How to Make Cow Friends And Alienate People

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Visitors from Massachusetts were enjoying the Ultimate Cow Experience with my Scottish Highland steer, Curious Bleu, when a woman and her daughter wandered over. I asked who they were and said a tour was underway.

The woman said, “I’m Sharon, and this is my daughter.”

Distracted by the tour, I must have said something like, “Horned cattle are tied out,” and I thought I told them, “Please don’t get too close to them; I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Sharon had just checked into a Suite in my Farmhouse and only wanted to walk around the farm. It turns out she did get hurt.  Not by a horn. By me.

The next day, after they had checked out, I found a note in their room saying my words had wounded her. I was flabbergasted. What had I said? How had I said it? I replayed the moment over and over like a bad country song. All I could do was refund her payment, apologize, and ask for forgiveness.

Here's my problem: I talk to people the way I talk to cattle. Direct. Firm. No filler.

With a 2,000-pound steer, this is not rudeness. It's survival. When Bleu is drifting somewhere he shouldn't be — say, toward a tourist's sun hat — I don't say, "Excuse me, Bleu, when you have a moment, would you mind terribly reconsidering your trajectory?" I say, "Bleu. Back up." And Bleu backs up. No hurt feelings. No note was left in his stall.

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. If a cow takes real offense, she lets you know immediately, with a hoof, and then you're even.

In twenty-plus years of farming, not one bovine has ever checked out early because of my attitude.

People, it turns out, are more complicated. People come with feelings, expectations, and a lifetime of conversations where "Who are you?" is not a safety protocol but a challenge. What I meant as "I'm keeping you away from the pointy ends of a half-ton animal" apparently landed as "You don't belong here." I was guarding her from horns and gored her with words instead.

Maybe that's why I became a farmer in the first place. I understand cattle. I can read a twitching ear, a shift of weight, a tail held just so. A steer tells you exactly what he's feeling.

So this was a hard lesson for me. I'm working on softening the delivery — adding a "Welcome" here, a "So glad you're visiting" there — before I get to the part about not standing next to the horns. The message can be firm. The messenger can smile.

Visit Miles Smith Farm to meet my cattle and see the Ultimate Cow Experience for yourself. 

My cattle will be the ones with horns. I’ll be the one trying to be polite.

Click Here to Book your Ultimate Cow Experience

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Carole Soule is co-owner of Miles Smith Farm in Loudon, N.H. Carole can be reached at carole@cow-coach.com.