Old McDonald... I am not...

I have come to the regrettable decision that I am just not cut out to be a farmer. In fact, I fear for the safety of livestock were they to permanently live at my house. Why is this you ask?

Last night I got up at 12:45 and I could hear the cows making all kinds of noise. Wanting to avoid a repeat roundup situation I slipped on my sandals and traipsed outside to see what the problem was.

You want to know what the problem was?

Huh?

Huh?

Do ya?

Well join the club because I'm still wondering the same damn thing!! All that tromping through wet grass at 1:00 in the morning and the only thing I could find was a bunch of cows screaming at each other from different sides of the fence.

Makes you want to throw objects at their heads doesn't it?? (See, I told you I would fear for their safety!)

So back inside I went to remove my wet socks and stumble through our darkened bedroom trying not to wake up Jake in my quest for new, dry socks all the while cursing those stupid cows and their stupid noise making.

This morning when I got up there were still four or five of them standing on the feeder cow side of the fence bawling at the other cows. So, I counted. All 14 that belong with the bull are with him. So, best I can figure these feeder cows are in heat and were calling to the bull for some sweet midnight loving. (Crap... family site... kids, that just means.. well hell.. I don't know, ask your parents!!)

Speaking of parents, hey Mom & Dad, you can come get your #$^& cows now!!