Yawn

It appears I may be pregnant - I find out the result for sure tomorrow - and can I just say, in between the whirlwind of emotions running through my head, vomiting, agonizing cramps and hormonal madness - I am one gosh-darn boring person. Without coffee, soft cheese, copious amounts of alcohol and nicotine... I am just... DULL. We went for dinner on Friday with a couple that we're normally a little bit loud and wild with, and who from the minute we sit down, don't shut up yapping to - and man, conversation just wasn't  flowing for me. To give myself some credit, I feel like absolute shite, but still. If I am el-prego, I'll be spending the 9 nine months working on being a more remotely interesting human being whilst I grow another one inside of me, because, yikes... This weekend I've slept, read some Harry Potter, slept some more, whinged a lot and, well, that's about it. I've told myself I will attempt to blog every single day, which I can only hope with make me do something worth blogging about each day. 

May Lovin'

As we are rapidly speeding through another month (hello? 2015, is that you? slow it down, mate!) I thought I may as well document what I've been lovin' lately. In no particular order: McDonalds Iced Coffee Frappe. As wrong as it is to admit to this, because they're probably a weeks worth of calories and a months worth of saturated fat, they are just so gosh darn good. They're my fortnightly treat when I head down to visit mum, and make the long drive go a little quicker in my caffeine fueled state. My new king sized bed. Heaven. Fluffy socks. These were a gift from the gorgeous Seah Bear, and I don't even know how to describe their soft, fluffy warmth. It's like walking on little clouds of fuzzy, toasty goodness. Painting. Still up there with my favorite things to do currently. Probably because I can shut my brain off from being an adult for a few hours. I just need to diversify from chickens and cows, as I'm running out of wall space for canvases of the calf. Icy, sunny mornings. Autumn is my favorite time of year, especially when you wake to bright sunshine and frosty paddocks, with the horses breath making them look like dragons. Makes up for rushing home from work to feed/rug ponies/lock up chickens in the few minutes before it's pitch black and the foxes consume the hens and the ponies crack the sads from starving to death. Because 10 minutes is all it takes for a horse to meet his doom should I be late feeding, you know. Yahoo Answers. I know the majority of these people are trolls, but still...people are stupid. And stupidity is freaking hilarious. Woki. My itty bitty, tiny kitty - so much cheekiness in such a small package. This little monster has zero fear, and a lot of personality. She's supposedly a foster, but we'll see how easy it is to let her go. So called Woki as a cross between an Ewok, and a Wookie. Ice Hockey. Each Sunday there's been the playoffs - some live - of the Stanley Cup. Fluffy socks, kitten on lap, watching the hockey = my idea of a good day.

Alt.

Today, my heart breaks.

My sugar plum fairy, my Altosaur, my big bird leaves for his new home. I couldn't have asked for a better 'ending' for him; going to the girl who rescued him from starvation and abuse and nursed him into the healthy, happy boy he is today. I've had his grumpy, cheeky love for 5 years, all the time she's been searching for him after he was sold on from under her. So i can't be sad really, knowing his life will be filled with love and pure happiness that he is now hers, but still. He's been my rock through hard patches, my daily reason to get out bed, the cause of many late night sodden rug changes and sore bones from him bucking me off; he's been my life and soul for 5 years. I never, ever thought there would be a day in my life one of my boys was no longer my own; and this has been one of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make. But I've always known Alt and I haven't had the connection we could have; for whatever reason I've never been to him what I know I am to my other horses. So I'm putting on my big girl panties and knowing I'm doing the absolute best thing for him; and I will always be able to see him and give his darling moustache a kiss when I need to. It makes what is a heart wrenching experience that tiny bit easier. But boy, will I miss the grumpy brown lump with his ridiculously long neck whickering to me every night, and long winter days of cold hands because I won't have his mane to warm up under. I will love my Altosaur forever, even if he's not living in my backyard. 

Killer cow

First and foremost, I can honestly say with 100% conviction that my animals have the best possible life they could possibly lead. If this weren't the case, I would have no hesitation to find them new homes who could offer them whatever I was lacking. I'm known as the Crazy Chicken/Cow/Cat/Horse lady not only at work, but in any circle of people I've ever briefly met. My life basically revolves around their care, their health and their happiness, and then my husband and mum kind of follow behind.

So it's been quite the learning curve this week to visit a cattle forum I was expecting to be a supportive, educational environment where I could learn some things to ensure my little darling SpitSpot would be happy and healthy forever more.

She's at the age where she will be coming into season, and I've not been overly fond of the idea of putting her to a bull when the time comes (and believe me, I've read and read about ideal weight, age, cycle time, age and type of bull, his calf weights and ease of birth scores and so on and so forth). I'm not the sort of person that thinks everything with a womb should automatically reproduce. I'm a major advocate for de sexing companion animals, and can lecture someone for hours on the health benefits from not letting them go on heat or have a litter prior to the chop. For hours. And hours.

So a moo cow it seems is a tad different - or is it? I'm trying to battle my way through information about what happens if she doesn't breed, and.. Well, there isn't any. Cows have calves. You then either kill the boy calf or sell it for meat. The girl calves then have calves when they're ready. And so the cycle continues. 

I have nothing against the beef or dairy industry - I wouldn't say I like the slaughter and need for it - but I'm not one to get on my high horse about it. It is what it is. 

But that doesn't mean I want to be a part of that cycle, and this has caused UPROAR on the cattle question and answers board. I have enraged people. I have been threatened, had my sanity questioned, been called a hoarder, and been informed I should be charged for cruelty to animals. 

Why? I don't have a bull to put my 7-12 month underage heifer to, and if I did, I wouldn't want to kill the calf myself, or keep a cycle of breeding heifers I don't really want to see go to market for meat. I am A BAD PERSON for sourcing alternatives to her spending the next 10-20 years breeding a calf a year. I am cruel for keeping a cow. I am a hoarder for keeping a cow. I should shoot her, keep her head over my fireplace and eat her, because a life with me is a fate worse than death. She will grow to over a tonne, kill me and all whom I love, break out of our farm and hunt people down and kill them because she hasn't had a calf. 

Here's me thinking going on heat for a day ever month if she didn't go in calf wouldn't be the worse outcome in the world. 

I AM WRONG. 

Cows can't be trained. They can't respect me. They can't show affection or loyalty. She will kill me as soon as look at me. She has no purpose in life and should be killed as she is so unhappy not getting pregnant. 

Here's some snapshots of my terrifying, crazed killing machine trying to knock me off for forcing her into a life of misery and pain: 

See? Pure evil. And I don't just mean the cow. Good job I have several months up my sleeve to work out her future baby-daddy, as I can't see too many other options around this, and then obviously the world will end if she has a boy, I keep it, chop it's bits off and they can live a life together of companionship and happiness - and hopefully not too many murders between them, or cruelty to animal charges against me. I have been well and truly generalized as being a mad hippy for not ruthlessly killing a few-hours-old calf and nurturing her to grow into a happy, healthy little heifer, so I'm going to do my own generalizing and say - wow, Americans. Gotta love the attitude of Kill it with Fire! to what they don't know or understand. Here's to my cow and I being complete nutjobs, and bloody happy with it, babies or no babies - better to be a hippy than a keyboard warrior bully with no compassion or desire to live anything but a small, closed existence where killing things because they don't fit the norm is standard practice. Moo to you.