We branded today. Not the best job, not the absolute worst either, but it really isn’t much fun for anyone concerned—us or the calves. The whole thing almost didn’t happen. We’d arranged to hire some help because we no longer have anyone else working for us, and we can’t do labor intensive jobs like that ourselves (there are only three of us after all). We hired one guy from the nearby Hutterite Colony, and, or so we thought, arranged for another who lives in Fort Benton to come out and help.
I’m not really a rancher. Sure, I raise cattle for a living, I brand the calves and ship them away to become hamburgers, steaks, stews, and all of the other myriad of tasty things that beef can become. I fix fence, round-up herds, and spend much of each day “on the range.” But I’m not really a rancher. Please don’t misunderstand I do love my job, most of the time (which is a dam sight better than many people can say).
I'm a glutton for punishment (or, sometimes just a plain old glutton, but that's another post). I have this bad habit of telling myself that I should post a new blog entry, but being too lazy and procrastinating it. After while I run out of valid procrastinations and end up coming up with some project which invariably involves more work than just writing a stupid post. Then, of course, I invariably complain about how I'm trying to keep too many projects going at once.