Shine Not Burn(52)

My heart leaped into my throat as I watched Mack move another lever and flip the entire calf over on its side in the contraption. The show of brute strength was unexpected and thrilling in a pure animal lust kind of way. “Oh my god,” I half-whispered, unable to tear my eyes away. “What is he doing?”

“He’s getting the bull calf into position so they can do the work on him. That metal box he’s in now is called a squeeze chute. Believe it or not, it calms most calves to be held in it like this.”

“What work are they going to do on him?”

“You’ll see…”

Mack opened up a small door near the calf’s neck. Ian came in at the same time and grabbed the calf’s back leg, pulling it out straight.

Angus walked over next with something in his hand, standing over the calf’s neck.

“What’s Angus doing?”

“He’s going to vaccinate the calf and then brand him.”

“Does it hurt?” I asked, ready to cry on the animal’s behalf.

“The vaccination? No, not at all. They inject them just under the skin, like the vet does with a cat or dog. The branding might hurt a little. Usually they just lie there, but sometimes they bawl a tad or kick once. It’s normal. They get up and move on like nothing happened right after, though. They’re tough little buggers. It’s the castration that hurts, but not as much as you might think.”

“Who does that part?” I asked, feeling sick to my stomach again.

“Boog. He gets paid in testes, and he’s as gentle and skilled as they come. We’re lucky to have him and so are the animals.”

I swallowed with effort, my voice coming out strained. “I think I might have misunderstood. I thought I just heard you say you pay him with balls.”

She chuckled and patted my knee. “No, you heard right. You’ll see why soon enough.”

I didn’t respond because I was quite sure I would never see how testicles could be considered a paycheck. Besides, arguing would be a waste of breath; they obviously worked on a different set of values around here.

The calf kicked a little and then seemed to give up, relinquishing his will to that of the men who held him down. Mack’s forearm muscles flexed under his skin and his thighs bulged through his jeans with the effort of flipping the calf and operating the machinery. He had the baseball hat on instead of a cowboy hat, and somehow managed to make it look sexier than I would have thought possible. I was definitely sick or something. Every time I looked at him I felt dizzy and out of sorts.

“What’s the matter, Andie?” Maeve was staring at me.

“Oh, I was just thinking I might have a fever or something. I feel a little light-headed.”

“It’s probably just the idea of castration. It’s not exactly after-dinner conversation, is it?”

Angus walked up with something on a cord and stopped at the animal’s back end.

“What’s he doing now? And do I even want to know?”

“Branding. Some ranchers use ear tags, but we find them a problem when the animals get too high in the mountains. Lots of branches and things for them to catch on, and then we get maggot problems. Plus, they’re easier to remove by rustlers. Branding is easy, quick, and less likely to cause problems later, so that’s what we do.”

Angus pressed the end of the iron into the side of the calf’s upper hip. A huge cloud of smoke rose up to surround Angus’s head, making me really glad I wasn’t close enough to smell the burning hair and flesh. “That poor baby,” I whispered, my hands curling into fists. I pressed them into my mouth, unable to tear my eyes away from the operation. Angus stood and moved out of the way.

“We take good care of our animals and branding is part of that,” explained Maeve, pride in her voice. “Without it they’d be easily stolen, and people who steal animals generally don’t take very good care of them.”

I wanted to stay mad at Mack for holding down the calf and allowing it to be hurt like that, but the simple fact is that I like hamburgers. My sense of fairness and accountability told me it was wrong to hate the process and participants when I was a willing beneficiary of it all. “I suppose if you do your best by the animals when they’re in your care, that’s the best you can do.”

“We follow the Temple Grandin methods out here as much as we possibly can. We’re big believers.”

“Temple Grandin?”

“She’s a brilliant scientist who’s done a lot to contribute to the livestock industry and animal husbandry. You should check her out online. She’s a pretty amazing woman.”

“Soooo … she has rules or whatever about how to do things?”

“Not rules, per se. See, she’s autistic, and has a special sensitivity to the world around her, much like cows do, in fact. So she’s able to see the world through their eyes, something ranchers never seemed to be able to do in the past. In our world, cattle are a means to an end. At least, that’s how it used to be. But thanks to her insight and contributions, we’ve been able to find ways to make the animals’ lives here as pleasant as possible while also making a living at raising them for food. It’s a delicate balance, but we like to think we’re getting it right.”

“It sounds fascinating.” I wasn’t lying either. I’d never heard of such a thing, and the fact that it was a woman doing the work of understanding cows for the benefit of ranchers was empowering even just to think about. It seemed like such a man’s world out here. This Temple person must have had an uphill battle on her hands. I admire kick-butt women in general, so I made a mental note to Google her later.