Chapter 40
Logan
“I swear, I don’t know how Jon keeps talkin’ me into these things,” my father mutters as we watch the trailer back up slowly toward the loading alley.
“As if spring isn’t busy enough with calving and vet checks and soil testing and early seeding, now we’ve gotta manage a new bull and all that comes with that.
Quarantine and introductions, dividing them all up and then keepin’ five bulls apart so they don’t kill each other when they’re rutting.
” He shakes his head as he runs through the long and tedious process.
“Hauling an animal two thousand kilometers ’cause he’s got good genes is batshit crazy, and I don’t care what all its pedigree papers say.
And this one’s only three! You don’t pay this kind of money for a bull younger than four!
” He tugs on the wide brim of his hat as he complains.
“I guess you should have gone with him, huh?” Jon came back from a trip to a well-reputed ranch in South Dakota with a bill of sale and a wide grin. Apparently, his brother Jacob went with him and showed up at home with one too.
My father sighs heavily. “This one’s gonna be a big boy. Fourteen hundred pounds already. At least he’s not aggressive, from what Jon said.”
“I checked and reinforced all the quarantine pen fences anyway, just in case,” I say.
Dad nods, surveying the expanse of brown land around us. An early spring thaw two weeks ago helped melt the snow in the open, but wooded areas and north-facing slopes are still covered. It’ll be May before the last of it is gone, and late May before the threat of frost is over.
The long-haul driver is out of the truck now and around back, assessing the setup as Jon adjusts the angle of the camera he mounted to record the entire event for North Country’s social media.
The bull kicks at the walls of the trailer, testing it.
“Can’t decide who’s more stressed right now, him or me.” But despite my father’s bitching, anticipation radiates from him as we watch the driver and Jon carefully navigate the system of doors and gates required to release an animal that size while minimizing its stress.
Jon looks at us, tugging on his hat’s brim like some sort of salute.
“That thing’s not gonna save him if this animal decides it doesn’t like it here. You sure we shouldn’t be in there, helping?”
Dad shakes his head. “Only one in the alley.”
“Ready,” I hear Jon say.
The next few minutes are tense as they manage to coax the bull out, his split hooves thundering down the ramp.
The driver closes the trailer’s gate while Jon gently guides the bison forward with a wooden paddle toward the squeeze chute, keeping to its side and ready to clamber over the wall or dart out the panic gate as needed.
My dad breathes a sigh of relief as soon as it’s secure. “At least he didn’t video himself getting gored today.”
“I’ll bet that’d get views, though.”
My father guffaws. “Right? The idiot would probably post it just for that reason.”
“What’s this one’s name?” I ask, as the animal’s wise eyes assess the new environment.
“As of now?” Dad’s flat look prepares me. “Snorty, because they let their grandchildren name them.”
I laugh and after fighting it for a few moments, my father can’t help himself anymore, chuckling alongside me.
Mak trots up on Flapjack then. “We’ve got two new red dogs!” he announces. “They’re up and moving around good. Start the count.”
“Well, now, here we go.” Dad’s eyes light up with excitement as he thumps my back. “It’s a brand-new year.”