In case you have ever wondered how we can manage to buy cute, little baby spotted calves in the spring, tenderly bottle feed them for several weeks, continue caring for them every day for 18 months, and then ship them off to the locker plant for processing, to finally serve them up on a plate done to medium-well-juicy perfection . . . this is how.
Almost without fail, every single year that we have raised steers (which is a lot of years), they decide that the grass is greener on the other side of the fence about three weeks before the big truck is scheduled to make an appearance at our loading chute, and decide it would be really fun to become Houdini's with the fence and sneak out to play a game of catch . . . daily.
By the time that truck does pull into our driveway those steers can consider themselves lucky that this crazy farm wife hasn't found the keys for the gun cabinet and done the duty myself. A nice juicy T-bone sounds pretty good for supper right about now.