Cattle Procurement Get-together

AKA: Another Day At An Auction

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Wow! I don't know what is going on in the grand scheme of my timeline, but Monday I found myself at another cattle auction. As I was still plagued with what I like to call the "viral video cold" (It just won't go away), my day had a nice filter of congestion coloring my awareness and a soundtrack of random chest, rattling hacking as the soundtrack. There were so many moos echoing throughout the auction house that my coughing was a nice bit of accompanying percussion.

Enough of sordid setting the scene! It is time to paint the narrative, for it is of vital comprehension importance that you all understand my observances from the day trip at a local cattle auction, this information could be incredibly relevant in some way! I just don't know in what way that would be!

So, I have this friend. She is an amazing woman, a person that has been through more tragedy than most people, yet still keeps on keeping on. Even though she is disabled with a heart that is genetically flawed, she still does crazy things like drive to a cattle auction to pick up steers. A couple of months ago she asked me if I would like to accompany her to the auction. As a strong electrical charge or faulting of a battery could end my pal, I of course acquiesced to her request, and that is how I found my congested form smashed into the back seat of a one ton Dodge dually pick up that was pulling a stock trailer.

With a cup of hot earl grey tea in my paws I listened to my dear friend and her gangly ogre of a husband, whom I affectionately refer to as Mad Martagan, banter back and forth in a most amiable way. By amiable, I of course mean that there were threats of spousal abuse and the ever present,"You're walking home" verbal meme. Good times. An hour and a half later we pulled into the tiny little town of Davenport, Washington where the Stockland Livestock Auction is located.

Upon placing the pickup and trailer next to a long line of pickups and trailers, we wandered into the old auction house building. Each of my steps clunked on the old linoleum floor and even my congested nasal tract could appreciate the aroma of bovine fecal matter, grilling hamburgers, and no small amount of good old-fashioned, scorched coffee.

My friend went to the office window and got her buyer number as I peered around like an over stimulated puppy. Most of the people in attendance were over fifty, so I obviously stuck out like a sore thumb, and Mad Martagan proceeded to mock me as her usually does, with no small amount of short and little kid jokes. It didn't help matters any when we strolled into the sitting area that surrounds the auction floor and upon sitting my feet couldn't reach the floor. As I let my boots dangle over the remnants of my pride, I thought about dangling Mad Martagan over a pit full of rabid hyenas and my overall demeanor improved.

We were on a mission to procure two steers under five hundred pounds. These two fellows would be returning to Idaho with us for a fun filled year of all the hay they could eat, a daily grain treatment, and a ten acre pasture for their leg stretching enjoyment. Oh yes, and a death sentence of sometime next fall.

I get it, all animals must eat, even humans. My own personal philosophy is that if I am going to eat an animal, then it gets the happiest, most comfortable, least stressful life that is within my power to give, so obviously watching stressed bovine after bovine be shooed through gates and auctioned off like they were auto parts bothered me on the feelers level. While I sat there appreciating the moo-beauty, I spent some time internally considering how irritated it makes me that we use up something like a cow, feeding it and taking from it, only to cast it off like a holey sock once its usefulness has peaked or ceased. Life has some ugly sides to it.

Ethical moo-ruminations aside, I did appreciate getting to observe the intricate dance that is a cattle auction. One of the reasons is that I kind of think auctioneers are a special form of mutated humans, I mean listen to this guy:

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I don't even know what he is saying, but I found that I smiled a lot when I listened to him. I'd like to hear him do his lip flapping olympics when he has cold like I do, that would be something to behold.

Each time they ran a bovine into the ring a digital board would show the weight of the animal, and within a minute or so when the animal sold you could see what it sold for both as a total and by hundredweight (price per hundred pounds). Being the sorta immature infant that I am, I cared more about the next bovine's appearance than I did the economic aspect of the auction, probably because I wasn't purchasing any cattle. A couple of cows stood out during the day:

Ginormicow

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This lovely lady weighed in at 2250lbs!! Now there were a few old herd bulls that topped the two thousand pound mark on the scale, but to see a cow of that size made my day. She strolled in like she owned the place, and the two guys with over-sized fly swatters that are in the ring to move the livestock along hid behind their plywood partitions as they gazed upon her massive might. She was a beautiful behemoth to behold, he black hide shined with the gleam of an animal that had been cared for well, and was of such massive dimensions that stretched out it could probably cover an Olympic swimming pool. I hope Ginormicow went to a situation where she will be appreciated!

Angry Beefher

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Charolais cattle are a gorgeous breed with a cream colored hide, and I always enjoy gazing upon them. However, when the ring attendants let in this particular cow, it quickly became apparent that she was not happy to be at the auction house. Angry Beefher proceeded to try to kill everything, the attendants, the pen, the auctioneer; I'm pretty sure she flipped off the entire crowd as she violently slashed her tail at the crowd. She pawed the ground and rammed the partitions repeatedly, and I am also pretty sure that she tried to eat one of ring guys as she went ten kinds of mad cow by sticking her head on top of the partition and blowing snot all over the most probably wetting himself auction employee. So awesome.

After watching a plethora of young and old bulls, cows, and steers come through, my friend bought a young steer that fit her needs. It was then that the auctioneer announced a break for lunch, and a diabolical woman came into the ring. Following her were two, day old Holstein bottle calves.

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We came home with the bottle calves.

Not that I minded, I love baby calves. Of course, later when I was covered in calf poo I was trying to remember the deep seated source of my affection. It was probably covered in mucus, kinda like my hands and arms, for bottle baby calves, while cute, express all sorts of biological goo. That little fact didn't stop us from cooing at those little cuties like a bunch of pediatric nurses.

The most impressive animal that we came home with was the young steer that my friends purchased. Most auction cattle are a tad on the rambunctious side when you try to trailer them. Dozer, as Mad Martagan had christened him, calmly stepped onto the trailer and let us scratch him. We went into over the top awe mode when he backed himself out of the trailer and calmly wandered into his new home like a well trained performance animal. How could this be? Was he drugged or ill? I personally think he was somebody's pet, and just got too big or their situation changed, because his eyes were clear and his overall condition and demeanor were sound.

All in all it was quite a trip.

Look at that face!!

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And as always, all of the images in this post were taken on the author's non mooing and slightly moo-mucus covered iPhone.

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