It was a crisp Autumn day with the smell of corn dust and fall in the air. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, and everything looked almost picturesque.  It was the beginning of my freshman year, and I had just arrived home after a very disappointing football game, possibly resulting in the end of my football career.  But I was not sad, because today was a day i’d been anticipating for some time, today was the day I would buy my first livestock.  Upon arriving home I met my dad in the yard, who was waiting for me with the trailer, and the pickup already running. 

When he saw me walk up, with a stoic look on his face, he asked me “ya ready to go?”.
“you betcha” I replied with a grin on on my face. He turned and looked at me with a big smile due to my excitement, gave me a nod, and away we went.
The drive was nothing new to me, me and dad in the pickup with the big metallic trailer behind us kicking up a cloud of dust. Yet this time it felt different, because this time it was for me.  The first part of the drive was same old same old, seeing things i’d seen a million times before.  Once we got past Montgomery the landscape started changing. From the flat cornfields scattered with houses everywhere that I was familiar to, it became what seemed like endless hills scattered with cattle, and not a building in sight. It seemed as though we had driven a thousand miles West.  Finally we arrived at our destination, a long driveway with cattle on either side.
Upon arriving I finally found a familiar sight, a hog barn just like the ones I was used to, long and narrow with feed bins lining one side.  With it came a familiar smell from the pit fans.  We parked in the yard next to the owner of this operation.  I’d talked to him countless times over the phone but had never met him.  He looked as though he had just walked out of the 70’s.  He had a beer belly, and was wearing a vintage striped button up shirt with tight denim jeans, cowboy boots, a push broom mustache, and those big framed glasses that the only people that wear them are old farmers and Clark Griswald.  As I walked up to him he stuck out a big calloused mit and as I shook his hand he smiled and said “You must be here for the calves.”
Without wasting time with small talk he started walking to a small barn and gave us a wave to follow.  Once we got there I saw five small calves, three black and two red, jumping around chasing each other around the pen.  When they saw us they all sprinted to the fence bucking their little heads, thinking we were there to feed them.  Their owner explained to us how they were his misfits, and how sick he was of bottle feeding them, and hoped I would buy them.  I guess one man's trash is another man’s treasure, because I wanted those calves in the worst kind of way.  We sat and talked for probably a half hour about just about everything under the sun, from hogs, to cattle, to politics.  As I climbed in the pen I was surprised at how friendly they were, they were the tamest beef calves I’d ever seen. This was probably due to the fact that beef calves are usually too busy hiding behind their mothers, but these calves’ mothers either didn’t want them or they no longer had mothers.  So in case you don't know much about cattle that means they think you're their mother. 
Finally their owner asked my dad that magic question “ So you think you wanna make them yours?”
Dad just simply turned and looked at me indicating it was my decision to make.  With them both staring at me in anticipation from the fence, I took one more long look at the calves, thinking about how much work they would be, if I’d be able to afford buying them and caring for them, is it worth all the risks, and mainly my inexperience with cattle.  Then I looked down and saw the one runty little black heifer using my leg as a scratching post and decided there’s only one way to find out. I looked up with a smirk and told them both “ I pay in cash ”. 
Their owner noded and replied “ I’ll even cut ya a deal since they like you so much” with a grin on his face, which was a huge relief to me.  “A hundred bucks a piece” he shot at me, not knowing that was the kind of price a guy would only charge if he was well off and wanted to see a young guy get a good start.  I turned and looked at dad for guidance, who simply gave me a big nod.  I stuck out my hand with butterflies in my stomach, which was met with a firm handshake.  I reached into my pocket and grabbed a roll of cash I’d been saving for as long as I could remember for something special.  I almost painfully peeled off five crisp hundred dollar bills, and looking at my diminished savings, thought to myself “I guess I found that something special”.  I shoved my remaining money back into my pocket,  and slapped the cash into his hand.  He had a smile so big it bent his mustache as he counted it, cash is non taxed income to a farmer. 
“They’re your problem now” he told me, as I could see his relief of no longer bottle feeding twice a day. His comment didn’t bug me though, because as I carried those squirming calves one at a time to the trailer, I was the proudest 15 year old in the world.  I had loaded countless livestock, and worked with tens of thousands of different animals in my life at this point, but these ones were special, because these ones were mine.
We said our farewells and parted ways with my calves now former owner, and dad and I hit the road heading home.  “ I hope you know what you just got yourself into, this isn't going to be easy, and once you have one you might as well have twenty,  and before you know it you’ll have fifty” dad told me.
“ One thing at a time, let’s just get these home first “ I replied smirking
“You’ll see, I was your age too once”  dad said as he lead into a back in my day story. Well dad was right it wasn't easy, I woke up every morning before school for months mixing bottles and feeding those calves, then came home and feed them again, and my freetime magically started disappearing. He was right about not stopping at five too, I now raise about 30 head on two different farms by myself. 
This was a pivotal day in my life because in that disappointing football game I dislocated my shoulder for the fifth time in a month, and that was the last football game I ever played.  One thing I learned was that for every door that closes another one opens.  I now spend just about all my time outside of school tending my cattle.  Whenever I start feeling sorry for myself, I think about the constant aches in my shoulder and back and think about Bossy, that little friendly black heifer who still uses me as a scratching post, and realize I made the right decision.