So last night, we were walking around putting the farm to bed, just like we always do. T-bone was unusually agitated, but cattle have their moods, you know, and perhaps he was feeling extra lonely or extra hungry, but, on further consideration, he did seem to be agitated in a very definite direction. I glanced in that direction and noticed our two heifers in the side field, and just beyond them, across the drive, one of the neighbors’ animals. I went over for a closer look and noticed it was the neighbors’ bull animal. I watched for a few minutes to see if T-bone’s concern was legitimate and whether or not anything needed to be done about it. The bull mooed in not-even-one-year-old Molly’s direction, a funny, hoarse moo that actually sounded like “moo” and which caused me to giggle. (Our cows don’t actually say “moo”.) And I noticed our Molly, the only one of our females who is not currently expecting, making eyes at him. I couldn’t blame her; he really is a nice looking bull, even if he is black. And then the bull humped himself up and I wondered what on earth he was doing, for that was an unusual pose for urinating or defecating, and then… oh, no. You’d think I’d have known what was coming, all things considered, but I don’t keep a bull, so please excuse my surprise. It was an impressive sight, and the effect was not lost on my innocent little cow girl. Yes. Action was definitely needed, because I’m pretty sure our neighbors’ fences aren’t any stronger than ours, and ours aren’t particularly strong.
I hurried out into the field. “Alright, girls,” I said. “Break it up. Time to go to bed. And you,” I said to the bull, “should be ashamed of yourself, behaving like this with such a young thing.” The cows followed me back to the barn, because they are good cows, and the bull mooed one last time, then wandered off down the field in search of his own harem.
Still, I double-gated the cows in the barn, just in case. Molly did not appreciate my interference in her romantic endeavors and she let me know it. I let her know that I’m still the boss, which took quite a bit longer than usual. And then we agreed to disagree on what sort of behavior is appropriate for almost-one-year-old cows.
Four more months of this. Whew. (Hope that bull moves out soon!)
(She’ll be ready to be bred at 15 months. In case you didn’t know. Most normal people don’t. 
And we just have the vet inseminate for us. Its easier and cheaper than keeping a bull.)
I mention this only because this week’s prompt is a little… well, strange. But it popped into my head on Thursday night just before I fell asleep and I can’t think of another one until this one is gone. So, this week, I’d like you to write: