That Monday morning feeling

An abrupt start. It’s always down to earth with a bump after a weekend off. I can hear the rain lashing against the window, can’t start the day without a cup of tea. Arriving at work, most of the milking cows have had the sense to come up to the cubicles for silage and shelter. It’s important to note that I work for someone else during the day and normally do the ‘outside’ jobs in the morning and milking in the afternoon during the week and all the milking on alternate weekends. Currently there are 26 calves to be fed with milk. They are always pleased to see whoever is feeding them am or pm. It’s just cupboard love. They slurp every last molecule of milk out of their buckets and often suck each other’s faces to get a final taste of milk to last them until the next feed.
It’s getting light now, so time to look at the calving cows in the field. There’s a cow on her own and in the gloom a little black and white face can be seen hiding tucked under the hedge. The quad bike is a necessary piece of equipment together with a small trailer – the calf in put in the trailer and I set off with the cow following behind mooing and calling her calf. It’s light enough to see Corndon in the distance. It has some cloud around it, which would suggest that, its going to be an unsettled day – no need for John Kettley. The locals would say that ‘Corndon has his cap on’.It never ceases to amaze me how local people have sayings, which often are right. In the Potteries they would say “ its black over Bill’s mother’s”.
I came across a herdsman over at Minsterley a few years ago. He often said, “if cows had to tidy up behind themselves, they wouldn’t make such a mess”. “Bydd popeth yn iawn”, Dyffi is Welsh, not that there is anything wrong with being Welsh, Gymro ydw I hefed. However another well used saying ‘red sky at night, your house is on fire’.
After all the parlour is returned to its spick and span state, just one job left to do – feeding yearling heifers at ‘Lewis’s’. Where the troughs are rabbits and pheasants gather. The heifers come thundering up to the gate, wildlife are scattered in all directions.
The post has come – yet another chequebook (it’s a long story) and with the return of my prodigal penknife it looks as if it could be a good week.