Thursday, 17 January 2013

The Dangers of Loading Cattle


The dangers of Loading Cattle  

As he (the steer) quietly turned and ducked backwards, his rump hit the crush gate, springing the partly open gate shut very rapidly, me with me yed ducked down in the crush got a ding on the head.      (I must add that this happened in October 2011)

On the odd occasion, now and then, things take a different turn to what you have planned for that day. I had planned to take two big steers in to Market, checked their tags, they had been pre-movement TB tested, filled the entry form and signed the passports.

Up early on the morning with the trailer already hooked up to the Land Rover, leaned over the field gate and shouted the bunch of cattle down to the yard where they have been starting to eat some silage. Once in the shed it was a matter of sorting out the two I wanted, and run them into the race. On the end of the race is the cattle crush from where we are able to load cattle directly into the trailer.
Reversed up the trailer with the tailboard right up to the crush gate, pulled in a side yard gate, and opened the trailer side gates. Everything is set with no possibility of escape, a job I done so many time over the years. Opened the race gate for the cattle to move forward through the crush and followed them through the crush tapping them on gently with a stick.

First one walked into the trailer then as the second one walked in, the first one turned and walked back out onto the tailboard, I pulled the crush gate almost too shutting myself safely inside the crush at the same time tapping the head of said bullock who proceeded to turn and go back into the trailer. As he quietly turned and ducked backwards, his rump hit the crush gate, springing the partly open gate shut very rapidly, me with me yed ducked down in the crush got a ding on the head. I clung onto the bars of the crush and gathered myself enough to realize both bullocks were standing patiently waiting for me to close the tail board which I duly did, only to realize I was loosing blood.
Sometimes these "old men's Tablets" that thin your blood are not a good thing when ya geta ole in ya ed, anyone would think that there is greater pressure if the hole is at the bottom of the tank, but then this is a pumped leak, at the top of the "stack" but still it leaked at a worrying rate.

Not wishing to stain the seats in the vehicle, I drew my jacket round to form a canopy on my lap whilst I drove the outfit down to the house where I sprinted (at my sprint) to the back door and got under the cold tap over the kitchen sink. A bit of firm pressure and after a few minuets it all but stooped bleeding (down to a drip). I threw my jacket shirt and jeans into a bucket of cold water to soak and put clean ones on again. Me wellingtons, well the last time I saw them in that state was when we used to kill and stick turkeys, caked with blood, wash them under the back yard tap.

In the meantime it felt safe enough for me to go through to the office to ring Mark, a chap who helps me on a part time basis, as and when needed. Well, now he was needed, he was not too far away, and he took the cattle down to market for me.
Next I rang my daughter to come over, and she was able to take me to the notorious STAFFORD HOSPITAL, (its been in the national news over the last year and questions asked in parliament about the number of patient usually older patients, being lost through neglect, too busy looking at saving on their budget, not enough front line nurses). Eileen my misses was the last to be told, as she can get very worried, it always looks so much worse when there is so much blood, ( too much stress at her age is not good for her) she examined the wound and said get off and get it stitched.

Six stitches pulled it together quite neat don't you think

By now it was 9am with about three people waiting in A&E (accident and emergency), we waited an hour only to be told they had no doctors on duty, and until one arrived, they could not proceed with any treatment. Another half hour and I was called through into the treatment cubicle where I could see a senior member of staff instructing a couple of young doctors of their routine, then eventually a full qualified doctor (at least I hope he was) came in with one of the new recruits, and went in details of what other pain or ailments other than what he could see, the proceeded to put in six stitches. 

He made a neat job, and a plaster was stuck over the wound. It was not until the following day when the black eye began to appear. The result is in the picture taken two days later.


How does the old saying go
A stitch in time save nine -- in this case it could mean nine pints blood

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