Last week, a 15-year-old steer with a six-foot horn span backed off a trailer into my
barnyard, and Curious Bleu — who has not hurried anywhere in three years — hurried.
Red is home.
The two of them go back further than most marriages. When they were young, Red and Bleu worked together in a yoke and became best friends. They’re both old now, very old for bovines, and every other animal they grew up with has died. When we first tried to retire, Red went on loan to Bela Brook Farm in Dunbarton. Then Bleu had an accident and lost a horn, and somewhere in his convalescence he started asking after his old buddy. So I made a phone call.
About that retirement. We tried it in 2024. We closed the farm store, put the farm on the market, kept the most personable cattle — I call them the ambassadors — and took a three- week vacation. A year and a half later, with exactly one offer on the house, we changed course and didn’t feel a bit guilty.
The new plan was the “Ultimate Cow Experience” for farm visitors. But first we needed cooperation from our employees, the four-legged ones. I gathered them together, and the conversation went like this:
“Bleu, would you like to entertain visitors?” I asked. “Would you let them feed you carrots,
brush your back and hug you?”
“Did you mention carrots?” Bleu said. “And back scratches? When do we start?”
Next was Finn.
“How about you, Finn?”
“Everything but the hugging,” Finn said. “I hate people hanging on to me and petting my face. Ugh.”
“Would you pull a cart?”
“I’m in,” Finn said, “as long as carrots are involved.”
I interviewed all 15 and learned what jobs suited them. The rest was easy. I invited families to the farm for hugs with Bleu, cart rides with Finn, riding with steers Bingo and Sam, and long walks with dairy calves Ben and Jerry.
Every bovine got a job they liked, and they tell me when they don’t. Once I tried to change Finn’s job description by enlisting him to give cow-back rides. No one got hurt, but Finn, with a swing of his horns and a swish of his tail, registered his annoyance.
Now, about the names. Bleu has a red coat. He’s called Bleu because he was born on a blue moon. Red wasn’t named for his coat either — his is silver, which old-timers call blue. So the team of Red (who is blue) and Bleu (who is red) is back together again. Bleu, minus a horn, has withdrawn from the heavy work, though he’ll still stand for a hug. Red hasn’t told me what job he wants. Until his job description is determined, he’ll work as a lawn ornament, where visitors can admire that horn span.
Visit and ask my critters how they like their jobs. They’ll all say the same thing: “Fine. More
carrots, please.”
Carole Soule is co-owner of Miles Smith Farm in Loudon, N.H., where you can have an Ultimate Cow Experience, hug Highland Steer, Curious Bleu, and admire Red’s majestic horns. Carole can be reached at carole@cow-coach.com.