[Downthestretch55]

The Bull

This is not a little story about a "bull in a china shop" or pottery barn where the sign says, "You broke it, you own it."
This is a true story that includes my brother, Gary, two mountain farmers, and the hope of a veal calf.
The farmers, Calvin and Edsel called one day and said that one of their heifers had given birth to a calf in a high meadow, and if Gary and I could get there to catch it, we could have it.
Calvin and Edsel didn't mention how their father had been killed, trampled by a Jersey bull (we didn't find out until much later), sadly, they cried when they shared how he'd been stomped beyond recognition. RIP their dad.
Nor did Calvin nor Edsel mention that they had turned the heifer out in the high meadow with a Jersey bull to sevice any cows that hadn't been caught via AI. Nor did they mention that the calf was four days old.
Did you ever try to run down a deer?
For sure they got a good laugh at Gary's and my efforts. They were rolling on the floor when I told them that when I heard the bull bellow, instead of trying to become an olympic track star running down a very scared vealer, I headed for the six strands of barbed wire as fast as my worn out legs could get me there. To this day, I don't know how I made it over the barbed wire.
I didn't have a scratch. Could it have been a new high jump record?
I'll never know.
The Jersey bull almost came through it right after me, but by then, I was way high up in a tree.
Calvin and Edsel..."HA, HA, HA!!"
Afterwards, I met up with Gary. The bull had gone back to his "girlfriends" and I finally caught my breath.
Luckily, I didn't even have anything clinging to the bottom of my sneakers.
Plenty of that was to be found in that meadow. Luck is luck.
Well, Gary still wanted a calf. On the way back home we stopped at another farm. Sure enough, one of the old farmer's cows had "freshened" that day,
and since that's what cows have to do so the baby can be taken from the mommy for her to continue her lactation (that's how milk is gotten), and her milk would be given to the milking machine and the bulk truck hauler, the calf was something that wasn't needed anymore.
So, the old farmer said we could have it...free!
We thanked him very much and brought the little guy home. Being as it was July 4th, we named the bull calf "Independence".
We both took turns feeding him milk replacer, mucking his little pen, and making sure he had the finest life we could give him.
Well, about ten weeks later, he was made to be what he was meant to be.
As we sat at the dining room table when he was served up, Dad asked, "What do you think of Independence?"
No kidding...at the same time, Gary and I said with food still in our mouths,
"He's delicious!"
Anyway, be careful of the bulls. Watch where you step. And always remember, eat them before they trample you. Bulls want you to die.
Get them first!

The veal recipe is in the DT Cookbook. Enjoy!