Big Hat, No Cattle or Cow Tipping

If you don't know by now from all my ramblings then I'm here to tell you: Love Bunny is a model RR train hobbyist. I'm talkin' real enthusiast here. He's turned our 3rd car garage into his train room. I, of course, have zero interest in this hobby. ;-)

However, a few months ago he received these little cows in the mail after searching long and hard for them—and paying a premium for these teensy, tiny cows. Sigh...

Now, when I told him I was going to do a blog about them and asked him to hold them in his hand to show just how tiny they were, they wouldn't stand up. He said, "You keep tipping my cows over." I laughed outrageously of course. I'm a cow tipper? We ended up being ridiculously silly, which is a common occurrence in this house anyway. Well, okay, ME in particular. These are his only cows; he has a big hat but no cattle...other than these.

They come black and he had to paint them brown and white. He looked all over the valley for just the right color of "brown cow." Hah, not easy to come by but eventually he found it. Then he added some white spots for realism.

Then came the pigs. He got those today. (I've had the better part of this post scheduled for 2 or more months now.) To show you how small everything is, I had his hold his hand in front of his tractors and then in front of the pigs. Very teensy.

Now, I don't know much of anything about pigs except that if you hate your neighbor, buy pigs and they'll move posthaste. But here are a bunch of them and one even wallowing in the mud and a mummy pig with her piglets.
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The stake president of our church stake told a story—he originally grew up on a ranch in Wyoming so is kind of a cowboy sometimes when he goes back for a yearly roundup, but is a dentist by profession—that got me laughing so hard once that I couldn't stop. He's a really funny guy.

He, his wife and 4 kids went up for the roundup one year and his youngest daughter was on a horse helping with the cows. Her horse started running with her and they finally got it to stop. But he said she was really fine and nothing much happened that 2 years of psychotherapy couldn't remedy. I laughed and laughed. He's always telling those kind of stories.

Then he talked about once they were herding the cows up to higher ground and the mother cows went on ahead of their babies (I'm not a cowgirl and don't know the technical term for baby cows) and the baby cows kept going over the edge of the mountain trail and getting killed. They finally went up to where the mommy cows were and brought the mother cows back and the baby cows followed the mommy cows and got there safely. Oooooh, that it could be so easy with human kids!

He was going to tell me another story while I was with hubs getting a cavity filled in his dental office but big mouth—me—cut him off and never did get the story, but I shall, trust me. I'll let you know what that one was.
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