Kat Dancing

Random political stuff which doesn't require me to think but still counts as an update.

Also, it's pretty good.

Also, I nicked it from oletheros.

Current score: 7 calves Saturday, 6 calves Sunday, 3 today but the night is young. Some random number have calved so far. Upwards of fifty. Lots. You want to know, you count the buggers when they're all running around and stuff.

Average hours Kat gets to sleep a night: 6.

I haven't been posting recently, which is nothing new, but I have a good reason for it, which is.

Reason being, we've started calving.

We have 50 cows due within the first two weeks.

You do the math.

This also means that my life is being governed by the Laws of Calving, which take precident over all other natural laws, including those of space, time, and gravity. They are:

The Ten Natural Laws of Calving Season

First Law. Given the choice of calving in nice, sunny, warm weather and when there's eight inches of snow on the ground and a sub-zero windchill and sleet coming at you sideways, a cow will always calve in the worse weather.

Second Law. Given the choice of calving at around noonish when the humans have just had their lunch and nothing else important is going on and calving at three in the morning when there's no moon and the neighbors have just rung to say that the rest of the herd is standing in their lawn looking in the windows, a cow will always calve at the worse time.

Third Law. Given the choice of calving in a level, dry, sheltered spot and calving in the muddiest vertical stretch of hillside to be found... take a wild guess.

Fourth Law. The hormonal surges associated with calving cause a cow to temporarily misplace her brain. This may have been suggested by the first three laws, but believe me, that's only scratching the surface. Common misconceptions brought on by the Fourth Law include:

The calf is not in fact a calf, but an alien parasite which had taken residence inside the cow's body and must now be destroyed.

Human are not in fact the rather bumbling feed-carrying ineffectual-arm-waving creatures that they seem, but rather calf-eating monsters who must now be destroyed. This is why preperation for calving should include some training in short uphill sprints and the all-important "clearing the fence" long jump.

Dogs are not in fact dogs, but wolves, and must be destroyed. This always comes as a surprise to the dogs, who are still under the delusion that they are dogs, and therefore not prepared to meet the challenge with fang and fury. Instead they run away.

On rare occasions the delusion extends to believing the cat is a mountain lion, if an exceptionally-fast-tree-climbing mountain lion, and we had one cow who attacked the chickens. We do not know why.

The cow herself is not in fact a cow, but a bull, and therefore everything in existance besides her must now be destroyed. There is generally some bellowing and pawing of the ground involved.

Afterbirth tastes good.

A calf is not a calf unless its feet are on the ground. If its feet leave the ground - say, because a human has picked it up and is trying to carry it into the barn - you, the cow, must run around desperately searching for the calf and bawling and refusing to be moved. Ignore any calf-shaped objects the humans are waving under your nose. They are only trying to distract you.

This is, of course, the short list. But it's more than enough to make my point.

Fifth Law. Calves, on the other hand, are born with fully functional brains. They use them to spite humans. Signs of stupidity on the part of the calf are merely a ruse designed to lure humans into complacency and/or to make life more difficult for them.

Sixth Law. Wearing clean clothes attracts body fluids, of which there's a hell of a lot around right now, and of which the usual urine/manure combo is the best that can happen.

Seventh Law. Making plans causes calves. Particularly if said plans involve leaving the farm.

Eighth Law There is an inverse relationship between time and calves. That is, the more things you have to get done, the more calves are born. Usually the things that you are prevented from doing are things that were supposed to make calving season easier, and which you will be cursing yourself for and trying to get done for the rest of calving. This means, of course, that you have less time, which means more calves. It's a lovely cascade effect which contributes to the nervous breakdown you should schedule for halfway through the season, except, of course, you won't have time for that either.

Ninth Law. On a related note, you don't need nearly as much sleep as you think.

Tenth Law. Everything about your life which is not absolutely necessary to you - everything luxurious, optional, or self-indulgent - will be made obvious to you, because you won't have it any more. Calving season pares everyone down to the essentials. Spare time? Showers? That skin on the back of your knuckles? All completely optional.

Soooo... if you're wondering why I'm not posting, refer back to this post. And no complaining, or you're going to be wondering who could possibly have sent you ten pounds of placenta in the mail....