The Naughty Heifer and the Fence That Failed
We had a plan. A good one, too.
Three cows—technically two cows and one heifer—were supposed to be prepped for AI. Schedules were coordinated, semen was purchased (expensive, carefully chosen semen), and optimism was high.
And then… cows happened.
Instead, last night I caught the naughty Jersey heifer giving the Dexter bull a complimentary ride like it was part of a rewards program. No reservation required. Turns out there was the tiniest gap in the fence behind the round pen. The bull, being the logical problem-solver that he is, decided: If my head fits, clearly the rest of me will too. After politely bending the fence to accommodate his shoulders, hips, and audacity, he strutted through like Mr. Joe Cool himself, like he’d planned it all along.
Victorious. Smug. Unbothered.
I saw the whole thing play out with my own two eyes and am convinced that exact thought rolled through his lizard brain.
What followed was a full-blown cattle rodeo.
There I was, holding a gate open, desperately trying to call the heifer into a safe area while simultaneously holding one arm out like a traffic cop to keep the rest of the cows from joining in on the shenanigans. Bless my cows—they listened. This time. Meanwhile, my husband is trying to literally cock block the bull, which is (apparently) far easier to describe in writing than to accomplish in real life.
Round and round the three of them went.
The heifer, absolutely enchanted by the attention, had no intention of listening to me. Foolish wishful thinking on my part, but I had to try. When it became clear she was not coming willingly, I decided to grab a halter and a bucket of treats.
I turned my back and took exactly three steps.
That’s when my husband yelled, “HE GOT IN!”
I won’t lie—I saw red.
This heifer is a full-blood Jersey. I bought special, sexed mini Jersey semen just for her. Two hundred and fifty dollars a straw. In one instant, my carefully laid plans and dreams of a mini were dashed.
Words were said. Loudly. Words I won’t repeat here, but let’s just say I fully earned that shirt that reads, “I’m sorry for what I said while we were working cattle.” The general theme of my rant was questioning why he didn’t put a hand on her lady parts to block the bull.
Listen- if we had traded places, I absolutely would have dove in.
After tempers cooled, my husband informed me that this was clearly a coordinated effort. The heifer and bull had paid off the steer—promising him first choice at the clover.
The steer stepped on my husband’s foot and, in fluent bovinese, declared, “NOW!”—clearly on cue.
The heifer spun.
The bull landed.
The package was delivered.
Mission accomplished and the steer casually stepped off his foot like nothing had happened.
I am not exaggerating when I say it happened in seconds.
Yes, I could give her a lute shot in a few weeks and try again. But my AI tech is coming in less than two weeks, and I hate asking him to come out for just one cow. So… it is what it is. At this point, I’m hoping for a bull calf we can beef. A small victory, but I’ll take it.
And honestly? This is farm life.
You can plan meticulously. You can invest in genetics, schedules, and systems. But animals don’t read calendars, respect budgets, or care about our best intentions. They remind us—sometimes loudly and inconveniently—that we are working with life, not controlling it.
Some days you get exactly what you planned for.
Other days, you get a story you’ll be telling for years.
And if nothing else, this one gave us a good laugh, a lesson in humility, and a reminder that the best laid plans often turn into the best memories.
Plus… it helps that they’re so dang cute.
About the Author:
Kimberly Jepsen is the heart behind MooShine Ridge in Vinita, Oklahoma, where she and her husband, Kevin, have been raising dual-purpose Dexter cows since 2015. Their little farm store is a labor of love, offering Dexter beef, raw milk, and artisan cheeses made from their own cows. Kimberly has a deep passion for the Dexter breed and loves nothing more than sharing what she’s learned over the years—whether it’s guiding fellow farmers, helping newcomers discover the joys of small-scale farming, or simply introducing people to the rich, creamy flavors of her handcrafted cheeses. For her, farming isn’t just a business—it’s a way to nurture animals, the land, and the community she cares about. https://mooshineridge.com/
