***Warning: The following may be offensive to some people. Look away if you must. No animals were permanently harmed in the making of this photo...temporarily uncomfortable, yes...scarred, yes, that's what a brand is after all. Sorry. Don't worry, the cow had the last laugh, as I'm the one looking a little bovine these days.***
Here's a fun photo I just stumbled upon. Literally stumbled upon...dislodged it from a box while trying to straighten up my home office.
That's me (circa 1975/76) wielding the branding iron. I was about eighteen. My first job was working for a cattle breeders association. My days weren't all spent like this. Usually I was going through files, researching bloodlines, and issuing pedigrees. But this was an occasion when they wanted us to get out and see the real deal.
When I think of the poor cowboy (not the one in the picture) who had to be our keeper for the day...poor, poor man. He must have been SO ready to drop me back at the office. We were barely on the road when I innocently asked him a question (really, I didn't know any better then) that made him blush so deeply and stammer endlessly while two of my co-workers in the back seat sprayed Coke-a-Cola out their noses laughing at my naivete. Then we had barely reached our first destination when I approached an insulated fence around a pen, and, wondering how much voltage it would take to keep a full-grown bull inside, I put my hand out to the live wire. So how much voltage does it take, you ask? Enough to knock me back several feet and onto my backside in the dust. Boy oh boy...the looks on the faces of that cowboy and the ranch owner who was hosting us.
They would probably be surprised to know that I survived to adulthood, and even went on to own a small ranch and cattle. Yes, I'm twice the woman I was back then. Literally. But let's not go there.
Here's a fun photo I just stumbled upon. Literally stumbled upon...dislodged it from a box while trying to straighten up my home office.
That's me (circa 1975/76) wielding the branding iron. I was about eighteen. My first job was working for a cattle breeders association. My days weren't all spent like this. Usually I was going through files, researching bloodlines, and issuing pedigrees. But this was an occasion when they wanted us to get out and see the real deal.
When I think of the poor cowboy (not the one in the picture) who had to be our keeper for the day...poor, poor man. He must have been SO ready to drop me back at the office. We were barely on the road when I innocently asked him a question (really, I didn't know any better then) that made him blush so deeply and stammer endlessly while two of my co-workers in the back seat sprayed Coke-a-Cola out their noses laughing at my naivete. Then we had barely reached our first destination when I approached an insulated fence around a pen, and, wondering how much voltage it would take to keep a full-grown bull inside, I put my hand out to the live wire. So how much voltage does it take, you ask? Enough to knock me back several feet and onto my backside in the dust. Boy oh boy...the looks on the faces of that cowboy and the ranch owner who was hosting us.
They would probably be surprised to know that I survived to adulthood, and even went on to own a small ranch and cattle. Yes, I'm twice the woman I was back then. Literally. But let's not go there.
Oh, honey! Glad you survived. We are about the same age. My first job was working in a poultry processing plant. NOT fun. I spent three years, three months and too many days before I quit. It was definitely a learning experience. The job I am at now has been the best job and I will celebrate (not sure if celebrate is the right word...but glad to be employed) 33 years in February. I had one other job for a month and a half before I started this one, and I was off work for a month between the job I quit and my second job. Longest month in my life. I have been blessed, and never unemployed, to which I praise God for.
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing!
yeesh…and I only picked tomatoes!
ReplyDelete