One Cow Down

Meet "Buster", the bull.

He's Anabel's dad--a Lowline Angus, and therefore classified as a miniature. Well, miniature is subjective, as was underscored yesterday afternoon...

It seems that Buster has injured his left rear foot and has been down a lot the past month or so. He's lost a whole lot of weight, too. I guess not being up and around tends to shed a few pounds--if you're a cow. The worst was that he had isolated himself in the farthest corner of the main pasture, far away from food or water. We carted it out to him, but it just wasn't enough. We were really getting concerned that we may lose him before his foot could heal. So, we had an idea...

At this point, there was nothing we could do but TRY to get him over to the arena barn and in a stall where we could readily supply him with much-needed water, hay, and grain. Although he doesn't normally get grain--he's grass-fed--this is an emergency and the extra nutrition would be helpful. The problem? The journey to the stall was at least 200 yards across the pasture. Granted, this doesn't sound like a long journey in the grand scheme of everyday life, but when you're a bull who's still weighing in around 12-1300 pounds with a foot/leg that is out of commission, it is an undertaking. We thought, "Hey, why not take the horse trailer out there, load him up, transport him the distance, and off-load him into the stall...SIMPLE!!" ...NOT!

Unfortunately, Buster couldn't make the step up into the trailer. He was certainly willing, and he was so agreeable and in a terrific mood, but he just couldn't navigate the step. He sure wanted the bucket of grain, however.

So, we had another idea... I would tease Buster with the grain and get him to walk the distance to the stall....SIMPLE!! OK, at this point, you're probably thinking, "Is she stupid? TEASING a BULL with a bucket of grain?!? IS SHE CRAZY?!?!?" Well, you really have to know Buster. Lowlines, by their very nature and breeding are docile creatures. Buster, it seems, is the most gentlemanly bull on the face of the earth. Yes, he's still a bull, and we give him that respect--you know, the gee-this-massive-guy-could-crush-you-in-one-move respect. But we know our limits with him. So, we embarked on the looooooooooong, arduous journey across the pasture--one step at a time.

It took over two and a half hours. Zak was on the golf cart with horse whip in hand to keep any curious onlookers away from the bucket of grain. Buster got tired three times and needed to lay down and rest. But, as I said, he was in a great mood and very willing. He seemed to sense that we were doing something for his greater good, so he worked...and worked....SO HARD...and worked some more.

We were finally within twenty feet of the stall door, when he decided he should go back to the pasture's edge where the love of his life, Scarlett, stood watching. I'm sure you can imagine that keeping Buster from doing what he wants is almost impossible for us mere mortals. But, with the aid of a bale of hay, a red feed bucket, a couple of path railings (4"x6"'s laid out to visually block his path away, we finally were able to get Mr. Bigstuff into his new quarters and shut the gate behind him. WHEW!!! We were exhausted!

We then busied ourselves getting him comfortable with all the water and hay he could handle. At least now, he's out of the rain and hot sun, he can be easily fed and watered, and I don't mind going out and spending a little time with him now and then to scratch his knobby head and ears.

He really likes that.