The rope halter hugged around a wet nose and slipped over a pair of fuzzy black ears, flicking back and forth between sounds and pesky flies. I tried my best to keep my hands steady. Cows, like most animals, I’m convinced, sense your fear. So do dads, and mine was watching closely from outside the gate. I wanted to impress him. At 11 years old, this was my first time haltering a heifer by myself, and she was officially “my heifer,” even though I felt about as in command over her as I did my shaking hands.

My dad had let me pick her out from the herd in October at the end of grazing season, before the rest of the 7-month-olds were weaned, loaded up and sent to sales and finishing lots. I’d scanned the leggy, goofy calves — some bald-faced and skittish, some butterscotch-colored from their

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