Allow me to introduce you to ‘the prairie oyster’.
The dogs seem to enjoy them. Only not my dog. I think little Daiquiri’s tastes are a tad more discerning than Diva the farm dog’s. Poor little Dac simply needed a way to say…
“No thank you. No bull’s balls for me today. I’ll stick to my Greenies.”
Yes, the realities of farm life kind of hit me over the head today (or was that Diva tossing her prairie oyster around? Note to self: Wash hair tonight.)
No doubt about it. Kellie gets all the fun jobs! Prairie oyster prep. Someone pass their plate.
As if being castrated isn’t enough!
While Kellie has the cattle in the crush it’s a good time to brand them.
This, folks, is what it really looks like when you have a lot of irons in the fire.
So, there you have it. And while Kellie gets all the fun jobs, I am left with the difficult task of writing the prairie oyster into a scene in my current work. I figured the least I could do, even though this book is a long way off, is whet your appetite with this teaser of words–as I’m sure I didn’t do it with the prairie oysters.
Here you go: The excerpt.
‘G’day!’
‘Hello.’ Gina alighted from the car, her once shiny leather boots covered in dust.
‘Where you’ve parked under the tree is fine. Good shade for a couple of hours.’ He spoke as quickly as he walked, barely glancing her way. ‘ We’ll be done by three.’
‘We will?’
‘If we get started without any delays. This way.’
‘Excuse me but . . . You are J.B. Tate?’
He paused to look back. ‘I am. Why do you ask?’
‘You’re not what I expected.’
‘Well, that makes two of us. You’re not the usual run of the mill worker I’m used to either. Not sure why they sent someone so . . . ’ His gazed travelled the length of her body—up and down. ‘Are you sure you can handle it?’
‘I’m quite capable, Mr Tate.’
Whatever the hell it was. Gina was going to do it—and do it well.
************
‘So, you wanna tell me what you had in mind when you fronted up today for the job?’ He was laughing, which was more than Gina was capable of right now. She’d thrown up as the first testicle hit the ground and the kelpie snatched it up.
‘Prairie oysters,’ he’d told. ‘Dogs love ‘em.’
Thank goodness the actual farmhand had shown up in the nick of time.
‘I thought you were your father.’
He chuckled. ‘Ahh, another journalist looking for a new angle, eh? All credit to you for the dedication. Do you always go to such lengths to get your story?’
‘No, no, I’m not a journalist,’ she said, frustration mounting. ‘I know I should’ve said straight up except . . . Well, whenever a man questions my ability—’
‘You’ve gotta prove otherwise. I get it. I do.’
‘I feel like an idiot. I assumed that whatever the job was it would involve the hospitality part of the business. I assure you I can do most things food and event related without throwing up or passing out.’
********
I hope you enjoyed that little tidbit (the excerpt, not the prairie oyster), although I am told some people consider the cow off-cuts a delicacy.
Please let me know if you are one of those people, or if you’ve partaken in one of these meaty morsels, and I will be sure to think twice before accepting an invitation to dinner!
Jokes aside, I know this stuff has to happen. I just wish that they wouldn’t look at me like that.
I keep wanting to say, “It wasn’t me! No bull!”
If you don’t mind a good cow story, you might enjoy Season of Shadow and Light. It has cows and a fun cloven hooves scene – my favourite!
What a great name for a novel.
