Alyssa-Francene Tamayo
Holy Cow
On the first day of spring break, during my senior year of college, I found myself sitting on a mule. I am not referring to the animal, but instead, a small off-road vehicle that resembles a golf cart. A cattleman was driving the four-wheeler mule to haul stacks of hay over rugged terrain. While sitting in the passenger seat, I was juggling a camera, a lavalier microphone, several SD cards, camera batteries, and a small notebook that I never even opened up. There was no time to review my interview questions. The cattleman got off the vehicle to herd a mother and her twin calves into a small pen. I quickly collected my camera equipment and jumped out of the vehicle to film this cattleman of 50 years interacting with his own cattle that he bred himself. As I stood there filming in a green pasture with cows and their calves all around me, the farmer turns around and yells. “Careful, they might charge and attack you!” he warns me from a hundred feet away. I was standing in a beautiful open pasture, unaware of the danger of calving cows and unaware of the fact that I was ankle deep in manure. But the danger and the smell of manure did not scare me away. I was walking through a piece of California that was completely unfamiliar to me, and I wanted to experience it all.
Nine months ago, when I was asked to talk about my potential project ideas to my peers in The Senior Reflection course, I expressed my interest in making a documentary about cattle. Nothing else about my senior project was well defined. Other than the media, which have questioned the ethics of farming in the beef cattle industry, I was not knowledgeable about cattle. I had never been around cattle before, and I was curious.
The seed of this film was planted two years ago while driving up the I-5 freeway in Northern California. I took a picture of a Holstein cow grazing in an open grassland, and taped the 4’ x 6’ photograph on my dorm room wall. However, nothing about photograph was particularly striking. I kept the picture because I was curious about where the cow returned to when she was finished with her afternoon snack. I wanted to know more about what I did not capture in the photograph— the farming lifestyle, the cattle business and the farmer who probably talks to his favorite cattle just as I talk to my pet dogs at home.
When I began my quest to find happy cattle and compassionate farmers, I searched online for cattle farms in California and then sent out a batch of twenty e-mails, pitching my cattle documentary to strangers. With the hope that I conveyed enough enthusiasm and professionalism to sell my documentary project, I prayed that I was not going to be perceived as a city girl or an intruder with a camera. Two hours after sending the email, I received a response from James Bright and Leo Brothers Show Steers. It was an invitation to their annual steer auction in Firebaugh, California. Out of the twenty cattle businesses I reached out to, James Bright and Leo Brothers Show Steers was the only business that contacted me. Little did I know, I had struck gold. Not only was this cattle business known for creating the most elite steers in the United States, but it has also created a reputation for breeding the most expensive bull in the world.
Through several phone interviews with James Bright, co-founder of James Bright and Leo Brothers Show Steers, I listened to his most memorable stories in his 50 years of working in the cattle industry. I was quickly surprised that even though we both grew up in California, the culture we have lived in was dramatically different. When I was a freshman in high school, I asked my parents if they could buy a dog. When James Bright was a freshman in high school, he asked his father to buy him four cows. Surprisingly, I learned that high school students buying cattle for thousands of dollars was not uncommon where he lived in Merced, California. I gained a new fascination with a national organization called Future Farmers of America, which James was a participant in. Future Farmers of America teaches the youth in high school about farming techniques and discipline. Through this national organization, young people receive an education in agriculture and are provided with hands-on farming experience relevant to their specific interest in agriculture. Although Future Farmers of America was founded in 1928, today’s youth is eager to be adept farmers and active participants of the national organization.
On my November visit to James Bright and Leo Brothers Show Steers’ annual auction, all buyers were high school students who were members of Future Farmers of America. I witnessed a fifteen-year-old buy a short, compact and hairy 500-pound steer for ten thousand dollars. While the price at twenty dollars a pound was shockingly expensive from my perspective, the cattlemen at the auction reminded me that these high school students ultimately get back their money. By winning at local/state/national fairs, and then eventually selling their grown 1500-pound adult steers, these high school students even earn profit through the process. Although these prized cattle are judged purely by their appearance in cattle shows, the fact that these cattle were made by a brand name also contributes to their winnings. As James Bright clarified the brand name concept to me, he used cars as an example. He said confidently, “Our steers are like the Mercedes of show steers.” James Bright has bred the top of the line cattle and his statistics at the renowned National Western Stock Show in Denver, Colorado prove his success.
