Date: 07 Oct 96

Yesterday I was racking (transferring from one vessel to another) the '95 Pinot Noir and Cabernet (time for a bit of cellar work). The bucket I was line purging into became filled with a couple of quarts of lees, yeast and wine. Since I wouldn't drink the stuff myself (hence not fit for pigs), it was time for over the fence.

The cattle were hanging around, looking for handouts, so I set the bucket down over the fence. They've been pretty good about finishing off the pomace (grape skins, seeds and stems, after the wine has been pressed off). Naturally, they have become a very functional part of the wine team.

The huge bastard brown bull took one sniff ("Hey, woah, that's got alcohol!) and backed off. One of the black cows pushed him out of the way and proceeded to drink the whole thing. Looked at me like "Got any of that Chardonnay?"

Did she get hammered? Did she even catch a bovine buzz? No effect whatsoever. Here was I thinking the bull might be in for a little romantic action, or that the cow might go on some kind of drunken rampage and take out a few fences before collapsing into a stupor. Nada. Zippo. Pretty boring. Just another Sunday afternoon at Sully's. Come to think of it, it's hard to tell with cattle anyway.

Cheers!

-Sully
(still serving at Il Vino Schizophreno: The Drunken Madman Brewery and Winery)