Balls. Yes, he is still here and yes, he continues to try my patience. He is an interesting dude. Pathetic really. He is the epitome of young adult male……always thinking with a certain part of his anatomy, if you catch my drift. He spends 24/7 looking for love. If he can’t find it here, he stands near the edge of the fence and bays pathetically at John’s cattle farm next door. Balls wants it and he wants it bad.
Moving the cows to fresh pasture is a twice-weekly chore. The cows need to have access to both water and shade. We….meaning Steve, has gotten pretty good at figuring out the angles to ensure everyone’s needs are met. Honestly, we had them moved in about 10 minutes. Moving day got very complicated when we added Balls into the mix.
We have to keep Balls away from the too-young-to-breed heifers. They are old enough to go into heat, but it is best to wait a little longer before they get pregnant. So moving the herd has become a two-part process. Because this is a new system, it is more like semi-controlled chaos than anything else. Both Steve and I run around trying to keep everyone separate as we implement the plan. It can take 45 minutes to move them. We have to coax Ball’s “girlfriends” and him into the first pasture before guiding the second group into their separate run.
Balls senses opportunity in the mayhem of moving day, for he is a cleaver horny beast. Turn your back for a minute and he is bound to be humping someone he shouldn’t be. He eyes those young ladies with drool oozing out of his mouth. Pretty sure he nailed one of them while our backs were turned for 20 seconds. He looked totally guilty.
I’ve heard that, in the absence of a willing cow, a bull will hump whomever he can. Yesterday I was out emptying their water trough and I saw those Neanderthal testicles come swaying my way while Balls had a “come hither” look in his eye. My speed to the other side of the fence could have won me a gold medal.