A Tale of Grass and Ivy

It all started with rotational grazing. This is a technical term that means: turning your cows out into one field of grass at a time, while letting another field lie dormant so the grass there can grow again. Savvy?

This past weekend it was time to turn some cows out into a new field. But before you do that, you have to go around and check the fences in the new field to make sure everything's still up and will keep the cows and calves in. I took off in the four-wheeler with my wire pliers and fencing materials, and drove along a particularly brushy perimeter. It was hot out, so I was only wearing a tank top. (and jeans, too, of course. ONLY wearing a tank top just wouldn't be smart. Plus I shudder to think of the fashion statement a tank top and roper boots would make. Yikes.) Along the way, I dove into the weeds a couple of times to fix the fence (go me), and had the four-wheeler roll down the hill without me on it (boo, me). It didn't do any damage, though, it just decided it didn't like the view from the top of the hill, I guess. So it rolled to the bottom and waited there for me.

Fence fixed, cue the cows. Then, I called the cows and turned them into the new field. (I wish this blog had audio. You'd get a kick outta how we call our cows. Every farmer does it differently.) They were ecstatic - it's like when you go to a Chinese buffet and they're out of crab rangoon. When they put more rangoon out, everybody in the restaurant kinda looks around like, 'What? There's more rangoon? I hadn't noticed.' Then SPRINTS to the buffet to get some. Cows are like, 'WHEE! New grass!' And they trot very excitedly out to the new field.

So the cows had food, and all was well. Until I got up to go to the gym this morning. AAAACCCCKKK!!! MY ARM!!! IT'S ITCHING, AND I THINK IT'S ON FIRE. Nope, no fire. Just The Ivy. Damnitall. I hope those stupid cows are happy. They certainly got the better deal this weekend.