I don’t eat meat.

Well, except seafood.

And sometimes bacon.  I enjoy it’s salty crispness.  And am not ashamed to admit it.

After all, the reason I don’t eat meat is because I don’t like meat.  It’s not a health or moral thing at all.  Just a preference.

Bacon should be given it’s own category anyway.

I do not know cuts of beef.

But, I know a lot about beef cattle breeds.

Bet you didn’t know that about me?

It probably doesn’t sound like a real stretch, being married to a farmer and all.

But, my bovine knowledge came from my dad, long before that turkey farming husband of mine was even a twinkle in my eye!

We had cows when I was growing up.  And I’d ride with my dad in the afternoons to tend to them.  He had an old blue farm truck with a cattle gate on the back.  The floor board was rusted all the way through in places.  You could actually see the ground.  He said he liked it that way because if he ran over someone, he could easily tell who he’d hit.

So, it was a practical thing, I guess.

I had to be careful where I put my feet so they wouldn’t go through the bottom and have me running along like Fred Flintstone.

I’d often just stand in the seat beside him when I was tiny.  I don’t think seatbelts had been invented yet.

I wanted a cat really badly for a while.  So, my dad let me name one of the calves Kitty.  A compromise of sorts.

Before we went to the farm, we’d go by a little store, Bad Eye’s.  Bad Eye, who didn’t look like someone with bad eyes, and my dad were friends and he’d always give me a Chick-o-Stick while they visited.  Then Daddy and I would get a pack of salted peanuts and a little glass bottle Coke.  (FYI-I’m pretty sure God intended Coke to come in those little glass bottles.)  We’d pour the peanuts inside the Coke and drink/eat them.

I’d stand up in the seat beside him, trying not to fly out of the window or fall through the floor board or choke on peanuts or break my teeth on the glass bottle when we’d hit a bump.  We’d pass other pastures, full of cows.  And my dad would point out different breeds or quiz me on them.  To this day, I can identify Herfords, Santa Getrudis, White Face, Charolais, Angus black or red, Belted Galloways on and on.  I’ll stop naming cows.  I’m just showing off and I don’t want you to be jealous.

I know that Santa Gertrudis have narrow shoulders.  And this makes it an easy cow to raise.

You know why?

Because, narrow shoulders make their calves easier to deliver.  I think that tidbit alone makes this an educational post, don’t you?  So, this visit to my blog wasn’t a collosal waste of your time, it was an educational visit!  Pat yourselves on the back!

Most of the time, I’d ride on the back of the truck, throwing out little bales of hay.  Other days, I’d just walk around with my dad, trying to avoid cow patties.

We had mostly Santa Gertrudis.  Because, who really wants to play midwife to a herd of cows?  Not us.

Doesn’t mean it never happened though. Late one night, one of the cows was having a really hard delivery.  I’m thinking the calf was breech.  But, what do I know about this stuff? I couldn’t have been more than ten years old.

We drove the old truck with no floor board out to where she was.  Put the bright lights on.(Using the pedal on the floor, remember when the gear shift was on the column and you dimmed your lights on the floor?  Anyone?  Oh… just me, huh?)  And my dad had to use a wench and chains and a nearby tree to get the calf out.   The most primitive birthing center ever.  No cleansing breaths and focusing on happy places here.

Bright lights and chains.  Yikes!  Poor cow!  She and I were equally traumatized.  Or probably she had it a little worse than me.  But, I suffered for her.   Her brutal delivery and frightened eyes broke my heart.

Wayne keeps threatening to buy cows.

Personally, I don’t see animal husbandry as a calling for myself.  I’m plan to keep my midwifery knowledge quiet, in an effort to avoid being drafted into service.  I could perhaps provide an appropriate playlist for the delivery.  Something calming but with enough pep to get them through the parts that require effort.

But, besides that, I’m out.

Now, I’m interested, what random stuff did you learn while growing up that your brain is now using valuable storage space to house?   Please share!