Phil had a good day of hard work outside in the sun. As soon as he had finished breakfast, he headed out to string the corridor from the lower pasture to the neighbor's land, about 1100 feet. Up the road from the pasture, through the curves of the now defunct market garden, up the driveway. A sharp turn into the stone fruit orchard, a leisurely path between the peaches and cherries, through the opening left by a cattle panel, and into the new paddock, a little less than an acre.
It took hours to string 2200' of line, but by 12:30, he was ready for the boys and I to help. We energized the line to be sure that the cows would be motivated to stay in. None were terribly eager to leave their lower pasture paddock, but Phil took Bethany, the lead cow, by the collar. She is a good cow, and walked with him, and she is the lead cow, so she broke the ice. Once she headed up the forested slope, the other cows came behind.
Except for Cleo and Charlemagne. They ducked under the electric line immediately, and headed out for the woods. Rascals!
Bethany kept plodding upslope. All the cows congregated at the sharp turn off the driveway, but Jadon was waiting. He said later that he enjoyed watching the cows walk up, heads bobbing with every step, clipping along. He ducked under the wire and showed Bethany the way to go, and she munched her way forward. Cleaning up the orchard floor and feeding those cows, all at once!
I had been nervous for my peach trees, so beautifully leafed out. But with the allure of clover on the ground, and other unusual weeds, the cows had no motivation to cross the electric line to sample my trees.
As they kept coming, they strung out beautifully.
And although it is hard for a photo to do it justice, the day was one of those perfect, blue sky with puffy cloud days. No shimmering heat, but a day that screamed "summer! Be outdoors!"
Bethany approached the edge of the orchard, but rather than continuing on into the grass, she turned around. And so did all the others. I really didn't want to face a stampede in the orchard, so I called their yip-yip-yip, and eventually Phil came and helped guide her in the way she should go, and block her from going the way she shouldn't.
And once the cows saw that she was in beautiful grass, they quickly followed, and the grass swallowed them up. There is a cow back in the photo, but it's virtually impossible to spot.
So that was all marvelous, but by that time, Clover had spooked and run back to hide in the 10' tall weeds in the garden, and Cleo and Charlemagne were, well, somewhere. So we shortened the cow's path to just the orchard and new paddock, and went to have some lunch. It was 2:30.
Phil took a nap, and I giggled as I looked at the window while I was working: the cows would walk along their corridor and back to their new paddock. They like to circle their area as they graze, and they had a long distance to circle.
At about 4:30, Phil headed out to find Babe (or Toots) tangled in the electric line, hooked over her horns, line touching the back of her skull. In her panic, she had pulled up several stakes, and Catherine the opportunist had wandered away into the stone fruits, and Bianca had wandered up to the future metal barn pad. One of the most glorious peach trees was rubbed raw and pushed half over by the force of the electric line.
Phil figured that it had just happened, and since we've never had any trouble with the single strand electric line, he guessed that the cows, in the confines of the corridor, had had a slight tussle. Maybe Babe (or Toots) had been grazing just under the fence line and brought her head up quickly, right into the line.
In any case, it was quite the traumatic thing for Phil to see, and surely horrible for Babe (or Toots), but in short order, she was restored, the lines restrung, the two escaped cows rounded up. I fetched some kelp and tempted all ten animals into their new pen (Charlemagne had gotten hungry, apparently, and found his mother for some food). Just two escapers to recover.
Phil and I flushed Clover out of the garden and managed to corner him and grab him. With a collar and lead on, as well as a halter, I tugged and Phil pushed that little stubborn baby bull until he rejoined his mother. Cleo, always on the outside, had made her way to the cattle panel, and when I opened it, she simply walked in. All present and accounted for, all safe, and only one tree damaged (hopefully not destroyed).
In other news, I went out to bake breakfast this morning and found about two cups of chicken poop all over my table, as well as on my stand mixer and even in my toaster oven, which the chickens had managed to open in the night. Totally, totally disgusting, and not a cheery way to start the day.
So Phil and I went on a catching spree after dark. We caught about twenty birds total (only five in the barn). I'll be looking forward to a cleaner kitchen space tomorrow.
The boys also asked to star gaze after dark, so we went out. As the moon is waxing, most constellations were difficult to spot, but I managed to show them Vega, the fifth brightest star, and Altair and Deneb, two others of the 21 brightest. I think we were able to see Antares, despite the light of the moon, but I'm not positive.
And, finally, the boys and I spent an idyllic half hour or so blowing bubbles, one of the favors left over from yesterday's presents. Joe was in his element, running to pop them. He tripped at one point, since he wasn't watching where he was going at all, but stood up after a stunned moment, and, despite light scratches across his face and eyebrow (including just a bit of sand stuck to his face), he was grinning and ready for more.
I mentioned that we had blown bubbles for Jadon's third birthday, too, and he surprised me when he said, "Yes, and I remember Aunt Brittany blew the biggest one."
She had, but that was over six years ago now, and he was, well, three at the time!
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