We drive all the bulls into our corrals and start sorting them by either age or disposition. The youngbloods hang together, the weathered and worn old fellas get penned up together, and the rest we sort into groups of 4-6. There's always a jerk. Or, this year, we had several jerks that needed to be put in timeout. Before we could sort them out, they turned our corrals into Cornville, Kansas, during tornado season. They fought through fences, exploding boards and posts, while my brothers and I just stood back and watched.
BTD is the (sort-of) perfect opportunity for discussing the birds and the bees with the kids. Did I use the day to awkwardly stumble through the finer points of the miracle of life? No. We talked about Jumanji. The other day Regina mentioned getting a book for them as a modern way of having "the talk." I scoffed. I never had "the talk." I had a stollen stash of my brothers' Playboy magazines and got to tag along on Bull Turnout Day. Which, in hindsight, didn't answer any questions that I probably had. Yeah, maybe she ought to get that book, now that I think of it.
|I have no idea what I'm looking for. |
I just hope I don't get poop on my mustache.
Dylan already has a head start though. She's had Artificial Insemination lessons, been in the corrals while we've pulled calves, witnessed several live births, and has helped us during both preg-checking and bull semen-testing days. She's in a 4-H Vet Science class where she'll dissect the reproductive tract of a heifer. I know, it's not the same, but she's been around a lot of bovine baby-making. The seeds of information for mammal existence have been planted, and I just hope they'll sprout before she needs "the talk," or, worse yet, I have to read her "the book."