The bull charged full speed toward me. I swung my arms and shouted, and just a few feet in front of me, he veered left and sailed over a 3-foot electric fence with the grace of a Thoroughbred horse. After jumping two more fences and charging through a wire gate, he ended up back in his original field. This happened several years ago, shortly after we purchased a Scottish Highlander bull named Gregory to breed our cows.
The calf was due in December, sometime around Christmas Day. So we sequestered Puff in the holding pen and would check on her during the night. Puff, a silver Scottish Highlander, is an old cow, age 14, and because her last calf died, we were prepared to give her some help if she needed it.
After parking the truck with the Miles Smith Farm logo on the door, I pulled my hood over my head and dashed for the entrance to the fast-food joint, hoping not to be recognized. My preaching about buying locally raised food did not fit with my impending snack. ("Hypocrite" is such an ugly word.)
This holiday season, with Impeachment looming like the elephant in the room, most of us have been trying to steer clear of politics for the sake of peaceful extended-family feasting. At the farm, we're too busy keeping our livestock fed to risk a partisan quarrel by hosting or visiting relatives. My livestock might have terrible table manners, but their only politics is Food.
It's that time of year when farmers dress up as shepherds and present their sheep, goats, and oxen in a living Nativity scene. Well, most farmers don't, but this one does. This tradition began in the year 1223 after Saint Francis of Assisi visited the birthplace of Jesus and was inspired to stage a re-enactment.