Bronwyn came back this morning after checking on the chickens. One of them had died in the night. It was Goldie, one of the original two. She hadn't been laying for a long time, and hadn't been all that keen to eat. So I was out first thing digging a grave before Sarah woke up.

Bronwyn spent most of the morning writing up learning stories. She's got quite a few to get through, and a pile to categorise and file. Meanwhile, I went off to install a couple of memory cards in a friend's computer, buy some chocolate biscuits for the brass band, deposit the rest of their tea money and put up a few posters for the concert next week.

When I got back, Bronwyn went out with Sarah to buy a present for Sarah's cousin Brodie and a couple of plants for the garden, one to go on the grave. I spent a couple of hours sorting receipts for the youth charity and finishing some work that I didn't get to fix yesterday. Bronwyn comes home, and I put the plants in.

We're due to go to Brodie's party, but Dad phones up and calls out Bronwyn. Some minutes later, Bronwyn phones up and asks for a needle, some cotton thread and antiseptic spray. I set off with the sewing box. Apparently a calf had fallen in a ditch and got injured. Rachael came over too. Turned out that Dad had attempted to chainsaw a tree root to free the calf, and the calf had thrashed round and got a cut from the chainsaw. Not serious, but Bronwyn attempted to stitch it back up anyway. She gave up, the skin was really tough. Allan was there, and called the vet. They sent Rachael down to the gate to let him in.

Meanwhile, I went back, and managed to peel Sarah away from the television, wrapped up the present and took everything over to Brodie's birthday party. Shortly after, Brodie's dad Stephen (i.e. Bronwyn's brother) got a call. He manages a large farm north of the village, and there's a lot of maize. There's also a lot of cows. Also in the maize. 600 of them. Stephen drives off to try and get them out.

Bronwyn, Rachael and Allan arrive at the party. It had gone well. The calf had put one leg down into an underground stream, but with a little assistance, a long chain and a tractor, they'd got her out. The vet decided that stitches weren't necessary, and gave her a shot of antibiotic and painkiller, and she was off round the paddock in no time.

Stephen and the rest returned, and we finally had dinner. Just another day on the farm...

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