Something happened today. We were working with.... cows. We separated a momma (Cherokee Rose) from her calf then attempted to halter Bluebell (the calf). I thought oh my word. We're going to have to call some real cowboys to help us! We'll never catch this thing and now the momma is trying to break through the fence. What are we going to do?! Bluebell was weaving in and out between us. She didn't care one thing about the bucket of feed she loved yesterday. We were wishing we had built a smaller pen. Then before I knew it, we had the calf roped. By we, I mean James. Then I... yes I... put the halter on her.
Doubt started creeping back in when she started fighting that halter. How on EARTH are we going to get her to calm down. She is never going to give up. But before I knew it, she gave me some slack in the rope and was eating from a pile at my feet while I rubbed her head.
I looked at James and said, "I thought we were going to have to call some real cowboys to help us, but we did it!" We both felt so accomplished. And tired. But mostly accomplished. Not bad for a couple of newbies!