For several years, now, my oldest sister and youngest brother have operated a small cattle-raising business. They’ve raised from four to six Scottish Highlanders, which are known to be a docile, compact breed which produce a lean meat. They are known for their long horns and wavy coats. My siblings buy babies, feed ’em out for a couple of years, and then sell the beef. The family freezers are full about every other November.
This cattle thing has sparked a variety of adventures, which include small steers sliding under the fence and ending up by the road, to a “finished” steer avoiding the pick up by leaping the fence, and escaping into the neighborhood. That guy caused fence line searches and farmers-turned-cowboys to comb the woods and cornfields. The runaway steer still lives, by the way. Elsewhere, I might add.
The last batch, which included the renegade escapee, evidently had a crazy daddy. His babies did not have the docile personality credited to their breed, and so the bull “disappeared” because of bad behavior on all counts. He is no longer around to produce psycho babies.
Now the new batch (fold) of steers is ensconced in their new digs at my sister’s place. There are six…two reds, two browns, and two blacks. They have a calmer daddy, a bull by the name of Elvis, who is black. Black is apparently an uncommon color for a Scottish Highlander. Learning from past experience, my brother also had the fold de-horned.
Elvis was first introduced to the family a couple of years ago, when my brother was making arrangements for a buy. He must’ve been impressed, because two of the new babies are Elvis look-alikes.
Not to jinx the current situation, but so far the Elvis’ steers are doing pretty well. No drama, as of this morning, at least. I wonder how they’ll turn out when my sister starts singing to them. I’m going to suggest Love Me Tender as the theme song.