After a blogging spring break, I am back! We’ve been busy with home improvement / cleaning projects, spending time with family and friends, and planting corn. Enough about that business!
So you may be familiar with a noun I use now and then, farm wife*. My informal definition of this noun is “one who marries a farmer.” A few weeks ago, I invented (to my knowledge) the verb, farm wifeing*. The unofficial meaning of this word is “the act of doing any wifely duty not attributable to someone who hasn’t married a farmer.” Farm wifeing was invented after an experience perhaps only farm wives may ever have . . .
I am so lucky and very very happy to have my cousin Amy living with her farmer down the road a few miles from our farm. She is officially the newest farm wife in the area after getting married a few weeks ago. Since it is planting season, we made plans to hang out together on a Friday evening while our men worked in the field. We went on a walk down the gravel road and planned to have margaritas on the patio.
When we returned from our walk, Amy noticed that a new baby calf was in the wrong pen (the calf was with year old calves, or yearlings, that were much bigger than it and none of them could provide milk like its mother!) First, farm wifeing moment . . . Amy identified the problem.
With my experience guarding the gates in the feedlot and helping herd in a rouge calf or two, I really felt that we could solve this problem without having to call for our farmers’ help. With that sliver confidence, we decided to go into the pen and coax the calf back where he (or she?) belonged. We were definitely farm wifeing.
Once we were in the pen, the yearlings started coming towards us because they thought it was feeding time. An unsettling experience to say the least. We tried to separate the baby from the crowd and put him in a special section of the pen. It wasn’t as easy as Farmer J always makes it look! As cattle are naturally herding animals, to separate one from the pack and make it go an opposite direction is a challenge.
We definitely took our best shot at solving the problem ourselves (aka farm wifeing), which made me very proud. Lucky for us and the calf, Farmer J took a short break from planting to hang out and help us solve the problem. With his coaching and guidance (and a little running around in the pen), the three of us guided the little guy back to his proper home.
The experience was definitely unique. One I wouldn’t trade, and one I am glad I could share with a fellow farm wife. If you would have asked either of us a few years ago how we would spend our future Friday nights . . . this type of activity probably wouldn’t have entered the realm of possibility. Funny where life leads us.
Stay tuned for more farmwifeing adventures for the two of us!
* Please note that I am aware there are male spouses of farmers, and I am using the terms farm wife and farmwifeing as they apply to me. I fully support farm spouses or farm husbands and their farm spousing / farm husbanding skills :-).