Calving season is upon us.
May is the month our calves are scheduled to be born, if the bull did his job right, that is. And how hard is it? All he’s gotta do is be a typical bull and work the crowd, so to speak. He doesn’t even have to compete for the ladies. He is their only option.
I do believe he did a regular fine job, though, because I saw him all frisky and sly, all coy and cudly; I saw him whispering sweet nothings in the cows’ ears and…….umm……maybe I’ll just leave it at that. A bull deserves some privacy, doesn’t he?
In defense of my creepiness, when the future of your farm depends upon one bull doing his thing correctly….well, I’m trying to say that my spying from the edge of the field had nothing to do with any socio-psychological problems of my own. Really.
Lord help me. This farm stuff can be embarrassing.
I love how they play follow the leader like that.
Oh, dear. Maybe a call to my therapist isn’t such a bad idea.