I love cows. When you have cows like ours, it's hard not to love them. It's not exactly a production herd. More pets than anything. Some of them even have names.
Feeding time is my favorite. They love getting a new bale of hay. There is nothing funnier than seeing a 1,000 pound cow frolicking in the hay like a 5-year-old would do in a park fountain. They get so excited sometimes.
This is the tractor I almost got to drive the other day. My husband was a few songs in on the guitar at a July 4th party and wasn't ready to leave. He asked me to feed the cows. I was psyched. I get to the farm, get the tractor fired up and then he calls to say it's getting too dark and he'll just bring the cows a bale first thing in the morning. Boo.
Oh look, there's the tractor hog himself. Share. Please. Let me drive.
The strategic bale drop-off. Should I be taking notes?
Nope, I should be watching where I am walking.
But aren't my shoes so cute? Even with cow poop on them? I only dress appropriately for this farm wife thing about 50% of the time. And this was not one of those days.
She's not as mean as she looks. Of course you would have a scowl on your face too if your name was Honey B .... short for Honey Bin Laden. I'll have to fill you in on the story behind her name sometime. It's actually pretty cute. And will make you fall in love with my husband.
In that case, maybe I shouldn't tell you.
Yum, yum, yum.
Now that's attractive.
I have such a soft spot in my heart for the babies. I love that they all hang together.
What do you tell a woman who has two black eyes?
Nothing, you already told her twice.
That one never gets old!
Which one doesn't belong?
Oh geez, do you think he heard me?
Sorry to insult you.
You know a man loves his cows when he camps out on top of the hay bale to watch them eat.
Maybe these are the only friends he can get.