It’s that time again, when one of steers had come to the end of his stay on our farm and was sent to the butcher. It was Winston’s turn this time, and though it never gets any easier (and why should it?), we’re always grateful for their sacrifice.
Winston came to us as a knobby-kneed youngster that Jack bought from someone who had extra feeder calves, right after Woody made his exit. They made the transfer in a Walmart parking lot and unceremoniously, he came home to live with us on a dreary, rainy winter day.
We kept him separate from Dolly and Daisy in a period of quarantine to keep everyone safe since we minimally vaccinate our animals. Plus, the cows are so pushy and greedy, they would have stolen all of his food without a second thought and that boy needed all the calories he could get. It was extra work, but it also gave us the chance to get to know him one-on-one. Like a lot of cattle, he was skittish and nervous but had a curiosity that often overrode his hesitation.
Winston was with us for about two years, growing taller than he did fat thanks to his Guernsey heritage, and his insatiable appetite reminded me a lot of a teenager. Half the time, the rest of the herd would move back to their paddock when I’d go to get them in the morning out of routine and he’d still be chowing down. When I’d move them to a new pasture, he couldn’t walk through the alley without taste testing everything. Even though he’d eaten for fifteen hours before putting him in to let the pasture rest, it never failed that he’d be pacing the fenceline, trying to figure out where he could find a nibble of grass.
It was shortly after Adam was born that it was Winston’s turn to go. He got in the trailer without a fuss, drove there without complaint, and when it was his turn, he walked in without trouble. A few weeks later, we picked up our boxes of beef and sent half off with one of my sisters and the rest is in our freezer. We say there’s only one bad day on the farm for our beef cattle, but they’re serving their purpose to feed our family, and in exchange, I like to think they had a good life with a name, a purpose, and plenty of green grass.
