When a 2,000-pound creature decides you’re worth listening to, it feels a little like magic. Not the glittery fairy-tale kind—more like the “pinch me, I can’t believe this works” kind. The kind of magic we could all use.

Horned cattle may not be as danerous as they look.

Two-month-old Owen, a Scottish Highland steer with bangs that could rival any rock star, decided one day that he was not having it. The lead rope went tight—he pulled back like a mule, sprang forward like a kangaroo, and then flopped on the ground. From beneath his shaggy forelock, his left eye glared up at me as if to say, “Lady, you’ve got the wrong steer.”

You have only a week left to schedule a time to bottle-feed these two fantastic calves