Mr. Beefy - part 4

Our plans to have a neighbor drive Beefy to the processors fell thru, which meant that we had to work something else out, and fast, because we'd had enough damage to our cars already. So. I made some phone calls and did some finagling, and ended up on an early friday morning with 2 friends, a rented trailer, a borrowed truck, and one very suspicious steer. I handed Terry a pitchfork, and Scott a stout stick (you know, to make them feel safer. Ha.) and climbed into the back of the trailer. Beefy really, and I mean REALLY, wanted the grain I was offering, but he just couldn't quite work up the nerve to go for it. He charged and snorted and shied away and came back again for about an hour, strrrrreeeeeeetching his neck into that trailer, until he finally stepped in halfway, and Scott pretty much shoved him the rest of the way in by closing the door on his butt. And then it got really fun. Beefy hadn't been on a trailer since he was a weanling, and he decided it wasn't for him. He bucked and kicked and reared and dang near threatened to overturn that thing. The next 10 miles took us roughly 30 minutes, because the trailer was fishtailing as he threw his weight around in it. Every time the truck came to a stop, he went nuts again, shaking the trailer and the truck. People in the cars next to us at stoplights looked nervous. I think I actually saw someone lock their doors. But, we managed to get him there and off the truck and into the holding pen at the slaughterhouse in one piece.

Now. Right about this time I'm sure that some of you are feeling very sorry for poor Mr. Beefy and all the trauma I just put him through and blah blah blah. So I'm just going to tell you right now: No. He was a jerk. And also to reassure you that he got the last laugh, because when we were done, I had to clean the trailer. 'Cause it was rented, and that's how it works. And oh, people. I wish I had taken photos. I really do. I'm pretty bad about not having my camera around to capture the really great stuff as it happens, or in being just too wrapped up in the moment to think to take a picture. So let me just try to 'splain. There was 2 inches of cow crap all over the inside of the trailer. Have you ever tried to remove a 2-inch thick layer of cow crap from the inside of a livestock trailer with a pressure sprayer? I got cow crap in my mouth! In my MOUTH, people. It was everywhere.  It was so bad that Scott was a perfect gentleman and stood way off to one side while I worked so I wouldn't get any of it on him. And I don't blame him for that for one second. It could have been an episode of that "Dirty Jobs" show. It should have been. In it's own really disgusting way, it was kinda glorious.