I entered Sam and Bingo, my Black Angus–Normande cross steers, in the official log scoot class. In this class, teams of steers drag a loaded sled through an obstacle course. Sam and Bingo did everything I asked. The trouble is, I hadn't asked often enough at home.

Seven times Owen ran off. Seven times I walked him back. Somewhere around number five, I nearly gave up

Topper wasn't being mean. He was being pushed, and nobody likes getting pushed around: not people, not dogs, and certainly not bovines. Push on a steer, and his instinct is to push back. When a steer pushes back, the steer wins—every time.

Last week a fifteen-year-old steer with a six-foot horn span backed off a trailer into my barnyard, and Curious Bleu — who has not hurried anywhere in three years — hurried.