Benny Butts In

Our property runs from the main road one mile uphill to the farm. We have paddocks on both sides of the private (4 farms use this road) road for half a mile and only one side for the other half. The 2 sided paddocks are on the upper half. Clear so far? Good. It took me several weeks to figure it out.

Right now Benny the Dexter purebred bull is 'visiting' the cows on our neighboring farm down by the main road. We passed him as we drove up on Thursday afternoon. Well, 4 of us drove up, Dan was working in Auckland. We even waved to Benny as we shut the gates to all the other farms, and the main road, on our way up the hill. We Lord ladies had accepted the mission to move our 7 steers from the front paddock down to the dreaded paddock #1. This means shifting them almost a full mile - but hey, it's downhill so how hard can it be?

Well, let me tell you. The steers were in our front paddock which is the one Dan stood in to take the picture of the farm house at the top of your screen. It's a lovely paddock; green, fairly flat, woods on one side. What's not to like? How do I count the ways? The barrier to the house is low and we have had to chase stock off our patio several times - even with the electrified fence. Stock love to rub against the trees and the trees are suffering. The paddock is flat, true, but it holds water as if it were a swimming pool. All in all, not the ideal paddock for 7 strong, young, curious steers.

We arrived at the farm around 4:30 which doesn't mean much to you in the Northern hemisphere but down here it's getting on to winter and sundown hits soon after 5. Not much time to get the steers relocated. So we whirl up to the barn, grab our wellies and hike out to de-electrify the fence. Then we take down the fence slats and Yael strolls confidently into the paddock to shift the steers. I stay by the car. The girls are inside in their carseats - fractious and not at all inclined to wait around while spooked steers regain their equilibrium.

And spooked they are! For some reason, our normally placid steers refuse to have anything to do with the arranged relocation. Perhaps they don't like walking in the rain. Did I mention it was raining? Do I have to? It is always raining! So I'm standing by the car to make sure no errant bovine makes a break for it into our driveway and front garden. The kids are racheting up their vocal displeasure (translation: yelling) and Yael is trotting around the paddock trying to get the steers to gather. One thing we have learned is that you must keep the stock together. If they break into groups, you're done for. Give up and go home.

That is exactly what I want to do. After about half an hour, with darkness beginning to envelop us, the kids screaming, and the rain pelting down, I have had enough. I broach throwing in the (wet) towel but Yael is made of sterner stuff. "We came up here to move the steers and that's what we're going to do." I reply with a surly "all right" and stomp off to grab an armful of hay. I return and scatter the hay out the paddock and to the road. I then join Yael and we gently urge the cattle toward the hay. They figure it out, and bolt past the hay and to the road.

Did I mention it was all downhill? Well, angry, confused cows faced with a sharply downhill path do only one thing. They run! And how. Yael gets in the car, soothes the girls and drives down the hill, past the careening cows and parks on the far side of the gate to paddock #1. I follow the steers, tripping in my wellies, rain soaked and in a foul humor. I zigzag across the road rousting cattle from gullies on either side. One steer refuses to quit eating this nice, fresh grass and I have to get stern with him. I remind him that the home kill guy is coming in two weeks and will take my recommendation as to which 2 steers will contribute their all to our freezer.

Perhaps it's my tone, but he perks up and trots down to the rest of the herd. And we are approaching the car and they need to make a right turn through the first gate, through the second and third gates and into paddock #1. And I think they're going to do it. After all, this is a regular run for them. And they like the paddock. It has lots of trees, a massive hill, and I rarely enter it to chat. Pretty much nirvana.

But Benny butts in. He has been bored. The cows he was there to 'service' have been moved to another paddock and he is all alone. Our rampaging steers is the first excitement Benny has had all day. So he joins in. He begins bellowing at the top of his lungs. Very large, very loud lungs. Our steers stop dead as if hit by a brick. Then they wheel around and bolt off past the car, past the screaming girls, past Yael and down to the main road. There they are stopped by the gate. Thank God we remembered to shut that one even though we didn't figure we'd need it.

Then the farming fairy figured it had had enough of a laugh at our expense for one day. (I am sure there will be others.) A huge semi roars past on the main road, just a few feet from the steers. If they were scared before, they are terrified now. Back up the road. They would have run all the way back to the farmhouse if we'd let them. But we had had enough. We got firm. Very firm. Stood right in their faces and dared them to run past. They meekly turned and went through all 3 gates and into paddock #1. Yael shut all the gates behind them. I climbed in the car and tried to calm the girls but they only wanted Mommy. So she came and all was right with the world. For them and for us. But especially for Benny who settled in for a nice evening of laughing at the Lords.