My ’95 pony lost the “nicest convertible top” portion of the show. But on a blue-highway section of Montana she did school a pair of Porches that were travelling together- flat outpowered a 196? Porshe356 that tried to keep me from passing, and lost the accompanying lead Porshce 911 convertible in a canyon. Not that it was the 911’s fault- I would love to have traded cars for that stretch as my old gal is pretty soft in the corners, even with additonal welded undercarriage framing.
Real pony rides are even better than sporty cars. Rudy and I had a great time bringing in the herd for vaccinations and weighing. He is sporting my dad’s newly refurbished saddle. He loves to move cattle, and is an athletic and smart fellow to work with.
The calves are separated from their mothers, and none to happy about it. They will be run through the chutes and given two vaccination shots, get a splash of worm meds on their back, and step onto a scale- it is on the dark side of twilight when we finish up and reunite them with their mothers.
The Black Angus are my father’s purebred herd, and the red are his associate’s Herefords.
The cows await reunion with their calves in the middle corral. The lawn is freshly mowed, as dad and I fixed the riding mower with a new starter motor and a fair amount of tinkering. The lawn had gone dormant in mid July- Aug, but greened up again with the Sept rain/sleet/snow.