Girlie

I like to think of myself as the modern woman. Or a real Renaissance woman.
I'm not one of those hippie, liberal chicks that spells woman wombmyn or any such nonsense. I do believe that there are very few things that a man can do that I can't do. (Or at least make a valiant attempt.)
Honestly, I'd probably make a better uhousewife than a hippie, equal pay sort of chick.
You're just as likely find me in the kitchen baking as you would doing something 'manly'. Admittedly, I don't do any mechanical work or mow the lawn. I have a husband. That's what he's for.

On the front of veterinary medicine though, we have to realize that greater than 50% of veterinary students are female and greater than 50% of veterinarians practicing are female as well. (This last one has just occurred in the past few years.) In realizing this, we also have to recognize that when you are looking for a large animal vet, that there is a pretty decent chance of getting a woman. Just because you have a dick doesn't mean you went into large animal medicine. I mean I can't imagine one of my closest friends/male classmates being a large animal vet. It would be a disaster every day!

Here he is petting a cow. He tried to pick up its foot like a horse. Luckily, she was a pretty tame cow.

So anyway, I have a tale of two stories of women power...or lack thereof.

A few weeks ago, I was called out to pull a calf just outside of Greenville. When I got there, there were two old men to help. They proudly told me that one was 78 and the other was 82 or something. (I love little old men.) One of the old men had a hook for a hand!!
Anyway, they kept telling me to 'be careful, girlie!' because this big cow was not exactly in the best mood to have a calf pulled. So from the relative safety of the other side of the fence, I managed to drop a lasso around her head and get a halter on her. We got her tied up. The hook handed man kept yelling to mind that my hands didn't get smashed. I suppose once you loose a hand, you're a little more careful where hands get placed.
Luckily, once tied things became fairly easy. The calf was just a little too big and needed a little push (or rather pull). I got the chains hooked up and me and the two old men pulled. We only pulled a few minutes when I convinced them that we should get out the calf jack. With the calf jack, we got the calf out and all was well. He was a big strapping bull calf and everyone was happy. The two cute old men were happy. I was happy (and surprisingly clean). And not once did they mind that I was a woman. And I didn't mind being called girlie.

And now the reverse tale. When I get an emergency call first thing in the morning, I dread it. One because it roused me from sleeping and two because depending on when and what it is, it ends up ruining my day and plans. So I was woken up at 6am by the phone ringing and sleepily answered it. They were looking for DE. I explained that I was the vet on call and maybe I could be of assistance. The insisted that they wanted DE. I was getting annoyed by this time and asked what was the problem was, maybe I could help them. They explained that they had a calf bed out (prolapsed uterus) and the last two times they had a girl out and wanted DE. So I called DE. I was pretty mad. Not only was I mad that they didn't want me to help but that they didn't want a girl...couldn't say woman. Here's the thing. Prolapsed uteruses are not easy to put back no matter who you are.
Luckily, DE explained that I had put in several recently (probably an exaggeration) and the man sort of apologized.
So anyway, the moral of this story is when you have an emergency, don't be a dick. Take what you get and just be grateful that there was anyone on the other end of the line that was willing to help. Even if they don't have a penis.