We have an older couple who lives down the road from us. They're in their late 80s or early 90s and are as active as anyone I've ever met. Bill, the husband, used to be a heavy-equipment operator and still is the go-to guy when anyone in the neighborhoods needs a load of gravel, a building pad bulldozed, a trench dug, or any other heavy-duty project.
Bill and his wife own the five-acre pasture directly across the road from us. They have one horse and two head of Angus cattle (cow and bull).
A couple months ago, the cow gave birth to the prettiest calf imaginable – pure white, with dark eyes and nose and hooves. Just darling.
Well, a few days ago the calf got out onto the road. We called Bill to let him know.
Mama and the bull were trotting along the fenceline in agitation, trying to figure out how to get reunited with Baby.
A few minutes later, Bill and his wife make it up to start rounding the calf back where she needs to go. Don and I grabbed a couple of push poles and began gently herding the calf down the road, to where Bill had opened a gate into the pasture. We're old hands at this and it was nothing unusual.
The calf finally saw the gate and dashed through it, reunited with her herd. And then – this was the funny part – Bill literally sprinted across the road to close the gate before the older animals escaped as well.
It was the way he sprinted to close that gate that impressed me. I'm not precisely sure how old Bill is, but I think I remember him mentioning a couple years ago that he was somewhere in the vicinity of 90 years old, which would put him at about 92 now. And he's still sprinting to get a job done.
That's exactly how I want to be when I'm his age. Go Bill.
thanks for the smile and recalling memories of farm days! I once had a Bill but his name was Mario
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