Clayton's awe-inspiring tag

As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve lost some of my bravery when it comes to tagging calves. I posted before about brave things that I’ve done in the past, so that you would think that I am cool and brave, but really, I’m not. I'm having a really hard time admitting it, but it's true. Deep down inside, I am a wimp. Especially lately. Maybe it’s because I’m out of practice, not having tagged any calves last year since I was pregnant, but I haven’t tagged a single calf by myself this year, and I don’t particularly want to! Ok, ok, I do want to tag a calf by myself, but I haven’t found the courage yet to do so (PS, if anybody calls me a wimp to my face, I will punch you in your face).

Before I realized that I was a wimp, I attempted to tag a new calf a few weeks ago. No big deal, I’ve done it half a dozen times or so in the past, right? The mama cow was standing nearby, eating her placenta – Ok, here’s a disgusting side note. Cows eat their placenta. The theory is that the mother cow eats the placenta to remove evidence of birth that might attract predators, which might harm her baby. There’s also the theory that it is just so darn nutritive and healthy, so why not eat it? Apparently most mammal animals do it. I’ve heard of humans doing it too, and that just makes me want to vomit, but whatever floats your boat. If you want to eat placenta, go for it, but count me out. Anyway, for whatever the reason, the cows eat their placenta, and I think it’s gross.

Back to the story. Mama cow is slurping up her placenta like a bowl of spaghetti, but still keeping a watchful eye on her new baby, who is lying in the grass close by. I sneak up, loaded tagging gun in hand, slip my hand onto the baby’s ear, position the tag, and just as I start squeezing the gun closed, the calf jumps to its feet and leaps away. In my cowardice, I am imagining the angry mama cow coming after me, so instead of concentrating on firmly squeezing the gun and getting the tag on, I sort of lose my grip and jump away from the calf to protect myself. The sharp tip of the tagging gun grazed the flesh off of the calf’s ear, and the tag, of course, is still on the gun. I didn’t get the job done. The mama cow, now aware that I was up to no good, keeps her calf close to her. And of course, the calf wants nothing to do with me because I just scraped a goodly portion of flesh off his ear. Humiliated at my failure, I slowly walk back to Clayton and tell that I am a no-good cowhand and ought to be fired. Oh, the shame.

Good old Clayton takes the tagging gun from me and goes about to complete the task. I try to tell him that it’s no use, the cow and calf are both too wary now, but he won’t take no for an answer. I watch with some skepticism as Clayton slowly approaches the pair. He crouches down, and to my disbelieving eyes, the calf gradually walks right up to Clayton, cautiously stretches out his little neck and sniffs him. Clayton gently reaches up, caresses the little calf on the head, softly takes his ear and slips the tag on. The calf runs back to his mama, and they live happily ever after.

What the?? My jaw is on the floor. How did he DO that? It’s like the calf was offering himself to Clayton to be tagged. You’d think that the baby would be wary and afraid of humans; after all, I had just ripped a hole in his ear not three minutes earlier. And the mama cow, well, it was like Clayton wasn’t even there. If I hadn’t been there to see it for myself, I never would have believed it. It’s one of the many times that I have kicked myself for not having a camera in hand. It would have been a wonderful photograph; Clayton reaching for the little calf, and the calf stretching up his neck to meet him.

I am now in awe of this man that I married. He must be some kind of cow hypnotist or something. And throughout this whole calving season, I’ve seen him time and again do the same thing. He slowly approaches the pair, waits for the mama to calm down, and quietly reaches in and tags the calf. It makes me almost embarrassed of my “tackle the calf and sit on it” approach; which seems so rough and clumsy in comparison to Clayton’s finesse.

A few days ago, we were out feeding and Clayton was carrying our 10 month old with him as he cut the strings. A day-old calf that he had tagged yesterday was lying in the grass nearby. Clayton approached the calf, petted him softly, and then placed our little girl next the calf. He quickly snapped this photo with his phone, and then they were on their way. The calf never even blinked at having his picture taken with our baby. Lucky me, to be married to this cowboy!

Baby girl, learn from your daddy, and maybe not so much from your mommy.