There’s a man I periodically meet out walking whose way of looking at the world always entertains me. Last winter, as I customarily bemoaned the wet, he was pondering how best to embrace it. He’d got as far as a puncture repair business for wellies – if it ever takes off, I’ll be first in the queue. His instinct to adapt comes to mind as I await the arrival of Dewi, our farm vet, a selection of brown cows before me – and among them Wesley, a 16-month-old black Aberdeen Angus bull.
In the “old days” we would borrow a neighbour’s north Devon bull in return for a bottle of whisky, but the introduction of pre‑movement testing to combat TB raised complications, and we had to begin keeping our own. Being a small farm with no buildings, this presents a logistical challenge. It necessitates running the herd as two groups, to keep the bull separate from inappropriately young heifers. This is easier in the summer when we can lease additional grazing, but with our increasingly wet winters, we now risk disproportionately damaging two fields instead of one. Hence, in May, when I needed a new bull, I bought one I knew I would use but not keep. And I chose an Angus because they’re popular, so he should be easier to sell. First, though, I need to confirm he is “proven”.
