The tagging crew

[grassfarmer]

Guys want to know birth weights whether they mean much or not. I bought a bull a couple years ago, seller had him at 72lbs birth weight and used a star rating for calving ease in the sale catalogue. This bull was a "3 star heifer bull", I checked the dam to make sure it wasn't a heifer so thought all was good. When I got the papers turned out he was a 72lbs twin but that little detail wasn't in the catalogue. Needless to say he hasn't been used on heifers again. Moral of the story, more info the better.

I think you are drawing the wrong conclusion from the experience - you need to deal with someone you can trust to have your best interests at heart, not more un-verified information from someone you can't necessarily trust.

[smcgrath76]

A lot of folks tape or estimate calf weights, both corral and grass calvers. I am not that smart. We weigh, but we also 50K DNA all the purebred calves. By the time they are for sale they have a set of EPD with the same accuracy as if they had sired 15-20 calves, and have both sire and dam confirmed, so I actually trust that value quite a bit. I agree about the trust thing.

[AlbertaFarmer5]

I missed this thread till now.

I start out with the best of intentions, and I go out every few days and catch and tag 20 or 30 calves ring, dehorn as required, check for navels etc. Then seeding starts, and tagging loses priority until about now, they are much more fun to catch at a month old, night works best.

I've been mauled a few times, usually by the friendly cow who I least expected, and wasn't prepared for, so let my guard down. A couple of times by really nasty cows. Once by two cows at once, knocked the wind out of me after they got me down. One particularly mean cow pushed me right through a tight 5 wire fence, I was much braver once I was on the other side.

I have full respect for how fast they can move, and how hard they can hit. Just watch a really mad cow who is afraid of me, as she takes out her wrath on the cow beside her, wow I am glad that wasn't me. If I can bluff them, then they get to stay for another year. You learn fast not to show fear, and to sound as mean as possible, if that doesn't work, it is likely too late for the stick. I always drag the calf to a fence or feeder etc. so I can sit with my back to a wall so the cow can't get behind me and out of sight, never a corner though. I don't sit down on the calf until I am certain me and the mother have come to an amicable agreement.

I used to think being on the quad made me invincible, until 2 years ago, a new cow to the herd T-boned the trike (Quad was broke down) flipped it over, sent me flying, and fortunately got her foot caught in the racks slowing her down enough for me to get up and away.

Most of our herd are absolute pets and have no issues at all, many will come and lick me while tagging, but it only takes one to keep from trusting any of them.

[burnt]

I'd never make a cowboy. I wrote this piece a few years ago after a near wreck while trying to rope calves after I'd gone down on the job for a month or more.

Wishin'

I'm an eastern boy with western dreams
but somehow in spite of all my schemes
I flog this Ontario farm.

I stumbled on this ranching site
and read the threads with great delight
and learned of tie or dally.

My little herd would soon get lost
if on those western plains were tossed
and scattered o’er those hills.

But they don't go far for feed and forage
one half mile at most from storage
and seldom out of sight.

A "roundup” is just a few minutes work
the quad starts up and their ears all perk
for they know that means fresh grass.

The art of roping to me is Greek
mostly unneeded so to speak;
you don't need to rope baby bovines

unless you're slack and miss a few
tags and bags right when they're new.
And slack is what I was.

So what to do with month old calves
with no corral and not by halves
do the little doggies run.

They sleep too light and I'm too slow
to grab them when their eyelids show
and ropin's not my trade.

But I drove to town to peruse a rope
a thirty? a fifty foot? I grab and grope
and settle on the shorter one.

But then there's nylon or leather -
they're awful thin and light as a feather
one slide and it'll burn my hands.

These ropin' gloves should do the trick
but man they don't seem very thick
so I leave them there.
This rope seems stiff, don't have much flex
and how do I get it over their necks
when I can't even hold it open in a loop.

I'm an eastern boy with western dreams
but somehow in spite of all my schemes
I can't rope on this Ontario farm.

But I head on back to catch a calf
my family tries hard not to laugh
as I coil my nylon line.

Some ride a bay and others a dun
but my ride ain't near as much fun
it's called a Honda.

It has no horn, electric or saddle
the muffler's shot, it makes a rattle
there's no sneakin' up on 'em.

So I park my ride and by the water trough
stands a momma cow and sure enough
her untagged baby boy beside her.

He's a strappin' chunk as hard as nails
the kind of calf where nothin' ails
and I really have to wonder

if a man my age should even try
to rope this muscular month old guy
and would a catch be "lucky?

But the momma moves and he's in the clear
so I shoot the rope out over his ear
and the battle's on.

My "lucky" shot has nailed him fair
he don't just run, he takes to air
I believe I've caught a demon!

The BELLAR! The BAWL! The TWIST! The BUCK!
Surviving this will be pure luck
as I work him toward my ride.

His wind cuts off and he drops like a rock
I'm scared and almost froze by shock -
what if I kill the beggar?

Nowhere to dally so I have to tie
grab a piggin' string and before he die
he's hobbled and slacken the rope.

He catches wind and works them hobbles
the four-wheeler holds but surely bobbles
and he never stops that bawl.

Well the mommas know that bawl means trouble
they all come chargin' in on the double
and add their moos to chorus.

But the ears get pierced and the ring fits tight
and the angry calf with a bit less fight
leaves shackles and rope behind.

One down and, oh, ‘bout a dozen to go
should I dive right in or take it slow
well I'm lucky so why wait.

I'm an eastern boy with western dreams
but somehow in spite of all my schemes
I ride a Honda not a horse.

So I coil my rope and set up to throw left,
right hand on throttle I'm not too deft
if a calf comes in my range.

Natcherly the first one comes up on the right
I toss with my left and what a stupid plight
as I rope my right front tire.

Cuz my coils are pinned tween knee and tank
I never thought to leave some lank
how do I hold the extra?

Cowboys are gennelmen but I think they'd smile
In fact, they'd maybe laugh a while
at the spectacle I made…

Well a lot of tries and I rope another
two down then three, can I catch his brother
I'd never make a cowboy.

Because the calf I'd picked was behind a thistle
and when I rolled the loop and let it whistle
I roped the spiny prickle.

So I yanked that cactus back.

Then I pick one more and make my try
set a wide loop and let'er fly
toward the calf and momma.

Mighta bin the hand of God or beginners luck
that the loop stayed empty and never struck
cuz I almost roped the momma.

I coiled it back and wiped my brow
If I'da caught her I be learnin' now
Why you don't tie off, just dally.

That's enough for today.

I'm an eastern boy with western dreams
but somehow in spite of all my schemes
I flog this Ontario farm