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Writing in the Cracks

I have been writing in the cracks, editing my middle fiction story each day.

I manage two pages when I am summoned.

We have been watching a small calf that has somehow been left behind when all the others moved.

No cow seems to be interested and none have wanted to come back for it.

So finally my husband manages to move it into a paddock closer to the shed.

We collect an old blanket and with me in the side by side and D on the bike we enter the bull paddock.

 

‘Just drive quietly between the calf and the bull’, he orders.

I do with one eye at all times on the bull who just glares at me. The calf is flopped down on the dirt.

D moves up stealthily and throws the blanket over him and picks it up like a sling. It seems amazingly strong and sturdy.

 

He shoves it in under my feet and tells me to put my foot on it. But that’s my accelerator foot.

So when I lift it, the side by side shoots forwards and I knock D over. Completely bowl him over into the stones and dirt and cow poo.

 

‘Let’s swap’ I say.

I drive the bike while he follows with the calf under his feet, and I open all the gates.

We get the calf into the yards with all the young weaners, where it has water and feed and shade.

I go back to editing.

Will check on it later this afternoon.