Bad To The Bone Bovine

To all you ranchers who wonder (with a chuckle), where did that horrible #161 red angus and that bear of a black angus (she didn't even have a tag, although you probably couldn't catch her to tag her) go after they left my place?

Well, here they are; at the Fairchilds. 

To those of you who don't know so much about cattle, that's ok. You'll probably learn alot from this blog.  =)  We custom feed cattle, which means we're like bovine babysitters for a customer who buys cattle but either doesn't want the hassle or doesn't have the room for them.  We take care of and feed them for a certain amount of time until they're the right market weight and the owner, will sell them for slaughter.   We like to make their final stop a good one, mean or not, we take great care of people's cattle and we take great pride in what we do.

With that said, we can tell who's culled out of a herd for their "anger management" issues.  First I'd like you to meet "Cowzilla" a large framed black baldy.  Usually, I take much better pictures, but I didn't dare step into the pen with her. I've already had her coming at me in a hard run while I shouted and tried in vain to chain the steel gate between us.  Note her docile appearance for the camera, that's a lie friends.  Right before I took this, she was already pawing the ground and swinging her head around.  We had our church picnic at our place last night and the evening finished with a hay ride through the farm.  Let me tell you, she came running up to the front to see the comotion and was cocking her ears and swinging her head.  Oblivious to what she was doing, the town folk on the wagon enjoyed the ride, but Ron and I were thankful we didn't have to swing any gates or anything, she was primed to get someone.  The good thing was, we did have a priest on the wagon to read us our last rights. 

Next, I'd like you to meet "Fish Hook", while trying to get her up the alleyway she turned on Ron twice and tried to pin him between the continous fencing and a gate he was trying to shut on her. Snortin' and shovin' all the way.  When we finally did get her in the headgate, she threw a fit a two year old kid would even be ashamed of.  As the vet poured her with a delicing solution, I got up just close enough to see what I thought were notches on the straight horn and some cowboy's names that had tried to wrangle her in the past.  I'm thinking she's got quite the ability to hook you or stab you.  All I know is I don't want to be on the sharp point of either one of them!  One more thing, you'll notice what's on her left, it appears she hangs out with  her own kind.  Apparently in the world of cows even the other females think she's a rear end. 
Happy Trails!
Suzanne