Carter likes to hear about life at the farm. The farm is such a new adventure for me that everyday there is something new. We have had new calves. We have had new puppies (all seven puppies have made it to their six week birthday which means they will probably make it to doghood.). There is beautiful sites to see because of the mountains. The farm house is always telling me new secrets, like it has a rock foundation around the front and flashing around the back because of the direction of the typical wind. The wind would really create a draft if there was rocks around the base in the back, but because there is flashing, the wind has less of a chance of getting through. The rocks in the front are loose and the puppies found a hole the other night, which funny enough they can't seem to find again. Wonder why? Maybe because I am smart enough to fill the gap? They are totally confused. It is very funny. The cows are that stupid too. There is a calf caught in the mineral trough today. It crawled in there for more and can't figure out how to get out. As soon as we pulled in from Sweetwater, there it was hollerin at the top of its lungs as though to say: GET ME OUTTA HERE!!!! It was very funny because the rest of the heard was down in the trees where is was nice and warm and dry. You could here the mama cow calling for it going: Come on my stupid child. John is coaxing it out with bread. Did I mention that the cows love pumpernickle bread? They step on their young, brave the electric fence and head butt each other for a single piece of pumpernickle bread.

The nice thing about the farm is that you can tend to a farm and it is not an all day job even though it is a round the clock job. Pups crying at five in the morning. Sick cows needing a shot in the middle of the night. Coyotes howling as Baby, the dog, runs a pack off the land just before you lay down to sleep. Hay in the morning for the cows. Food for the dogs before and after work. Water the cows when you come home. Coax the crazy horse into a carrot once in a while. However, you can always leave for work and know that generally, nothing will change or go atrociously ary.

Today is a sad day in new discovery at the farm. The cow that birth her first calf will have to be put down. The calf was too big and suffocated in the birth canal. The coyotes took care of it. Then the cow remained paralyzed once the whole ordeal was over. Cows have natural epidurals. Once the calf gets into the birth canal, the hips splay and pinch a nerve that creates a temporary paralysis and allieviates all pain of birth. Guess women are the only ones to suffer labor. Because it was a troubled birth, the cow was paralyzed for too long. She hasn't snapped out of it, when normally the hips go back together, release the nerve and walla! Walking cow. There was no walla. She has been leaning up inside the barn for a couple days now and the swelling has overpowered her. She quit eating yesterday. The veteranarian said that they could let her die, because that is what would happen if she were a wild cow--wild cow? Yeah, I think I might have made that phrase up. Because that is what would inevitably happen or put her down ourselves. So John has to put her down.

Somehow this is sad to me. I don't know why exactly, perhaps because there was hope that she would get better? Perhaps because it is a $3500 throw away cow? Perhaps because it was her first calf and it was a horrible experience and she will never know that it doesn't always have to be that bad? Perhaps because I don't know how to not project emotions on things that don't have them? Although, I am beginginng to find that they do have some inclination of emotions. For example, Baby doesn't care for men. Legend, the horse, doesn't trust women and when there is enough people around will show off as though he were five instead of 25. That the pups cry for their mom and cows scream for their young when they are being weaned. Surely, this cow that can't move because its entire hind quarters won't move understands a loss of hope. Surely? I mean a cow is not something to be hunted. It is not something to be petted. It is not something for sport or luxury. But it is something of use. The cow lost its use. We all have a use at the farm and the cow lost its use.

That's sad.

I love this farm. Even the sad parts. It is such a good representation of life. Sometimes things lose their use. I hope I never do. God knows, I just became useful again. Hopefully, nursing school will increase my use. I sure don't want anyone to put me down!

John just came back in--the sick cow ate pumpernickle bread. Walla!