The cowboy steps from his clay bank mount, a syringe clutched between his teeth and a log book in his vest pocket.
The cowboy steps from his mount, a syringe clutched between his teeth and a log book in his vest pocket. He makes his way to a day-old calf that’s too busy licking its mother’s ear tag to realizes it’s about to get one of its own and then some.
Kurt Mraz sweeps the young ’un off its hooves so quickly that the calf’s quizzical expression hardly changes before it’s flat on its side, the cowboy’s shin resting on its neck.
Mraz’s hands probe for the best place to administer the vaccine. Then he lets the young Angus raise its head. The calf cranes its neck searching for its mother on the snow-crusted plain. Mraz buttons a bright orange tag to the calf’s right ear, then lets it rise, shakily.
It’s a startling welcome to the Lazy SR, and for that matter to the world. Mraz puts the animal’s vitals in his log book and moves on.
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