Some people might think that life here in the middle of nowhere lacks excitement.
In fact, our lives have been quite full of drama lately.
We might not have amusement parks in this region, but we have been riding the roller coaster of March temperatures that have ranged from -17 to 60 degrees.
We don't float in the social circles of millionaires, but we have certainly been fielding a lot of invitations from chemical companies, livestock pharmaceutical representatives, crop insurance agents, and even government agencies these days. They don't serve shrimp and caviar, but I'll take a donut or a good burger over a clump of slime any day.
We might not have date night, but you can't beat the marital bonding that happens when you are experiencing that meaningful silence with your spouse while you're doctoring a cow.
We might not have time to watch many soap operas, but we have plenty of drama right in our own backyard.
Remember this idyllic scene?
One calf was pulled off to bottle feed, and the other went out to the pasture with its mama. A couple of weeks later, Mama was experiencing difficulties of the digestive sort.
After some meaningful marital bonding at the squeeze chute, we doctored the cow, started teaching the other twin how to drink from a bottle, and kept them in the corral for observation.
Mama's digestive troubles are clearing up. Her milk supply, however, is sadly lacking. Her calf has learned how to dodge and dart so that catching her to feed her the bottle turns into a half-hour session of "tag," which makes me chuckle at all those poor saps who pay money to go run on a treadmill every day.
No riveting soap opera is without a death here and there, so yesterday we lost a good steer calf just for good measure.
We're not lacking for drama and excitement around here. It's just that our excitement can be the result of an experience that other might find less than thrilling, such as this morning when I stepped in the sick mama cow's first solid poop since the beginning of her digestive system episode. I realized when I was congratulating her on a job well done that some people might not understand my jubilation.
That's just because they haven't been the ones to coax the wild calf to drink from a rubber nipple while getting soaked in milk and splattered with the mama's snot as she expresses her displeasure two inches from my face.
I, for one, am ready for the end of this little drama.