What 3,000 pounds of Cattle Taught Me About Letting Go
I gave this talk because a cow taught me something no human ever could.
I gave this talk because a cow taught me something no human ever could.
That's the thing about cattle: they are forgiving. I can bark at a steer at nine in the morning, and by 9:02 he's looking for a treat. Cattle don't hold grudges. They don't read tone. They don't lie awake replaying what you said to them by the water trough.
The internet assured me the easiest spot to draw blood was the tail. Cow number one proved it. I lifted her tail, slid in the needle, and — like magic — blood flowed into the tube. Easy peasy. I labeled my prize, feeling confident, while my team escorted the next victim into the chute.
The Day started with Owen, one of my Highland steers, marching in the Concord Independence Day parade. But the best news was still to come.
Do you want to hug a Scottish Highland steer, or maybe check up on Curious Bleu and his drooping horn? Then join me on July 25 from 1 p.m. to 3 p.m. for the Cow Crew Experience. Spend two hours brushing, hugging, and feeding the Miles Smith Farm herd of cattle.
Cattle are large, powerful animals driven by instincts honed over thousands of years as prey. Understanding those instincts isn’t just interesting trivia — it’s the line between being a safe handler and becoming a statistic. A cow will do anything to protect her calf. Reading her behavior can prevent serious injuries.