10/10/2026
Yesterday was one of those days where we were too busy living farm life to get much of it on camera. A few pictures, no videos, and quite a story by the time we finally got home.
After morning chores and a run into Hampton, the plan was to collect a cow from my cousin’s place to take to the butcher. We had four cattle of ours down there, so we figured we might as well bring the other three home while we were set up to load them. That would give his own herd a little more room.
My cousin has been a huge part of our farming journey. He’s looked after cattle for us for years, helped build fences, and when we built our barns, he helped cut the logs and milled much of the lumber and helped me build them while I was still running our summer tourism. Over the years, he’s built a little herd from ours, too. Farming brought us closer together, and Jill and I are awfully grateful for everything he’s done and we have built an unspoken communal relationship of helpfulness and sharing.
The one headed to the butcher loaded fairly easily. The other three apparently had the entire afternoon available to discuss their objections. 🙄
There was a mother we call Crazy(there is an entire story about that name), her grown son, and her younger calf. Some of you might remember that calf from March, when we nearly lost him. I spent two or three days down there helping him, including tube-feeding him until we finally got him turned around.
Yesterday, he thanked me for saving his life by kicking me several times. One particularly well-placed kick peeled the skin right off my shin. Apparently, gratitude has an expiry date. 😂
At one point, I was inside the small trailer with Crazy and the bigger son, trying to get the youngster aboard, while Crazy pawed the floor and made little bluff charges in my direction, like she intended to kill me. She certainly kept my attention.
Eventually, all four were loaded, and the three coming home made their trip behind the old ’81 GMC. Its first time hauling cattle with us! Nice to see the old truck earning its keep.
We still have a trailer-light connection to sort out, so for the evening trip to the butcher, I borrowed a friend’s truck. Another person we were grateful for yesterday.
But somewhere in the middle of all that, we nearly lost a cow here at home.
When I pulled into the yard late in the morning, I spotted her lying flat on her side near the hay feeder, with her belly terribly bloated. She had become cast—stuck in a position where she couldn’t get herself back up.
For a moment, I honestly thought she was already dead.
I ran up the wet, slippery pasture, stumbling and scrambling, and managed to get her rolled downhill and back onto her chest. Then came some enormous belches, and she started coming around.
She stayed there looking stunned for a while, but eventually got up and went about her day. She still seemed a little off afterward, so we’re keeping an eye on her, but thankfully we found her in time.
There are no pictures of that part. When something like that happens, reaching for the phone doesn’t enter your mind.
Jill and I finally got home around 8:30 or 9 last night and sat down to leftover chili. A whole day gone, a sore shin, a few other aches, and thankfully everyone who was supposed to come home was home.
I think this is a part of farming that’s hard to see from the outside. You can spend hours accomplishing what sounds like one simple job: “Move four cattle.” Meanwhile, the chores still need doing, something doesn’t work, and an emergency changes the whole day.
And yes, there’s a lot to hold together emotionally, too. On the same day we were taking one animal to the butcher to provide food, I was doing everything I could to save another.
Raising animals for food comes with a responsibility to care for them throughout their lives. We put time, effort, and sometimes a little skin into that responsibility.
Yesterday just happened to involve a little more skin than I’d planned. 😉
