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A bit of stress [1]

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Date: 2025-07-23

I’m not real happy with the current political situation, but just like everyone else, I’ve had one or two stressors unrelated to politics. Reviewing my personal goings on in print might help me sort out within my own head where I am right now whether or not anyone else wants to read two words of it.

Until very recently, I had a small herd of beef cattle. A chain of events led me to sell my herd and rent our farm to a row crop farmer. The first event was noticing that one of the cows was staying out in the pond all day long. Cows are pretty reticent, so my inquiries as to why she remained for so long in the pond went unanswered.

Then our phone rang in the middle of the night. A distressed neighbor said, “Two pit bulls attacked one of your cows! I shot them with a pellet gun, and they ran off, but they might do it again!”

The following morning, I located a cow with a jaw so damaged, she couldn’t eat. She died. That gave me a hint that the cow in the pond may have had a reason for staying there.

Soon afterward, I stepped out one morning and found our herd bull standing in the stable, which is across a road from most of the farm. Once again, he wouldn’t say why he was in the stable, but he had several injuries on his head. I got him back in, found a broken spot in the fence and fixed it. He too died.

I knew of only one person in our neighborhood who owned any pit bulls. I questioned her. She denied that her pit bulls were allowed to roam freely…..and yet the attacks stopped after I talked to her.

That series of events led me to start thinking of making a change, but one more event which I’ve already recounted within the comments thread of someone else’s diary made it a solid decision. I noticed a cow in labor one morning. I kept an eye on her and soon noticed that she wasn’t making any progress. I was able to persuade her to enter the corral and get her head secured in a stanchion. Her calf had already died from her exertions and was coming butt first. In days of yore, my next move would have been to call a veterinarian. Vets in our area no longer make house calls. I wasn’t sure this cow could survive the trip to the animal clinic so I called a nearby nephew. He was an hour’s drive away. I proceeded on my own. I was able to push the calf back inside enough to grasp first one back foot, then the other and get those feet pointed towards the exit. I then pulled with all the power I could muster and got the feet toward the exit far enough to loop baler twine around each foot. I got enough twine in place to reach around my own butt. I then began to push against the cow with both my feet. The calf moved a little. I pushed harder. The calf came out suddenly. I fell on the ground. The calf fell on me along with the afterbirth. I didn’t want to repeat such an experience ever again.

I put out word of my intent to rent our farm and soon had visitors. A friend who already rented his own farm said to me, “As good as your place is, you might be able to get $250 per acre.” I did indeed get such offers but each prospective renter wanted to do away with our ponds, woods, and habitat islands of every kind and row crop every square inch of this place.

Then one winter morning, a young man stopped by just after I plugged up my tractor in preparation for putting out hay rolls. I told him what I was about. I said I was about to walk out and tip up the hay rings while my tractor was getting warm enough to start.

He said, “Let me walk with you.”

I nearly fell over when he said that. Few locals show any evidence that they can exist outside a pickup truck.

All the way out to the field he chattered on about how good this place looked to him and how he liked seeing farm ponds and the wooded strips on this place. He helped me tip the hay rings. When we got back to the barn I said, “I believe it’s time for you to make me an offer.”

He said. “Would you take $350 per acre?”

I nearly fell backwards once again, then extended my hand. He’s the best choice I could have made. He mows a path with a riding mower through his own crops so we can walk down to see what might be visiting our middle pond.

Things began to improve, but it might be that stress is cumulative. A little over two weeks ago, I woke up in an ambulance. I asked what in the #@*& is going on? I was then informed that I had just come around from a seizure and was en route to a hospital. Doctors at the hospital didn’t know why I had a seizure, but they do have a pill that prevents such things. They tested me every which away before turning me loose. I sort of wonder whether personal stress added to the stress of watching the news each night could have played a role in placing me where I am today.

That Bald Eagle at the top plans on making a trip to the fall meeting of the Kentucky Ornithological Society where various folks will offer him a new place to live.

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