On The Fifth Day

With the real heavy rains now a distant memory (five days is distant for me, I can’t seem to remember if I had a lunch if it was more than 20 minutes ago), the river level has dropped to what the main herd considers safe to cross. It may have had something to do with the noise we were making with equipment while working by the barn. It triggered their sense that they were going to miss dinner if they didn’t ford the stream.

Even little Francie calf, not really so little anymore, she was the one born in September and has never considered herself a baby, crossed the still muddy river. When she walked the road up to the outdoor feeders she was wet from stem to stern and hungry to boot.

The herd ended up hanging around the feeders for nearly an hour before it was time to bring their portion of hay for the evening feeding. It is much cleaner and neater for the herd to eat from the outdoor mangers than throwing slabs on the wet ground for them to scrounge dinner.

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