I once whacked a Limosine Bull square on the point on top of his skull with a 9 iron as hard as I could swing it because he kept scattering the round bales I was trying to put out before I could cut the twines. The head fell off the club, and he just cut his eyes up at me like "whut you tawkin about Willis?". Then he proceeded to scatter the bale I had just set down. Said fugg it. I'll just clean up after him. Him and the Hereford mixes we had made good calves.
Ever had to pick up a calf you just pulled by the back legs and shake it to get the fuid out of its lungs so it can breath? Thats a unique sensation when you grab the back legs and that "slime" squishes out and runs down to your elbows.
