I hate cows.

But not as much as I hate pigeons. And badgers.

Once again, it is bin cleaning time. This year, the girls have been joining me in the bins. We're actually getting to have some sort of a system...I sweep around the bin, Joey sweeps little bits into Charli's shovel, then Joey switches and I sweep into both girls' shovels. Char uses the little snowshovel from my car - it is perfect - short handle, lightweight. With the bin building going on, Dale can't leave the yard, but the kids can't do anything here, so cleaning bins with mom is as close to supervised child care as we get.

In the past few days we've managed to do out seven bins. Not bad, considering the underage workforce. But then, it was time for Moffat's. Moffats have cattle. In with the bins. So, you really need to watch your step, and also have a gate to deal with. Always, always, always close the gate, especially when the cattle aren't your own.

The cows aren't scared of me. Last year, when I was unloading grain into those same bins, the rotten things kept eating out of the hopper of the auger. Dale never saw the things when he was in that yard. So I already have a great dislike for them.

This year, I pulled the truck into the yard, and not one cow moved. The girls wouldn't leave the truck, but chose instead to watch them mill around. The first stage of bin cleaning is reconnaisance, so that wasn't a big deal.

Bin one (ours) - fine. A bit of barley. Nothing major.

Bin two (ours) - the same.

Bin three (not ours)...well, I opened it, and there was a scene from an Alfred Hitchcock movie. I actually covered my head as pigeons come swooping out the door. Birds leave, I look in. Phone Dale. No answer. Look again. Someone had left the lid off of the bin. Two years ago. It is now a breeding coop for pigeons, and I wasn't exactly sure how I would clean that without the vacuvator.

Bin four- It was okay, a bit more canola on the floor, but still, I couldn't get past that bin # 3.

So, I made an executive decision - told the girls to buckle up (it was getting warmish anyway) and thought I would leave.

Nope.

Got the truck stuck. The back wheels were in fresh cowpatties, and the front one fell into a badger hole. And the 4x4 option wasn't liking to engage. So, phoned Dale. Still no answer. Got back in the truck, finally rocked the darned thing out of the hole and headed for the gate.

Then I hear Char: "Mom, you startled the cows!" Took all the strength I had to grip the wheel...

We're going to get parts for the vacuvator tomorrow. And Dale has now turned his ringer on.