Mountain Falling

Since Sir Edmund Hillary took the top of Mt. Everest and became the classic mountain climber, I have taken the bottom of Paddock #1 and therefore have become the classic mountain faller.

It really wasn’t my fault. Oh, I may have been a contributing factor; all right THE factor but I steadfastly claim that the cow paddy deserves some of the censure.

It all started about 4:30am when high winds blew in lashing rain. I congratulated myself on escaping the dreaded orchard watering for yet another week and went back to sleep. Now I check our livestock twice a day – sometimes more. This morning was no exception. But it was windy, chilly, and wet, wet, wet. So I set off down to the red, red barn paddocks to check the steers and the sheep.

The sheep were fine. Probably discussing whether Godot ever arrived or something else beyond me. But I couldn’t find the steers. Not that I looked too hard. I assumed that they were in the little corral by the barn and turned for the trek back up to the house.

Now that probably was my first contributing factor – my laziness. And my dislike for being cold and wet. I should have ventured into the paddock to make sure all 4 black steers were present. I didn’t. Instead I crept back to the house and my dry room and exciting book.

But my sins of omission tend to catch up with me. It had quit raining by the time I went for my afternoon bed check but it was cold and damp so I wore my parka (the only smart thing I did all day). Sure enough, there were the sheep, happily munching away. But where were the steers?  I could see over 2/3 of the paddock and no steers. Groaning I prepared to scale Paddock no. ! to check down the ravine on the other side. Now remember I had no hiking equipment, no Sherpas, no grappling hooks. Just me against nature. An unequal contest.

By procrastinating in the morning, I ensured that I had to hike up the mountain through chest high grass that was also wet chest high grass. Just a little bonus for my laziness. I got to the top and sure enough there were the steers down the other side. They looked at me and started to come toward me, Rusty in the lead as usual. So I turned to go down the way I had come up but somehow managed to step in a wet, slippery cow paddy and away I went.

I tumbled, I slid on my backside, I rolled onto my front side, I twisted and turned but I kept on my downward trajectory. I think it was all that wet grass but it was a bit like a sled ride. Luckily for me I was wearing my parka so all I have are a few bruises. The worst ‘injury’ is getting my glasses jammed into the bridge of my nose. Otherwise, not too bad.

So I am now the classic mountain faller! Autographs anyone?