Friday, May 6, 2011
It worked. She came. She saw.
Now I should mention here that my Dad raised Polled Herefords. The breed known for their gentle dispositions. Oh, and also a breed that has no horns.
They don’t need them.
175 hit me with the pointy part of her head. The part made entirely of bone. Really hard bone. I saw stars and quite a bit of the prairie as I left the calf. In a summersault. Backwards. The culprit and her offspring wasted no time in vacating the area. I got to my feet and stared after them, fuzzily. I had lost my glasses in the encounter. But that didn’t even slow me down.
Perhaps the anger radiating off me in waves had a stupefying effect on her. Perhaps she was merely trying something new. Self preservation.
Then I stood up, releasing it, but before it could regain its feet and rejoin its Mama, I walked over and booted her. Twice. It felt good. Then I watched as the two of them headed for some human-less spot.
Riding back to the scene of the crime, I searched around until I finally discovered my glasses. Miraculously undamaged. Then I rode home and stabled my horse.
And here is where the story really gets interesting.
My Mom was the daughter of a rancher. Her years of ranching experience were many and varied. But she could still be shocked. Which I did. On a regular basis.
When I walked in the kitchen door, she screamed. And ran for a towel. It was only then that I realized that I could feel the tip of my tongue. Through my bottom lip. And that my shirt was completely covered in blood. You’d think I would have noticed something like that.
Posted by Diane Tolley at 11:40:00 AM