gate that was supposed to keep the horses in a separate pasture was knocked over by Mr. Nosey Admiral who couldn't bear to have someone messing with his cows without his supervision. Either that or he figured there was food involved.

So you've got Rebel Cow plus (mud plus manure plus whiz) plus buttinsky horses equals husband's rapidly approaching boiling point. Sam was assigned the blame for the gate. It was all "If you would've locked the gate, we would've been done by now!"

Then when I came out, apparently I distracted Rebel Cow who was "just about to go in!" And out the cow ran, bucking across the flooded creek. So strike two was mine. Eh, I'm used to it.

Also, ten years or so with my husband is enough time for me to know to keep my mouth shut, don't laugh, when I see my beloved leaping through the creek and falling as he chases a cow. Even though it was awesome!

We eventually abandoned the first plan & first corral for an "easier" corral on the other side of the barn.

It was a fantastic soup of poo.

Our goal was to run him into the opposite side of the barn where he could be easily shoo-ed through the barn to the corral on the other end of the barn with his buddies.

Sounds pretty simple, but of course he was having none of it, and we went round and round the little fenced in area for a long time.

Running through mud is a terrific workout! I refused to let him have one second of rest unless he was approaching the barn door, so every time he bolted back away from the barn, I'd have to go running back after him to keep him moving. Round and round the hay ring I went *

Long story short, with the help of a gate, a metal step ladder, and a feed trough we were able to herd him into the barn.

And I was only five minutes late getting Aggie to her basketball scrimmage. Sure I was covered in mud poo up to my thighs (I quickly wiped the 'mud' specks from my face) but I didn't have time to fix it. I offered to not make an appearance at the game, hide out in the car or even run home to change, but Aggie said it was OK. I figured we're not the only family with cows in this school district & I made sure to sit far enough away from everyone to keep the stink to myself.

The important thing was that the cows were where they were supposed to be. And Aggie got a basket!

Look, it's Rebel himself! I will miss my lovely baldies (white face beefs.)This morning's plan had been for Mark to go fetch Charlie's trailer and Charlie would follow with his big beautiful tractor to haul the trailer full of cows up to the level parking lot.

Unfortunately, Charlie wasn't bringing the tractor, so that meant my car had to fill in. Fortunately, Charlie brought himself and his overalls and his priceless brand of crazy.

Hello, Mr. Bedillion. I am delighted by these overalls. Delighted.

Workin' so hard this morning.Doin' farm stuff.Men folk stuff.With a side of crazy. Any job is more interesting with Charles.Aaaaah. So nice and dry from my perch in my bedroom. And how dreamy was it, as I waited for my car so I could go to work, to be home in the morning on a week day, house empty and still but for the hum of washer and dryer, folding clothes at my leisure, nobody there messin' stuff up. Gee, it was a shame to end that bit 'o loveliness.

Aw. More overalls.
It's "The Commander" himself. That's one of Mark's nicknames for his grandfather. Charlie in amongst his cattle brethren and sistren. Sisthren? Sistren. Sistahs!

Not Fluffy. I call her The Bunny for she is soft as a bunny.And a final farewell. I hate to see them go, and I'm glad I didn't ride along. And so went that spin of the cycle of life.

I love our cows!