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<blockquote data-quote="inyati13" data-source="post: 998041" data-attributes="member: 17767"><p>Thank you. I appreciate your compliments. I get up early in the morning and get on here while I drink that first wonderful cup of coffee. I enjoy starting the day with CT. I get valuable information but mostly I like the entertainment. It causes me to think. It is a nice bonus if someone enjoys what I say besides me. Chris, I do not consider myself an experienced cattleman because I am not. I did grow up with horses and cows. My dad used draft horses when everyone else had converted to tractors. I was kicked by a horse at such a young age that I would not even know about it except that my dad and mom told me I was. I lived in the pasture with the horses and cows. My brother and I would ride the horses bare back when we got big enough that we could find a place where we could get them down hill below us enough that we could crawl on their back. They would just go on eating and we would go where ever they went. I always had mine and he had his. I loved throwing hay down to the cows. My dad put hay up lose. You pull the load of hay in the barn, pull down a fork that was attached to pulleys and then hooked the horse to a single tree, she pulled the load of hay up to a pulley track, the hay went back into the loft and you tripped it. It would come crashing down into the loft with a big swoosh. I was walked over by a horse a couple of times when the hay fell off prematurely and suddenly the load was released off the horse I was leading. I was probably about 9 years old. The horse (big draft horses probably 2800 pounds) would knock me down and walk over me. They seemed like they just knew not to step on me. My dad would come running out of the loft and tell me I was the dumbest dam kid in the world for letting it happen. I knew it just scared him. One time one got me on the ankle. I thought in the excitement that it would be broken. But as God is my witness, that horse knew I was under her and she put no weight on the foot that got me. It did not even swell. That horse was a big belgian we named Bunny. I loved her with my whole heart. I would spend hours on her bare back in the pasture. When dad sold her to a guy who used her to pull logs, I cussed him to myself for a week. I never forgave him. That horse was so sweet. I am getting tears as I write this.</p><p></p><p>I agree with you to the letter on the grooming. I wear hardtoes. I have for 40 years. Cows will step on your feet. You are correct. I have had a couple start headbutting because they don't want you to stop grooming.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="inyati13, post: 998041, member: 17767"] Thank you. I appreciate your compliments. I get up early in the morning and get on here while I drink that first wonderful cup of coffee. I enjoy starting the day with CT. I get valuable information but mostly I like the entertainment. It causes me to think. It is a nice bonus if someone enjoys what I say besides me. Chris, I do not consider myself an experienced cattleman because I am not. I did grow up with horses and cows. My dad used draft horses when everyone else had converted to tractors. I was kicked by a horse at such a young age that I would not even know about it except that my dad and mom told me I was. I lived in the pasture with the horses and cows. My brother and I would ride the horses bare back when we got big enough that we could find a place where we could get them down hill below us enough that we could crawl on their back. They would just go on eating and we would go where ever they went. I always had mine and he had his. I loved throwing hay down to the cows. My dad put hay up lose. You pull the load of hay in the barn, pull down a fork that was attached to pulleys and then hooked the horse to a single tree, she pulled the load of hay up to a pulley track, the hay went back into the loft and you tripped it. It would come crashing down into the loft with a big swoosh. I was walked over by a horse a couple of times when the hay fell off prematurely and suddenly the load was released off the horse I was leading. I was probably about 9 years old. The horse (big draft horses probably 2800 pounds) would knock me down and walk over me. They seemed like they just knew not to step on me. My dad would come running out of the loft and tell me I was the dumbest dam kid in the world for letting it happen. I knew it just scared him. One time one got me on the ankle. I thought in the excitement that it would be broken. But as God is my witness, that horse knew I was under her and she put no weight on the foot that got me. It did not even swell. That horse was a big belgian we named Bunny. I loved her with my whole heart. I would spend hours on her bare back in the pasture. When dad sold her to a guy who used her to pull logs, I cussed him to myself for a week. I never forgave him. That horse was so sweet. I am getting tears as I write this. I agree with you to the letter on the grooming. I wear hardtoes. I have for 40 years. Cows will step on your feet. You are correct. I have had a couple start headbutting because they don't want you to stop grooming. [/QUOTE]
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