Everything I Do, I Do It For You

As Mr. Bull looked longingly over the fence at the "ladies," a sound track looped through my mind. With apologies to rock crooner Bryan Adams and his Everything I Do, I Do It For You, it became the Ballad of the Barnyard, at least in my mind.

Look into my eyes, you will see

What you mean to me

Search your heart, search your soul

And when you find me there

You'll search no more ...

And, as the bulls fought for supremacy while we sorted mamas and babies before their respective rides to pastures, the verses just kept coming ...

Don't tell me it's not worth fightin' for
I can't help it, there's nothin' I want more
You know it's true
Everything I do, I do it for you, oh yeah.

The bulls got their own private limousine (well, trailer) ride apart from the ladies and babies. Kinda of like rock star status. (Eat your heart out Bryan Adams!)

When we arrived at the pasture to the south of our house, Randy pointed the way to Mr. Bull's harem. (When I posted this photo to Facebook, a non-agriculture-based friend asked if pointing is how we get cattle to go the way we want. It's a very good question. I wish it were that easy. Nature does the pointing when you're talking bulls and cows. But this was just a case of Randy attempting a little humor after a morning of sorting cattle.)

 

Anyway, all imaginings of a sexy crooner immediately got left behind in the poopy trailer as the bull began his own song. With his high-pitched call, Our Romeo ended up sounding more like Peewee Herman instead of a seductive, smooth-as-silk bass like Barry White and his Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe. 

It was the same high-pitched call for the bull who arrived at the Ninnescah Pasture. I wanted to tell them both that I thought they'd have better luck attracting the ladies if they went for a more robust sound, perhaps emulating Luther Vandross and his Always and Forever.

It seems to work for them though. Or it better. We want lots of little baby calves running around next winter.

Sometimes, Barnyard Lotharios leave behind their calling cards. We don't have a Charolais bull. But a neighbor does. This little guy doesn't look much like his coal-black mother, does he? I suspect he's the spitting image of his Daddy, who is now long gone. However, we don't have a purebred cow-calf herd, so he's joined his contemporaries in the pasture.

In recent years, we've had one Hereford bull and four Angus bulls. Each year, the bulls go through a version of a "job interview" with a check-up from the veterinarian to make sure each is able to perform his appointed duties.

When Randy is looking for a new bull to add to our herd, it's not just a beauty contest, though looking for correct conformation for each breed is one factor in the decision-making process. Randy also looks for bulls that produce smaller birth weight calves, but whose progeny have higher 205-day weaning weights and yearling weights.

 

Yesterday, the little Charolais calf and its 2013 "classmates" returned to the scene of the "crime" at the Rattlesnake Pasture. Let's hope his Daddy doesn't exercise his visitation rights again this summer.