{"id":17420,"date":"2022-02-09T00:51:33","date_gmt":"2022-02-09T00:51:33","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/?p=17420"},"modified":"2022-02-08T20:52:29","modified_gmt":"2022-02-08T20:52:29","slug":"watch-their-aim","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/2022\/02\/09\/watch-their-aim\/","title":{"rendered":"WATCH THEIR AIM"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"
Bryce Angell – The outdoors has always been a large part of my life. My father was an outfitter and guide for 35 years and I was there to shoe and care for the horses and help him do the cooking. We took many great trips into the Yellowstone area. Even now that I\u2019m older, we still ride into the Tetons, Yellowstone and surrounding areas. My poems are mostly of personal experience. I am now retired and enjoying life to the fullest. I plan to do more riding and writing.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

The winter, 1963, I was barely 10 years old, and learning how to milk our cows, night and morning, in the cold.<\/p>\n

I poured the grain and watched them eat, each cow in her own stall. Their stomachs churned away down low, forming cud into a ball.<\/p>\n

That cud then slid back up their throat. It seemed a little crude. And when I quizzed my dad, he said, \u201cIt\u2019s undigested food.\u201d<\/p>\n

I thought it seemed a little strange to belch up all that food, then start the process once again with stuff that had been chewed.<\/p>\n

My father said, \u201cDon\u2019t worry, son. These cows know what their doin\u2019. It\u2019s in their genes to ruminate. They just keep on a\u2019chewin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe hay and grain they\u2019re eating is what makes the milk each day. We take it and we sell it. That\u2019s how we get our pay.\u201d<\/p>\n

He then gave me a warning, \u201cWatch those cows that have a cough. If you\u2019re anywhere behind them, try to stand a distance off.\u201d<\/p>\n

That\u2019s all he said about the cough. He didn\u2019t elaborate. But what he was implying was about to be my fate.<\/p>\n

I walked behind old Flossy. She coughed and out it flew. The speed with which it hit me must have been at least Mach 2.<\/p>\n

So, the food that cows are chewing is changing as it flows. What don\u2019t make milk or muscle, well, out the back it goes.<\/p>\n

It hit with such a splatter that my eye was matted shut. I\u2019ve had some worse things happen, but I can\u2019t remember what.<\/p>\n

My father laughed and said, \u201cToo bad! This ain\u2019t a time for blamin\u2019. The next time you\u2019re behind a cow, give heed to where she\u2019s aimin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n

So back he sent me to the house to get a real quick shower. My mother saw me, laughed, and said, \u201cYou smell just like a flower.\u201d<\/p>\n

My mother opened up the door and handed out to me, a hot wet towel to wipe my eyes. I still could barely see.<\/p>\n

But the towel was frosting over. It was almost 10 below. She said, \u201cKeep on a wiping, son. I\u2019ll fill your tub. Now go!\u201d<\/p>\n

The years went by. I milked the cows, so faithful, twice a day. I\u2019ve had some time to ruminate and now I\u2019ll have my say!<\/p>\n

Seemed most my days were milking cows. I can\u2019t say I was bilked. But no matter how hard I tried, those cows would not stay milked.<\/p>\n

\u00a0 <\/span>\u2013 Bryce Angell<\/i><\/b><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The winter, 1963, I was barely 10 years old, and learning how to milk our cows, night and morning, in the cold. I poured the grain and watched them eat, each cow in her own stall. Their stomachs churned away down low, forming cud into a ball. That cud then slid back up their throat. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"tdm_status":"","tdm_grid_status":"","_pvb_checkbox_block_on_post":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[160,2],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-17420","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-cowboy-poetry","7":"category-commentary"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17420","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=17420"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17420\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":17422,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17420\/revisions\/17422"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=17420"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=17420"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=17420"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}