Mr. Boo mumbles
During the year when the Daunt to Dillonwood column was not appearing in The Recorder, many of you asked me about Mr. Boo. He is my 5-year-old angus hereford herd sire.
We bought him in Northern California near the little town of Flournoy, west of Corning. His father was a very large, very strong angus bull. We originally thought about buying the older bull. When they told us we needed 6-foot fences to contain him, we passed.
As an excellent alternative, we brought home his son. At first, the wife wasn’t going to sell the youngster. This bull was raised a bottle baby, for his mother did not survive his birth. A big cardboard box in front of a wood stove in the kitchen kept him snug, and handy for the warm bottles of milk. He became a family pet. He grew and flourished, developing a great love of being near humans.
However, Mr. Boo as we call him, sometimes gets in the way, especially when I’m down in the pasture irrigating. If he wants attention, he simply stands in my way, forcing me to pet and scratch him to proceed.
His most interesting tricks is his desire to give me kisses. He seems to know the back part of his tongue is very raspy, so is careful to just lick me with the very tip, where it is soft and smooth. Of course, this results in making my jaw and cheek slobbery and wet.
One of his additional characteristics is his habit of mumbling when he walks. On one occasion I was watching him stroll toward the back field. I was a bit startled to hear him emitting a low mumbling sound every couple of steps. It lasted about two steps, beginning again on the following second step. This created a rhythmic intermittent mumble as he walked.
I was concerned, for if there is another bull in the vicinity, it’s common to hear both bulls emit this low sound. This is apparently a continuing statement, aimed at the nearby bull, “I’m just as big and bad as you are. And I think I’m bigger and badder.”
If the two bulls get near each other, the sound becomes more aggressive. If the bulls are in the same field, there will usually be a brief shoving and pushing match. One bull eventually proves he’s the strongest, and sends the other bull packing. However, if the bulls are on different sides of a fence, the sound of the bulls mumbling at each other is usually the predecessor to repairing fence.
When I first heard Mr. Boo mumbling as he walked, I looked and listened for the neighbor’s bull to answer. But after several minutes, the only sound heard was from Mr. Boo. He disappeared into the backfield, still mumbling.
Apparently, since he cannot explain it to me, he is simply letting the rest of the world know, “Mr. Boo is moving.”
One recent morning, I was preparing to feed Old Momma at the back patio gate. Mr. Boo has discovered she gets treats. He won’t only push his way in, but will actually push the cow away. After all, he is the herd sire.
But, a measure of grain for Mr. Boo, and another for Old Momma solves the problem. They eat side by side, each out of their own rubber feed pan.
But it’s not a good idea to feed her before Mr. Boo is at the gate, and in position to eat his treat at the same time. I made the mistake of feeding her, for she was begging. I dumped hers in the pan she uses.
Mr. Boo came up, mumbling of course, and immediately pushed her out of the way, then unceremoniously finished hers. I mistakenly thought I’d feed him quickly in his pan, and that would allow her to finish in peace. It didn’t work that way. He kept eating on hers until the pan was clean, then switched to his. When she reached over to share his, he promptly butted her out of the way, then finished his by himself. After that, I learned not to feed either of them unless they are both in position, or if Mr. Boo is too far away.
This morning, I found Old Momma at the patio gate, waiting expectantly. Knowing I shouldn’t feed her unless the bull was nowhere near, I yelled loudly.
“Hey Mr. Boo. You anywhere nearby? Where are you?” I repeated this a couple of times.
After a moment, I chuckled as I headed for the grain barrel to get two scoopers to feed them. Far down in the pasture, below the ditch and probably 250 yards away, I heard a soft low mumbling sound. Mr. Boo was walking my way and telling the world the herd sire was on the move.