4.23.18

Not Everyone Likes Me

I was irritated, I’ll admit it. I had other things on my mind last Sunday night. I wanted to get the barn chores done and get back to watching Longmire on Netflix. My husband was taking his sweet time in the house, I was in a hurry so I left for the barn without him.  Don’t misunderstand, I love the barn and I love our cows.  I am so very grateful for the structure we built that keeps our cattle warm and dry and out of the elements. I love each little calf born.  But last Sunday, Hayden was gone and we are down to about 10 cows left to calve and I was beginning to see that “normal” life might resume after the marathon of calving.

So, I hopped in the Ranger and drove to the barn. My irritation disappeared and I happily mixed 10 quarts of milk replacer. I fed my 5 bottle babies with my new handy-dandy 5 nipple bucket, clean up was quick and easy I was grateful.  Craig arrived and began working with a new momma who needed to be shown how to feed her baby. I am always amazed at this man’s quiet and gentle ways with the cattle.  His deep voice encouraging her to stand still while he opened the teat and pushed the baby calf towards sustenance. She danced around a bit and he calmed her and tried again. I would have put her in the chute, but he didn’t need to. Soon I heard suckling noises and I knew he was successful again. He would stay by her side and help until the calf got a bellyful.

From my years of travelling internationally I learned to love the quiet knock on my hotel room door followed by the sweet announcement of “Room Service” or “Housekeeping”.  I always joke that I don’t do “Room Service” for the cows… they leave their babes in their pens and go outside to eat and drink 3-4 times per day. While the cow is out of the pen we do “Housekeeping” chores.  Sunday evening the cows were done dining and it was time to return to motherhood.   I brought all 6 cows in at once. They walked calmly by me into the heated barn where Craig and his heifer were, and then into the old barn. I followed them with my pink cane in hand, and pulled the garage door that separates the two barns,  down behind me.  I have done this 100’s of times just this year alone.  Little did I know that this time it would be so different.

A few years ago I was standing in the Church foyer on a bright, sunny Sunday morning. I was sporting a purple and black eye. It made a statement against my winter white, this-has-been a-long-dark-winter skin. Our neighbor asked what happened and when I said that a cow got me he replied “But Leslie, I thought everyone liked you!” Big sigh, so did I. I didn’t know another non-fan would make herself known to me.

Sunday night I read the ear tag on the calf in the first pen and saw that her momma was standing by her gate. I pulled the panel open and she charged. I heard nothing, I saw nothing, I felt nothing. She put her head down and crashed into my chest, throwing the panel I was opening, inward and me against it. At one point I remember hearing screams and it slowly dawned on me that they were mine. She kept coming. I was on the ground. Now I could hear her breathing. I could feel the heat of her angry exhalations as she rammed into me.  The sound of her hooves were all around me, on me. Slowly another thought became clear; I needed to keep screaming if Craig was going to hear me. Time stood still and her anger didn’t dissipate. I don’t remember hearing any voices but my own screams. Eventually two thoughts emerged at the same time, Craig was there, he had arrived and that I should try to crawl away.

In reality Craig had heard my first scream. When we watched the camera recording later it was as though he suddenly and magically materialized to save me.  The cow gave no warning or indication of what she was about to do. He rushed the cow and jumped in front of her. She had not fully expressed all of her anger yet and had him on the panel, with me on the ground below him.  She charged him repeatedly and every time she hit him, she went over the top of me. It was truly divine intervention that we are not hurt worse. As soon as I crawled away and behind another panel, Craig climbed his panel and she reluctantly stopped. The video was hard to watch, he was airborne several times, looking like a limp rodeo clown as his long legs danced unnaturally in the air.

Once she was contained, he rushed over to me and dropped to his knees. I didn’t hurt yet. I was conscious that pain was coming. I couldn’t breathe. It sounded like someone else asking “Whose blood is this?” He touched my face and said “It’s yours.” He finished caring for the animals while I rested against the wall. I didn’t cry. We were ok. I kept repeating that over and over.  He took me to the house and gently cleaned the blood off my face. A trip to the ER showed two broken ribs and multiple scrapes and contusions. I have what we believe to be hoof marks on both sides of my head, but she didn’t step directly on my head. There is a semi-circle cut on my left calf, her hoof and 1400lbs of weight cut the skin through my sock, jeans and insulated muck boots, but didn’t break any bones.  I was grateful.

Three years ago we attended a marriage enrichment seminar. At one point during the event the Pastor stood before us and boldly proclaimed “Wives, know that your husband would die for you.” I know for a fact that I wasn’t the only woman in the room that chanced a sidelong glance at her husband.  I also know, for a fact, that mine would for me.  Grateful doesn’t begin to describe what I feel.

By 4am Monday morning we were on our way home. My husband is incredible for a large number of reasons, including his ability to fall asleep while driving. The morphine was working so we talked all the way home. (Apparently some of my words slurred, but I don’t actually remember that!). Sometime just after the Dawson exit his foot slipped off the accelerator. I knew he was more hurt than he let on and more tired too. To keep him awake I asked him to sing to me. He did.

8 days post incident and I still hurt, people tell me I will hurt for many weeks but I am grateful. At one point we thought I would have two black eyes, but they seemed to have stopped at the yellow/pea green shade. My lip has healed and my wounds have scabbed over. I am grateful.

Hayden picked up all the slack on the farm so Craig and I could heal. My daughter put her 7 week old baby in the car and drove 6 hours to be with me. My eldest son offered to come home from Georgia.  My middle son called from Army training school twice daily to check in me. My step-daughters and daughter-in-law showered us with offers of help and support. Oh yes, we are so grateful for that.

 My father called a few times from Montana. I didn’t tell him initially about “the incident” but each time we spoke I knew he knew something was up.  I finally Facetimed him so he could see that I was really ok. A few days later I was floored when he and Jill showed up at my doorstep. I am grateful.  I can take short walks around the farm with the dogs. I petted my cow Leslie across the fence and wasn’t afraid. I am grateful. I have returned to work and for that I am also grateful.

God doesn’t always prevent bad things from happening, but He never leaves you when they do. I believe He and He alone is why both of us are going to be ok. There is no logical explanation why she charged or why she didn’t step on my head, neck or back. There is a bigger plan afoot here, of this I am sure. We will not second guess anything or take anything for granted. Sometimes it takes a beating to remind us that we are loved, we are cared for, we are cherished and we are blessed.

Life is a gift. Open it each day with anticipation and gratitude.

Leslie Kemmet 4.23.18