James Bright engaged me in a new story of David and Goliath. Goliath was the most expensive bull in cattle history until Bright’s own Hereford bull. Bright’s bull named David sold for $301,000 at public auction in Denver’s 1981 National Western Stock Show. The Texans, who bought David, sold enough of David’s semen to pay off the money that they bought him with. When asked what traits made a prized bull, Bright stated that David’s long, tall and lean build were the most desirable characteristics for the beef industry in the 80s. Because artificial insemination was possible, David had progeny exhibiting his desired characteristics in two different continents. David’s semen was sold all over the United States, Canada, Brazil and Uruguay. Although David deceased 30 years ago, Bright still has 50 units of David’s semen stored in a large tank filled with liquid nitrogen for future buyers. As I was enthralled by David’s story, my documentary suddenly had a direction to explore how the science and technology of artificial insemination has revolutionized the way cattle are bred.
By collecting a bull’s semen and freezing it by units (1unit=1cm^3), one cow has a fifty percent chance of being impregnated by 1unit of semen. The average cost for a unit of semen is $25. Purchasing an elite bull would cost $40,000. AI allows farmers to be cost effective when running their business. Another advantage of artificial insemination (AI) includes an increase in semen availability from superior sires. With AI, a farmer can collect his sire’s semen and then sell a selected number of units to any beef farmer in the world. As a result, a single sire is capable of producing progeny across continents. Also, AI relieves the farmer from any difficulties they might have encountered in order to cross breed cattle (breeding a sire and a dam that are unrelated). Farmers do not have to risk their herd having health defects from inbreeding (breeding a sire and a dam that are unrelated).
A risk that can be reduced using AI is the transmission of sexually transmitted diseases (STDs). The collected semen can be tested for pathogens before using it for AI. Although testing may lead to false negative results, the possibility of disease transmission is less likely when the semen is collected and screened than if natural mating is used.
To conduct AI, a veterinarian or AI technician impregnates the cow with a catheter filled with semen. Even though hiring a trained individual to carry out artificial insemination is costly, farmers have proven the benefits of this breeding technique by producing quality bulls worth thousands of dollars. However, using AI in developing countries, may not be plausible. Since the AI procedure requires high technology, equipment and training, developing countries may not have the means to carry out AI safely. In this case, natural breeding is more convenient.
Below are the Collection and Artificial Insemination procedures.
Collection:
1. A bull mounts a fake cow and ejaculates into an artificial vagina.
2. The semen are divided into units and kept in straws.
3. The semen is stored in liquid nitrogen until it is ready to be used.
Artificial Insemination:
1. A cow in estrus is used.
2. The semen in a straw is taken out of the liquid nitrogen and is thawed in warm water for 60 seconds.
3. The insemination rod is prepared by placing the straw at one end of the rod.
4. While gloving up, the rod is place under the arm to keep the semen at body temperature.
5. One arm goes in rectally until the hand can feel the cervix of the cow.
6. With the other hand, the insemination rod is lead through the vulva, then the vagina, and finally, through the three rings of the cervix. Once the rod passes the third ring, it is already in the uterus.
7. Then, the semen is slowly injected in the uterus.
Fertilization occurs in 24 hours. Then, after 7 days, the fertilized egg will implant itself in the uterine wall. A calf is born 9 months later.
The calving process can be dangerous for the mother and the calf. Because these calves are large, one out of four calves must be pulled in order to reduce stress on both the cow and the calf. Pulling a calf literally means a farmer must physically pull out a calf using equipment called pullers. The calf should be standing within twenty minutes from the time it is born. The sooner the calf to gets up to drink colostrum milk from its mother, the stronger and healthier the calf will be. If calf does not get up, it cannot receive milk, and the chances of survival decrease. To help the calf, the mother will lick her calf to stimulate her calf to stand up. Another purpose of licking the calf is to eat the placenta. The mother has the instinct to lick the calf clean to get rid of the smell from the bodily fluids, which can attract predators in the area. If the mother is stressed from the birth, it is less likely that she will lick her calf. Because there are so many risks while calving, farmers will check on their cows every three hours to determine if a calf needs to be pulled or if a calf is getting colostrum milk.
Lastly, the cattleman’s life is at risk during calving. Even though the farmer’s intention is to help the calf and the mother, the mother is especially protective over her calf and will attack if there seems to be a threat. In the natural setting, where there are coyotes and mountain lions, a mother will do anything to protect her calf. James Bright explained to me that he has been charged and butted before. And I before I knew it, I was in a situation where I saw the cattleman confronted by his own cow.
