It’s graduation day on the ranch. It’s a noisy celebration, but not so festive.

Weaning day, USA! It’s time for the babies to say goodbye to their moms. Boy, do they say goodbye loudly! The neighbors are calling and I expect the law to show up any minute. The moms aren’t any happier; they’re bellowing right along with the calves.

Possum made the mistake of swimming in the ditch, meaning he has to sleep in his outside house… meaning he’ll bark all night in cadence with the beat of the moo graduation ceremony.

I tried to run a little interference. I thought, maybe if I stand between them and the scent of their mothers, they’ll take a liking to me and give the mooing a rest. Fat chance! They just shouted, “moooove out of my way!”

Okay, on a serious note (if there can be one), one poor (much older) steer is enduring the blunt of this fiasco.

He’s locked in the catch pens with the babies. One of the baby bulls has decided to talk a little trash, thinking he’s a little bigger than he is. He’s persistent! He just stands there with his bald head locked into the forehead of the steer, spinning his hooves for all he’s worth. I’m not positive, but I think I heard the steer say, “seriously?” Maybe it was more like moo-eeously?

I have to say I’m impressed by the maturity of the steer though. It’s pretty obvious with one head-butt he could send the calf sprawling, but he just stands there taking it, realizing that his young foe isn’t really a threat, just a calf learning to be a bull.

At this point, I think I heard Karin say, “Hmmm.” Might there be something to learn here?

As for the rest of us, I’d suggest howling at the moon… but who’d hear us over the mooing? M-O-O-N… that spells ranch life.