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Charley created a vegetarian just last week. "You mean this is what they make beef out of?" asked Gretchen. She was brushing loose hair from Charley's massive side, as he tilted his head in an expression of pure ecstasy. "Yup, that would be right," I said. Charley's cuddly good looks (all 2,000 pounds of them) qualify him as an ambassador for large bovines even from a distance. His gentle and inquisitive personality touches you immediately and makes you wonder why anyone would think of such a character as "food animal."
As people walk, drive, or ride their bikes down the winding country road that fronts on the pasture where Charley the ox lives with his horse friends, they ofter stop to visit. Charley obliges by lumbering over the fence. His curiosity and friendliness show though as he sniffs and licks his visitors. Children reach to pat his large head with its curly locks of hair. With his one good eye (the other lost to an infection when he was a small calf) Charley takes in everything.
We met through the animal shelter in Tennessee where my wife was a veterinarian. Charley was found as a young calf, wandering and virtually blind in suburban Knoxville. He was never claimed. Unfortunately, intensive medical care was unable to save his infected eye, and adoptive homes for one-eyed oxen are not easy to come by. Since our house is a defacto home for the adoptable, we felt that a pet ox would fit in with the dogs, ducks, chickens, draft horses, bunnies, and turtles. So Charley came to live on our little farm in the hills east of town. We provided a calf stall and feed; he just provided himself, which was more than enough for us. His future roommates, Cass and Rheo, were huge rescued draft horses, and outweighed Charley by about 1,800 pounds each. However, coming from a particularly large breed of bovines, he soon matched the horses pound-for-pound.
As with all youngsters, Charley required a bit of education. Charley's first teacher was an eleven-year-old girl from France, who lived next door to our farm. Their friendship and rapport may have stemmed from the fact that Anais could actually pronounce Charley's breed - "Charolais" - properly. Charley quickly learned how to wear a halter and lead, and he learned pretty quickly how much he loved to be brushed. It all came pretty naturally, as he always wanted to please.
When we moved to California, Charley, or course, came along. He traveled in a very large trailer with Cass and Rheo, and we stopped every night at fairgrounds in small towns across America. Gentle and well-behaved, Charley got out for a walk every few hours, just like our dogs. When, asked why we were moving with an ox, my answer would be: "we are friends for life."
Having long settled into his west coast routine, Charley starts each day by coming up the the feeding area to check the status of his breakfast. On the off chance that the humans are not in the yard to feed by 7AM and some coaxing is required, the volume of his voice makes the whole valley ring. Though he spends most of his time in the pasture grazing, ruminating, and enjoying the central Californian sun, he is always available for an introduction to people who lack experience with the bovine ethos. Even when in deep sleep in his favorite grassy corner, his response to having his name called is immediate, yet he doesn't respond the way a dog or human would. He doesn't see the call so much as a command as an invitation to dialogue. And his response is generally, "well, yes I'm here. What did you have in mind?" We go from there to consider whether haltering and a walk to the brushing area would be a good idea, or is some unrestrained grooming in the field would be more reasonable.
Going for a walk involves similar communication. Charley was well halter-trained from his youth, and his light rope halter is the only thing necessary for control, despite out weight disparity of a good ton. But there are often things along the route that might require his attention and scrutiny and I am compelled to oblige his interests. What is like if you don't take time to much the poison oak anyway? At other times the important things require head up, ears forward, and a good alert snort. Giving me a tour of what he can sense and I cnanot, and what attracts him that I miss, is Charley's contribution to my education. When I need reflection and calm there is really nothing better than walking with Charley.
Meandering down the old farm road, next to a creature who enjoys each moment for what it is, has taught me a goof deal. With all that size and power there is never any use of force, only a desire to be "part of the herd" and have every day to be interesting and new. With the possibility of a good back scratch or quiet rumination always on the horizon, Charley sets an example of how we all might look at the world.
-Eric Davis, DVM
As people walk, drive, or ride their bikes down the winding country road that fronts on the pasture where Charley the ox lives with his horse friends, they ofter stop to visit. Charley obliges by lumbering over the fence. His curiosity and friendliness show though as he sniffs and licks his visitors. Children reach to pat his large head with its curly locks of hair. With his one good eye (the other lost to an infection when he was a small calf) Charley takes in everything.
We met through the animal shelter in Tennessee where my wife was a veterinarian. Charley was found as a young calf, wandering and virtually blind in suburban Knoxville. He was never claimed. Unfortunately, intensive medical care was unable to save his infected eye, and adoptive homes for one-eyed oxen are not easy to come by. Since our house is a defacto home for the adoptable, we felt that a pet ox would fit in with the dogs, ducks, chickens, draft horses, bunnies, and turtles. So Charley came to live on our little farm in the hills east of town. We provided a calf stall and feed; he just provided himself, which was more than enough for us. His future roommates, Cass and Rheo, were huge rescued draft horses, and outweighed Charley by about 1,800 pounds each. However, coming from a particularly large breed of bovines, he soon matched the horses pound-for-pound.
As with all youngsters, Charley required a bit of education. Charley's first teacher was an eleven-year-old girl from France, who lived next door to our farm. Their friendship and rapport may have stemmed from the fact that Anais could actually pronounce Charley's breed - "Charolais" - properly. Charley quickly learned how to wear a halter and lead, and he learned pretty quickly how much he loved to be brushed. It all came pretty naturally, as he always wanted to please.
When we moved to California, Charley, or course, came along. He traveled in a very large trailer with Cass and Rheo, and we stopped every night at fairgrounds in small towns across America. Gentle and well-behaved, Charley got out for a walk every few hours, just like our dogs. When, asked why we were moving with an ox, my answer would be: "we are friends for life."
Having long settled into his west coast routine, Charley starts each day by coming up the the feeding area to check the status of his breakfast. On the off chance that the humans are not in the yard to feed by 7AM and some coaxing is required, the volume of his voice makes the whole valley ring. Though he spends most of his time in the pasture grazing, ruminating, and enjoying the central Californian sun, he is always available for an introduction to people who lack experience with the bovine ethos. Even when in deep sleep in his favorite grassy corner, his response to having his name called is immediate, yet he doesn't respond the way a dog or human would. He doesn't see the call so much as a command as an invitation to dialogue. And his response is generally, "well, yes I'm here. What did you have in mind?" We go from there to consider whether haltering and a walk to the brushing area would be a good idea, or is some unrestrained grooming in the field would be more reasonable.
Going for a walk involves similar communication. Charley was well halter-trained from his youth, and his light rope halter is the only thing necessary for control, despite out weight disparity of a good ton. But there are often things along the route that might require his attention and scrutiny and I am compelled to oblige his interests. What is like if you don't take time to much the poison oak anyway? At other times the important things require head up, ears forward, and a good alert snort. Giving me a tour of what he can sense and I cnanot, and what attracts him that I miss, is Charley's contribution to my education. When I need reflection and calm there is really nothing better than walking with Charley.
Meandering down the old farm road, next to a creature who enjoys each moment for what it is, has taught me a goof deal. With all that size and power there is never any use of force, only a desire to be "part of the herd" and have every day to be interesting and new. With the possibility of a good back scratch or quiet rumination always on the horizon, Charley sets an example of how we all might look at the world.
-Eric Davis, DVM
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