Big hat, not cattle

About two years ago my Dad bought a cattle block.  My Dad, like me and my Grandfather, however, has never realy been much of a cattleman:  he seems to be changing, however.  He doesn't do much of the day to day work, but he does seem to be taking more interest in cattle than I've ever seen before. 

I am, too.  One of the changes in moving out to the South Burnett is the change in butchers - the previous owner of the Kilkivan butcher started an appreciation for good grassfed steak, and the others have done good things to encourage our meat eating generally, whether it be in the line of small goods, bacon or Barker's Creek pork steaks, they've got good products and sell them for a reasonable price.

As a kid I can remember my Mum cremating steaks - cooked on too low a heat, for too long, and turned too often.  In her defence, she says my Grandmother was worse.  You would have too feel sorry for the cow - it was bad enough to die once without having to go through that experience.  But that has changed - a good steak, cooked (by someone other than Mum) quickly on a high teperature plate is an entirely different proposition, and I think this might be why the old man and I are appreciating cattle more now than we did before.

One of the books I never got to read over my college break was the Tain (The Cattle Raid of Cooley):  the Irish Illiad.  Isn't it strange that the Greek national saga is about everyone going to war over a woman, and our heroes go to war over a steak?  And in the end, the Brown Bull of Culange goes mad and kills himself by taking on a dirty big rock an losing.

Steaks taste good, but cattle are still stupid.