I thought there would be Naval Air in here!

Ha-ha-ha! Wanna give God a giggle? Make some plans!

I really wanted to have a good half of my posts centered on Naval Air. It was a big part of my life and I've got a metrick butt-ton (MBT) of sea stories*, some of which are even true, more or less.

For example, "This is no $#!+. I was, 'working' the roof on Midway (CV-41) BITD, and I found myself, no $#!+, strapping my mom into a jet."

Peg "Fishstick" Evertson in the mighty War Buckeye, ready to taxi to the cat on USS Midway, circa 2012. 

And furthermore, over at Sarge's Place, Juvat has a great tale of bleed air and sims. Which reminds me. "This is no $#!+, I spent a little time in the right seat of the Intruder, and I plan to share the details of that good fortune (and a picture of the scar it left) someday, but not today, because I'm short on time. Anyway, we were launching out of Oceana in a gaggle, heading for Roosevelt Roads and an Orange Air Det. Our jet was heavy with gas, a full internal bag and 8,000 lbs on the wings. As we waddled down the runway, there was a bang as we neared 100 knots, followed by a master caution for bleed air. Followed by PC1 and PC2 bleeding out. Followed by a fire light. Then the other fire light."

I'll flesh that one out in the near (more of less) future. As Juvat noted in his post, the BOLD FACE for bleed air is rather sparse. Basically GTFO.**

Spoiler alert! I'm still here.

But I digress. Spring and fencing.

I kicked the yearlings over to spring grass yesterday. These are calves born last spring, which I've kept over the winter rather than sell. The plan is to put some "free" pounds on them by grazing over the summer, then sell them in the fall for a huge profit. Will that scheme work? I'll get back to ya in the fall.

Young cattle are a joy, but they come with an attitude. This one's always sticking his tongue out at me. Click to embiggen and get the full juvenile effect.

There's always one...

Sigh.

They seem to like their new home. Especially the tender green springtime grass. Down at the bottom of the gully behind them is the place where a truck came to grief over the winter. Did I mention that I-80 runs right smack through the middle of this pasture?

Picked the wrong place to run off the road. LOOK AT MY FENCE!!!

All better. Don't get me started on NDOR and insurance companies.

The fence wrecked by the truck is fixed, but the rest of the eight miles of perimeter fence on this pasture needed attention. We live in a dynamic world. Frost heave, wind, tumbleweeds, sunshine and rain, snow drifts, antelope and deer, cattle (?), oxidation, time. Every spring it takes a bit of fixin' to make it right.

And the fixin' takes time. Which I've been managing poorly, at least as far as the blog is concerned. I do get a few pictures, though, so it's not all a loss. And I'm working on the time management thing.

Random pics from yesterday.

Sigh squared. Thank goodness for recyclers.

Oh that's a pretty spring picture! Better in person.

Kimball, 1 Mile. Dump your firetrucking cans there, please.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I've had more than enough coffee so I really oughta be fixin' fence. Cheers! 


*A fairy tale begins "once upon a time," but a sea story begins "this is no $#!+."

** Get The Firetruck Out. Can be taken two ways, and often is.