Oh my goodness you guys. I helped brand cattle.
I just, what? I did what? Sometimes, I do things, and then I look back on them and think that I must be clinically insane. It might take an hour, or a day, or a few years, but eventually I look back at the things I’ve done and I just don’t know where I get the cajones to do these things. But hey, look at that. Cajones. Because I tackled a cow today.
Looking back on that from the comfort of my living room as I pop Advil like candy, probably not my best idea! But hey, now I can say I tackled a damn cow. LOOK AT THESE CAJONES.
Having been a certified rancher for all of eight hours, I feel I can impart some wisdom to everyone.
First recommendation: wear sunscreen, even though you know it’s going to rain all day. Because it won’t rain all day. It’ll get blazing hot around noon and you will come home to a neon pink nose.
Second recommendation: Don’t try to stay clean. It is a pointless, losing battle. Also relevant to this: forget about that fear of cow poop, cause it’s all up in your hair now.
Third recommendation: bring a boy with you. Because he will literally have THE TIME OF HIS LIFE.
When I first told Colin that we would be attending a cattle branding, he was not impressed. I had just committed him to rolling around in mud and poop for an entire Sunday. He was Not Pleased. But eventually – with promises of delicious food and fun times – he came around. When we got there, he was a little wary of it all, and understandably so with his lingering concussion symptoms. He sat back and watched us rope and tug a few times, then hopped into the ring with his own rope. And let me tell you: Colin had so much fun it’s ridiculous. He was actually pretty good at roping calves – way better than I was. For someone who had only touched a cow for the first time that morning, I was pretty impressed with how well he did.
Luckily there were many large cowboy type men who took on the real work of getting the calves to the ground and holding them there while someone applied a red hot poker to their ass cheeks. I held one down once, and holy crap those baby cows are strong. Then again. I’d be pretty damn strong too if someone tried to brand my ass.