Coronation

There has been a power shift in the North Pasture: T-Bone is king. We're not really sure when it happened, but the signs are unmistakeable.

Case in point: yesterday he was drinking at one end of the water trough, and Bridgit wandered over to take a drink at the other end. However, one quick toss of T-Bone's head in her direction and she demurely backed away, deciding instead that a bite of haylage might be nice. In the past, she could make him move away in any direction with a flick of her horns, and if he didn't oblige, she'd head butt him to make her point. Now the tables are turned, and he's dishing out the orders.

When T-Bone was about seven months old he used to try sparring with Bridgit, but she was merciless, running him backwards right into the corner or otherwise chasing him off. Now, though not only does he start it, but it's not over until he says so. Paul left the gate between our yard and their pasture unlatched the other day and Bridgit took advantage to zip into the yard, and once T-Bone figured it out and followed, a great sparring ensued. Paul got some great photos, too.

Now if we can just find him a new home so he can go practice his testosterone-driven behaviors with someone else's cows!


"Come on, lady. I can take ya."














"I like to call this move the freight train."














T-Bone proving he's still just a youngster at heart.