Wednesday started off just like any other day: eat breakfast, feed the dogs, let the goats out, water the calves, water the garden, do laundry, clean the bathroom, turn Elvira (the Roomba) on, and head to the east pasture to check the cows.
We got out there and went to check if Pirate was in the neighbor’s pasture—a whole other chapter of our lives—and sure enough, she and a friend came out of the trees and headed to the gate to get back in.
We drove our 4-wheeler along the fence line and found two wires down, so we repaired the broken lines and headed back to our property. Then, we moved west, and as we came around the corner to see the neighbor’s property, my husband noticed one of our calves over there. Dealing with this guy is another story, but we needed to get the calf back because this neighbor can’t be trusted and isn’t kind to anyone around.
We pushed the cows on our side further from the fence line, and the calf, while not seeming too concerned, finally started walking our way. We watched as the little bugger got down on his knees and crawled under the fence, meaning more fence repair for us. Fortunately, we found some rolled-up barbed wire near the fence back in the trees and used it to add a bottom line. We also lowered the fourth line by about four inches.
We worked on this for a couple of hours and had nearly finished when I reached for my phone—and realized it wasn’t in my pocket. UGH! That sinking feeling when you’ve been stomping around in leaves and grass in two different places, plus riding the 4-wheeler over a mile one way.
We finished what we were doing and tried to retrace our steps—no phone. I have a bad habit of not having the ringer or notifications on, so that didn’t help either. I waited until it was almost dark and went back to the last place we’d worked on the fence, hoping I’d see it light up before the battery died. No luck.
The next day, we tried retracing our steps again, searching over the whole mile. Still no luck. By the third day, I was starting to accept that I’d have to buy a new phone, which I hated to do. But then, my husband drove over a small hill where I’d been pushing the cattle back, and there it was—my phone on the ground! Hallelujah!
Now, all is right with the world again, and when I’m riding the 4-wheeler, the cellphone goes in my makeshift basket—a milk crate tied to the front—rather than in my back pocket since girl jeans have tiny pockets!
