It's fall on the cow outfit.
Time
to get out the WD 40 and grease up the handles on the squeeze chute.
Maybe find the three or four syringes that work, buy some new gaskets
and barrels along with a box of needles. Time to look for the ear
tagger, nose tongs and dehorning saw. You could stock up on hot shot
batteries and plastic whips and shovel out the chute floor before it
freezes.
That'll be the easy part of
workin' your cows this fall, the mechanical tasks associated with good
management. Yet, laying in wait like the hangover after the night
before, is that ominous responsibility that all good cowmen dread…
that's right, boys… the open cow.
You
know they are in the bunch. And you can bet your hired help, your
neighbors and your family will all be lookin' over your shoulder anxious
to see your decision. They will be full of advice. But, in the end,
whether you keep that open cow or not, will be strictly between you and
her.
Say
she bangs into the chute. Her teeth are good, she's fat, five years old
and just weaned a 550 lb calf. The vet shouts "Open!" The vaccinators
are poised waiting for your decision. You rapidly calculate that open
cow will bring $$880 at the sale Wednesday.
You
dither, remembering her first calf. You had to pull it. It was a cold
night in February. The two of you spent four hours in the shed getting'
that calf to suck. Once he was goin', she took'im and never looked back!
Dang, you hate to see her go. You bite the bullet… "Cull her!" you say,
but you can't look her in the eye.
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