Steering Steers

We have inaugurated a new steer system. Since it is early Spring and there is very little new grass as yet, Dan has decided to feed the steers on the verge.

As you know, our farm stretches finger-like from the house at the top of the mountain down to the main road. I say it is a mile in length, Dan claims it is much less. When I am hiking it back up as I do twice a day, I’d swear it’s 5 miles. Whatever, it’s a hike.  But on either side of the one-lane road that services the 4 farms, is a verge. Since the road was cut through our property, the verge belongs to us. And there is grass on it.

So Dan decided to fence off a part of the verge with the portable electrified fencing and let the steers munch away. This was fine with me since they had been in the quarantine paddock all the way at the base of our finger and I was getting tired of the hike.

The first time Dan moved them by himself since all the steers had to do was amble through the gate and presto! they were in the verge. They stayed placidly there all day. Dan hauled water to them; all our neighbors drove by to congratulate us on finally ‘mowing’ the verge down; and each of us wandered down to admire the grazing.

Then Dan chatted with our resident expert on all farming matters and learned that it was perfectly safe to leave the steers out overnight. I wasn’t so sure. “At least, shut the gate to the main road”, I begged. New Zealand has this imminently sane law that any damage done by your stock is your responsibility. So I envisioned car hitting steer; big bucks going to repair car.

The gate remained open. All of us were very hesitant about not having the steers safely behind our stout wooden fences. And have I mentioned that we have had a crime wave of rustling out here in our wild, wild North? Yep, folks – rustlers! I left Arizona to come to Warkworth, New Zealand and battle rustlers. Go figure!

So I went to bed. I was reading this great mystery set in Greece and didn’t reach over to turn out the light until almost 11. Just as my fingers touched the switch, I heard the baritone tones of my only child waft up the staircase. “Mom, can you come help me move the steers?”

Well, I could of course. Turns out he and Yael had fretted away the evening and Dan finally decided discretion was the better part of valor. Naturally Dan had the quad bike loaded with equipment so I was elected to walk down to the verge to help. Try it some time at 11 at night, no street lights, and cataracts clouding your vision. All I can say is that a benevolent God gave me a full moon or I’d still be out there stumbling away.

The steers were somewhat puzzled to be awakened in the middle of the night. They are early risers and need their beauty sleep. But they eventually got the idea. As usual Sir Single Digit (as in IQ) refused to move. He may be stupid but he wasn’t stupid enough to go anywhere until the path was forged by someone else. Preferably everyone else. I shouted, I urged, I threatened. Finally I took my cow wand and very gently prodded his backside. I don’t think he even felt it. I admit it, he is a very big cow and I am a tad intimidated by him.

So Dan stomped back through the mud and the steer decided he’d rather move than tangle with a wet, irritated Dan in the middle of the night. Also, the moon was covered with clouds and even a dumb animal can’t see in the dark. The moment was now.

Finally they were bedded down and so were we. And the dawn came. And the rains came. And Dan came to tell me we needed to shift the steers onto another tasty bit of verge.

So once again I hiked down while he rode the quad. My task was to go up paddock #1 (see picture of view from halfway up paddock  #1 to get an idea of the heighth). Then I was to steer the steers down the paddock, through the first 2 gates, through the orchard without allowing them to stop and nibble a few fruit trees, through the final gate and onto a pristine verge.

This worked well for the first 4 steers who pretty much knew the drill by now. Not so well for #104 aka Sir Single Digit. So I’m stuck on the top of paddock #1 with dumbo who refuses to move a step. I repeat my antics of the night before. Nothing. Finally I give up and start down to swap places with Dan. Guess who decides to follow? So I have learned another farm fact: the best way to steer steers is from the front.