Time for the annual mucking out of the feederbunks. Still wet enough to scrape up, but not so wet the tractor sinks to the floorpan. And, with the drains Dale installed last year, chances are that would never have happened anyway, as they worked perfectly, and for the first time in 8 years, we didn't have to lay wooden flooring and walkways and I only wore my full muck boots a few times.
The three young guys helped. Or, rather, they didn't. They just pestered us until I set Cricket on picket duty. But they did go play King of the Mountain on the muck pile as Dale was building it. Boys. If its dirty and smelly and they can make it competitive somehow, they just can't resist it
Alfie's butt and Zenda the steer, waiting for more muck so they can grind their faces into it
|Alfie the yearling bull watches Dale bring in another load. Oh, to have cows that are afraid of stuff! I hear there are such cows about. Not here, of course|