The Morn' of Preg Checking
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Viking, Minnesota

Rural Reflections Radio

This is based loosely on "Twas the Night Before Christmas"

‘Twas the morn of preg’ checking and all through the house, I was the only thing stirring, the sticky trap got the mouse. My back-belt was hung ‘round my middle with care, Anticipating lifting some cow’s derriere. The puppies were tied to a tire in the yard, Their main goal in life is making herd work hard. With one leg in my Car-harts and one in the bed, I watched Mick and Stacey and the news they read. When out on the lawn I heard a diesel clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tripped over a beer can and got a nice gash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, Made it look too dang cold to start this show. Now bear with me as I try make this rhyme, It was old Doc Cater and he was right on time. As I considered the task, ahead of us lay, I thought to myself-“how ‘bout Saturday? As I poured out some corn, my cattle they came, And I hacked and then coughed, and called them by name. “Now Head-Butt, now, Short-Ears, Now Lil’ Miss and Kitten, Come on, Boss, Come on Boss- Uh-Oh, they listened” To the top of the fence! Crash that bugger down! Just wreck the whole thing then we’ll all go to town. The ground trembled before wild cattle “on the fly”, I hoped and I prayed and then covered both eyes. So up to the feeders the cattle they flew, I sighed with relief, Doc Cater did too. And then in a twinkling they went for the barn, Cattle intent on doing great harm. As I drew in my hand and was turning around, Out the door old Head-butt came with a bound. She was wearing a gate ‘round her hairy black neck, and was leading the rest out the door, now wrecked. A group of young calves, had followed her ‘round, And they looked like young cowboys, just out on the town. My hands---how they trembled! The vet dried my tears. I could see an impending breakdown was near! I was about to give-up, success was nowhere near, Then along came a man and eight tiny reindeer. The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face and was a round little bloke, Chasing cows, I thought, might give him a stroke. He was chubby and plump, but he was the boss, and he rode those reindeer, like a man and a hoss. With a wink of his eye and a shake of his mane, Elves poured out of his sleigh with pink cattle canes! He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And corralled those dang cows; then turned with a jerk. His mouth fell open and then it shut, He looked in the field, we’d missed old Head-Butt. He sprang to his sleigh, with his foot hit the gas, He said, “that one’s too mean, we’ll have to pass”. But I heard him exclaim, as those reindeer peeled out. “I’m a cattle panel dealer, next week, gimme a shout”!