And I will name her...

Oh you guys, I hate to admit stuff about my true self... for one, I'm sporting barn boots with shorts in this picture, that was tonight as I was checking for calves.  Admission #1: I'm not a fashionista.  Admission #2:  I have a heart.  I know, I know, this middle aged tough broad can love...it's true.  O-u-c-h that hurt.

You know, I'm not a complete loveless person, I love my kids and Big D something fierce.  I just try not to get attached to animals anymore.  You have to be pretty lovable to break me.  That's right, only a few critters have done it and there's not been a critter that could make me melt for a while around here.

Until recently...

So it's no secret; I've been spending a lot of time in the east yard of the feedlot, isn't that right Big Red?  ("Baby Faker" as my kids call her now.)  I've fallen for this:

I know, she looks pretty spent and that's why she's here.  She's old, so a buyer bought her then put her in here to get on some weight and send her off to the Big McDonalds in the sky. 

Don't think I didn't know this was coming.  That's what we do and I wholeheartedly believe in it, we feed cattle out to market weight and sell them for slaughter.  I eat beef and I love beef.  Usually, an old cull cow comes in our lots and I know why she's here, she's either a bad mother or she's an ornery old witch and even I can't wait to see her get on the bus and get on out of here.

I'll be sad to see her go, she escaped a trip to the sale barn once already when the owner walked the pens and told Big D that she had to go.  He told him that she was my pet.  The owner went up to her and put his arm on her and said she could stay.  I sent him a thank you email.  I told him that he could borrow the curry comb on her that I use.  No response.  Except I could felt this twinge like someone was calling me a huge dufas.

I seriously don't get attached to any feedlot cattle.  BUT if I did...and if I was to name her...wouldn't she make a good "Stella"?  AND at the sake of being a true weirdo, if she was a person, she would remind me of "Flo" on Mel's Diner.  Remember that show? 

Like Flo was on the show, she's calm and a good listener, that is if you think I would ever talk to a cow (I told her all about how I had to sell Fudge the other day).  I bet Stella was a 4H heifer in her day that probably listened to a teenage girl tell her all about the boy she liked. 

Am I trying to make you feel sorry for her?  No.  Order buyers buy cattle for feedlots everyday and then packer buyers buy them for slaughter when they reach market weight.  Then people all over the country enjoy beef.  So, what's the moral of the story? 

I wanted to show and tell you about this because small family farms that take care of the world's food supply truly care about what they do for a living.  Big D and I consider it an honor to raise food for people to eat. 

I also hope you get a kick out of Stella picking her nose and her funky "Bert n Ernie" hairdo.

Happy trails,

Suzanne