Come in no. 47, your time is up.

Today, Eric did no. 47. 'Did' being the Kiwi word for slotted.

Slotted being the Tanner word for slaughtered.

Eric had decided to do his own butchering this year after a local
butcher stuffed up the order earlier this year.

Much planning & thought went into which cow was to be done.

The choice was between no. 47 , a mild-mannered sweetie or the previously
described evil incarnate that is Petunia.

No. 47 had the bad fortune to be standing closest to the barn when Eric
hefted his .22 & so it was upon her head that the fickle, sickle of fate swung.

Or more accurately, it was her head that was left barely attached to her body
after Eric had slit her throat to bleed her. I will try not to go into TOO much detail
here for the townies (Stu, I can hear you saying there has already been too much).
Suffice it to say, you remember the advert for the toothbrush with the guy with
the flip-top head ?

During breakfast, Eric indicated that he was having problems skinning no.47, as
he could not get in underneath to do it. I offered him a hand & a couple of
minutes after we had finished breakfast I headed down to the barn.

I wasn't too concerned about seeing a dead cow as I saw plenty at Marfell
Downs. What did surprise me was the smell. She had only been dead an hour
but (bad taste warning, townies don't read) the body had bloated hugely & the
gases escaping the severed oesophagus were gut-churning.

With hindsight, maybe a full English wasn't the best meal to eat beforehand.

As I left the barn, thankful that Eric said he could now manage, Michelle
said I looked odd & asked if I was upset. I was upset, but not at the sight
of the cow, just that I may lose my breakfast so soon after consumption.

I then chatted with Bill for a while & ventured back down to the barn to
ask if the workers wanted tea. I could tell by Eric & Michelle's expressions
that a lot had occurred in the barn in the time I had been away.

Michelle, hugely practical as ever, was sawing away at the back end,
whilst Eric, who was sweating like a paedophile in Mothercare,
was indulging in WWF wrestling with his temperamental chainsaw.
The chainsaw would fire into life, cough & splutter & fade away
with the threat of real work.

I discovered later in the day, that Michelle had offered to help with the
skinning & had ended up 'up to her elbows in lungs & trachea'.

break for dinner, to be continued ...

After much tugging & many Anglo-Saxon words (from Eric), 4 huge, skinned
slabs of cow were loaded onto the trailer, to be transferred to the chiller.

This was where the real fun began.

The quarters were incredibly unwieldy & far too floppy in the heat.
I will leave you to imagine how bad the flies were on this very hot day.
Eric & Michelle manhandled the sides between them & passed them to
me. I stood in the chiller & attached hooks to the strings which ran through
them.

That paragraph has taken a couple of minutes to type. In reality, that part of
the job took over an hour. All of the following were really said during that hour.

"I can't squat"

"I can't see the end, is it in yet ?"

"Aaaarrrghh - f***ing trailer"

"You come around here & bend down like this & we'll load it onto your back"

"I don't think this chiller is going to be big enough"

"Don't complain to me when you lose all your fingers"

"We dont need to move the mower though"

"Can you move the mower please ?"

And with classic Tanner timing (although it's usually Michelle)
after I had grappled with the interior shelves during the loading
of 3 of the 4 quarters.

"Those shelves lift out, you know"

At the end of the loading, all 3 of us were covered in fat, bone splinters & blood.

It may be some time before I fancy eating beef again.

As before, with Gertie, the other cows display the appearance of
knowing that 47 has disappeared. During the butchering,
they all stood as close to the barn as possible, despite having
acres of paddock to move around in.

Then, as Eric drove through their paddock with the trailer behind him, they
followed, looking at the trailer.

This evening, as I type, they are lowing & trying to gain entry to the barn.

I envisage a Larson-scenario with one of them doing a head-count
again & again & always coming up one short.

Today, despite all the insults & recriminations, I was impressed, as ever
at how well the Tanners work together. Eric is totally committed to getting
a job done, no matter what the physical effort involved. Michelle grafts
harder than most women & some blokes as well as supplying the diplomatic
lubrication.

This evening we dined on the deck (chicken thank goodness) & decided it
was a job well done & that next time Eric will get in the home-kill guys.

Eric & Michelle are oohing & aahing at baby foties, in the days before
the girls learned to communicate by asking "Why meeeee ?"

I owe lots of e-mails & can only apologise if you are one of the people I
owe them to. But for now bed beckons & another hard day at work.

Where did the weekend go ?

Stan - 11 days to go !
Tony - Thinking of you, hope the Oakleys are helping ?
Lovely Col - Hope things turn out ok - big hug.

Mummeh - Can we have a puppeh ?

Goodnight all,

Cx