My husband and I had recently had the pleasure of having the same day “off,” which lent us the perfect opportunity to get some of those “two people jobs” done - one of which included moving Patsy Cline from one farm to another.
Patsy is a cow named not after her signature voice, or smooth musical styling, but rather due to the look in her eye - “Craaazzzy” just naturally comes to mind. And I wasn’t anticipating having a calf on her side was going to help the situation.
Securing the pair in a small, enclosed shed, we parked the trailer and situated the panels into a chute running from it, to the building.
Our plan was to get the heifer into the trailer first, in hopes Patsy would want to join her calf. But that was OUR plan. Patsy’s plan was to get out of that little shed, and as soon as the door opened, that’s what she did - bolting straight past her calf and heading right for the trailer.
Our plan was a flexible one, and we were willing to change it accordingly. Unfortunately, so was Patsy.
Some animals have the innate ability to be facing one way, and then the other. Patsy Cline would apparently be one of them - I don’t know how else to explain a 1,900 pound cow doing a 180 degree turn in two feet of space. At full speed, back into the shed she went - which is where I just happened to be as well.
Assuming what was essentially an upright fetal position in the corner of the now seemingly even smaller shed, I started looking for options. When clicking my heels together got me nowhere, I took my next best option - scaling the six foot gate dividing the building in half, which I did. And while that got me off the ground, the size of the building provided for an incredibly low ceiling. Factoring in the rafter running directly over the panel, as well as being able to see the business end of every roofing nail holding the shingles in place, there was simply not enough clearance to make it to the other side.
“Joooohhhn? Little help here?”
But taking full advantage of Patsy’s focus being elsewhere, he was busy outside the shed, loading the calf in to the trailer on his own.
“Climb the gate!”
“I’m already on the (insert adjective) gate!”
“Then go over!”
“John - I won’t fit!”
Meanwhile, Patsy Cline was weighing her options as well. And since she didn’t have the ability to climb the gate with me, she decided to simply remove it. Putting everything she had into it, she began slamming her massive head against it, just a few inches away from my dangling legs.
As it turns out - I actually did fit. I’m not sure how, and I know it wasn’t pretty, but I made it through. Patsy took a few more cracks at the gate, then when John popped back into the barn, she swung around to look at him, realized her calf was no longer there, and scooted out the door and into the trailer like a trained professional.
By the end of it all, I was covered in sweat, dirt and down another pair of free-from-rips pants. But you know what? I really didn’t mind - I got to spend the day with John ... and I lived. Although the next time we both have the same day off, I’d really be okay with dinner and a movie.