My epic helmet hair and I demonstrate the wrong way to set one's legs during a calf branding. Partner-woman up front is in charge of holding down the top leg and making sure that the calf gets both parts of the brand, a vaccine, a band if it's a bull calf (this one isn't), and an ear tag, then she counts us down so that we release and roll away in sync. The person at the back is responsible for not getting seared or pooped on and for making sure the hind legs don't get free. [ETA, because apparently people are worried: I was neither seared nor smeared. Although there were a couple of close calls on both.]Do not my stylish yaller gloves fit me purty? It's 'cause they's the perfect size.
9 comments:
I was listening to Maria McKee's "My Girlhood Among the Outlaws" last week. Thought of you. And now this picture really brings it all together.
And, oddly enough, honestly and no lie, I personally prefer West Chester ladies gloves when working at home with wood and tools. I go for the gardening variety myself, though, quite a bit thinner, for better feel and control. And green rather than yeller.
I was all set to be insulted by the sizing, then I looked at the rack of men's gloves. All, without a single exception, Size: Large. TOO MANY JOKES. I am twelve.
Nah. If you really were twelve, you'd have guffawed when I said "thinner, for better feel and control."
That, or I'm twelve for thinking of it.
Not just "Women's", but "Ladies" Heavy protection, cowhide, work gloves. I like it. I also like how the person in the back is "responsible for not getting seared or pooped on and for making sure the hind legs don't get free". It does seem like from that position you would have a hard time controlling whether or not you get "pooped on" or even not kicked from that position, but then again I've never needed to do branding that way. I bet you were great (or at least better than I would have been).
If you keep a good grip on the legs, not getting kicked isn't a problem until it's time to let the calf go; both workers have do it in sync or at least release the front legs first, else the calf kicks back and someone loses teeth. Our host was insane about teamwork and safety, providing profane managerial feedback if he thought people weren't paying attention (he was roping, which gave him an excellent view), so if a calf got to wriggling hard, help was always available.
SUCH a good time. I couldn't do it for a living, but as a vacation, man. An utter trip.
Liking the boots and the fetching pose of the foot (yours not the calf's). Mention of poop-possibility causes concern. Fun vacation involving real work & large animals! How much better than yawn a cruise or something.
I believe really that it's not inappropriate to call it an udder trip, either. -IE
*resolves to throttle IE, remembers relative fitness levels, reconsiders, resolves to keep next Biagio reception a secret, cackles contentedly*
My poor Dan Posts! I've had those boots for about 15 years and could comfortably walk 10 miles in them, but the ocotillo and years of rough use are starting to take a toll. I wince at the thought of buying new ones.
Dang girl. If you ain't a wrasslin cowgirl.
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