James and I sat in his pick-up truck watching a cow struggle to deliver her calf. 30 minutes had passed and only the calf’s forelimbs and nose could be seen. The cow was not pushing hard enough. James was almost ready to intervene until the calf came out in a matter of seconds. The calf was laying on the grass. It was still. “Stay in the car,” he told me as he ran to the calf to nudge it. It was not moving. Covered in its own feces, the calf was an example of a distressed birth. James made several attempts to give doxypram hydrochloride, a respiratory stimulant, through an intramuscular injection. The cow threatened to charge him several times. Each time, James took several steps back for caution. On the third try James gave the injection successfully. However, there was still little movement coming from the calf. When James used a rope to pull the calf uphill, the cow made several threats again. I began to contemplate putting the video camera on the dashboard and helping him out even though I was told not to. Luckily, the calf began to cough up mucus and attempt walking within minutes. In that moment, I had realized that this had been the first birth I have ever witnessed.
The greatest struggle of the documentary project confronted me during the birth of that calf. I was torn between the two roles I had to play. I was the filmmaker who had to make sure I had all the video and sound I needed to retell the story. If I missed getting the birth on camera or if the calf did not survive, I knew I had to ask the farmer to contact me again if another cow was about to deliver. At the end of the day, the documentary depends on what I am able to catch on film— not what I experience off camera. My second role was to be the observer. I was simply experiencing everything for the first time, and I had to soak it all in. As an observer, I was torn between getting the birth on film and putting down the camera to help the farmer. During the birth event, I had to learn how to control my emotions. I needed to enjoy the experience and be actively present with the farmer, but not too overwhelmed with emotion to affect the quality of my film.
Balancing roles became a skill I had to learn from the very beginning of the project. In October, a week before my first filming day at the steer auction, an email was sent to me in preparation to film. The email contained a list of things that I should think about before going to the auction. A few considerations included getting an experienced film crew, a director of photography, a production assistant, lighting/sound equipment, and personal release forms. After reading the long list of recommendations, I felt defeated. What was a getting myself into? On the last filming day, when I spent a whole day with the James Bright and his stepson, Matt Leo, there was no room on the mule for a film crew. That day, I did not use a tripod or any handheld light reflectors. I prayed that my camera’s light was strong enough and that my film would not turn out shaking like the Blair Witch Project. I am still amazed that I pulled it off. I held the camera, framed the shot, asked the questions, hooked up the sound equipment, changed the batteries and SD cards, and still managed to have the time of my life.
While one of the most rewarding aspects of the documentary project was conducting the fieldwork, the excitement of interacting with farmers and making discoveries about the farming culture was short-lived in the editing room. After collecting four hours of footage from three filming days, watching the footage over and over again was the most tedious process in this film project. Towards the end of editing the film, I had already memorized every transition and could even recite all the voiceovers and dialogues. At this point, there was no shock value in the birth scene or in the beautiful landscape. The silly sire names like Cash Only, Secret Service and Hot Wire did not amuse me anymore. I was emotionally detached from the film.
The screening of my documentary was almost like a gift. As the audience was discovering this cattle culture through my documentary, it was as if I was rediscovering this world all over again. I gasped with them when I saw David’s enormous size and was told his worth of $301,000. I laughed with the audience when James Bright gloved up during the dry demonstration of artificial insemination. I was scared for the farmer when the cow threatened to charge him. And lastly, I was relieved when I saw the calf breath again. The title of the documentary itself, Holy Cow, seemed like the perfect fit at this point. The title represented both the shock value and the desire to breed the perfect cattle.
Before I began my quest in Merced, California, I was not sure if the idyllic story of a happy cow and her compassionate farmer existed. Now, every time I catch a glimpse of cow grazing in an open pasture, I think about the thrill of staring eye to eye with a fifteen hundred pound animal and witnessing the birth of a calf. I have a newfound respect for these cattlemen who wake up at three in the morning to check on a pregnant cow, which they have bred themselves. I learned that behind the pastoral setting there is a cattleman—part businessman, part scientist and part superhero.
Holy Cow is a 20-minute documentary film about my quest to find happy cattle. By following James Bright, a cattleman of 50 years, I learned that there are prized cattle living glamorous lives as they compete in national livestock shows. I discovered that artificial insemination has lead to the creation of these perfect looking cattle. As I document the beef breeding process on the Bright Farm, I also found myself recording the relationship between a man and a fifteen hundred pound animal.