If you are going to fall on your ass in front of a bull, make sure it's a docile one
"What made you want to become a farmer?"
This is by far and away the most common question asked of my husband after finding out that he did not grow up on a farm. Farming wasn't in his blood. It wasn't a family path. In fact, he had never been near cows, chickens, horses, or pigs prior to meeting me. It does come as quite a shock when people learn that I am a born and raised farm girl and my husband was a city boy.
Not long after we had first started dating, we were driving down my farm's long driveway on our way to get some takeout for our dinner and a movie night. It was such a dreary evening with a heavy enough rain that it soaked through your hair, yet light enough that you didn't quite know if you needed the windshield wipers or not. Plus, there was a chill in the early spring time air. We were passing the cattle's barn and saw something dark on the gravel against the wall. It was a newborn calf! The little guy, at probably only a few hours after birth, had managed to walk under the electric wire and out of the cattle's area.
This would be my husband's first experience with cattle and he became nothing short of panicked. I mean full on, nothing that is going in the ears is registering with the brain, panicked. My dad and I ended up having to ignore him as he aimlessly ran from barn to barn, grabbing items that no one had asked for or needed while we helped the calf up and guided him back into the cattle's area where his mom was waiting.
Two years later, though, was when an accident would make him realize that he wanted to be a farmer. This day was a perfect summer day. The sky was a brilliant blue with white puffball clouds sporadically speckling it. The breeze was light and the humidity low. We were outside, working on my vegetable garden. Weeding and planting, when I ran out of row markers. He went with a bucket to fetch some more large rocks from the cattle's area, which was close by.
Now, when my dad's cattle saw one of those long, white buckets heading their way, they thought that they were going to be fed some grain. Out they came and surrounded my husband as he continued to blindly gather rocks. Just as he was finishing, he felt something soft tap his head and looked up to find a calf sniffing him. That, and almost the entire herd surrounding him with the bull standing between him and the electric wire.
"Help!"
I came running. Not to find my husband standing and waiting for me to help get the bull to move, but to find him lying on the ground with the wire knocked down and the herd, bull included, staring at him as if he was crazy. All, while chewing their cud.
Apparently, he had tried to make a run for it only to trip over the wire and twist his ankle as he fell to the ground. Contrary to what he, and probably everyone else, assumed, the cattle did not charge him or attack. They just remained calm and went right on chewing their cud. I still have no doubt that their thoughts were revolving around, "Well, that's a crazy one," or "Was his goal to twist his ankle?"
Raising calm and docile cattle has always been a priority in my family. For many reasons which include safety, meat quality, and simplicity. Accidents happen and as my husband watched me maneuver around the cattle to fix the fence and then help him up, he learned that if you are going to fall on your ass in front of a bull, make sure that it is a docile one.
This is by far and away the most common question asked of my husband after finding out that he did not grow up on a farm. Farming wasn't in his blood. It wasn't a family path. In fact, he had never been near cows, chickens, horses, or pigs prior to meeting me. It does come as quite a shock when people learn that I am a born and raised farm girl and my husband was a city boy.
Not long after we had first started dating, we were driving down my farm's long driveway on our way to get some takeout for our dinner and a movie night. It was such a dreary evening with a heavy enough rain that it soaked through your hair, yet light enough that you didn't quite know if you needed the windshield wipers or not. Plus, there was a chill in the early spring time air. We were passing the cattle's barn and saw something dark on the gravel against the wall. It was a newborn calf! The little guy, at probably only a few hours after birth, had managed to walk under the electric wire and out of the cattle's area.
This would be my husband's first experience with cattle and he became nothing short of panicked. I mean full on, nothing that is going in the ears is registering with the brain, panicked. My dad and I ended up having to ignore him as he aimlessly ran from barn to barn, grabbing items that no one had asked for or needed while we helped the calf up and guided him back into the cattle's area where his mom was waiting.
Two years later, though, was when an accident would make him realize that he wanted to be a farmer. This day was a perfect summer day. The sky was a brilliant blue with white puffball clouds sporadically speckling it. The breeze was light and the humidity low. We were outside, working on my vegetable garden. Weeding and planting, when I ran out of row markers. He went with a bucket to fetch some more large rocks from the cattle's area, which was close by.
Now, when my dad's cattle saw one of those long, white buckets heading their way, they thought that they were going to be fed some grain. Out they came and surrounded my husband as he continued to blindly gather rocks. Just as he was finishing, he felt something soft tap his head and looked up to find a calf sniffing him. That, and almost the entire herd surrounding him with the bull standing between him and the electric wire.
"Help!"
I came running. Not to find my husband standing and waiting for me to help get the bull to move, but to find him lying on the ground with the wire knocked down and the herd, bull included, staring at him as if he was crazy. All, while chewing their cud.
Apparently, he had tried to make a run for it only to trip over the wire and twist his ankle as he fell to the ground. Contrary to what he, and probably everyone else, assumed, the cattle did not charge him or attack. They just remained calm and went right on chewing their cud. I still have no doubt that their thoughts were revolving around, "Well, that's a crazy one," or "Was his goal to twist his ankle?"
Raising calm and docile cattle has always been a priority in my family. For many reasons which include safety, meat quality, and simplicity. Accidents happen and as my husband watched me maneuver around the cattle to fix the fence and then help him up, he learned that if you are going to fall on your ass in front of a bull, make sure that it is a docile one.
Comments
Post a Comment