Opinion: My days of buying cheap heifers are over
Stephen Carr © MAG/Phil Clarke Once a year, courtesy of an invite from the editor, I don black tie and head to the Grosvenor House Hotel in London for the Farmers Weekly awards dinner.
Among all the glitter and razzamatazz, my already fragile belief in my own farming abilities is quickly shaken as a procession of farmers are invited to the stage to accept prizes for everything from beef farming to diversification.
This year, as the accolades were handed out, I tried to reassure myself by picturing the bright yellow rosette that has recently taken pride of place in my farm office, awarded to our herd by the Sussex Cattle Society, for third place in its large herd competition.
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Perhaps to many farmers, third place in such a competition is not a big deal. But let me tell you, that is not the case on this farm.
So desperate am I for any sort of recognition of competence from my peers that I even considered wearing the rosette to my local livestock market and NFU meetings in the hope of impressing them.
I was persuaded not to by my wife, who pointed out everyone would think I was canvassing for the Lib Dems – possibly not a popular move with some of the farming community in these parts.
Prior to becoming a breeder of pedigree Sussex cattle, I used to buy bulling heifers for my suckler herd of more or less any breed or shape, provided they looked cheap.
Each spring, my farm foreman, who has a much better eye for stock than me, would greet me with a panicked expression as I arrived back from market.
As I dropped the tailboard of the Ifor Williams, he would say something like “That’s a nice heifer”, which was his way of saying that the others were rubbish.
These days, instead of buying cross-breeds, I return home with heifers bought privately from Society breeders or the Society’s spring sale.
These perfect pampered creatures strut off the tailboard like royalty – as well they might, for their individual ancestry can be traced back much further than my own.
But old habits die hard. This spring I bought some Sussex heifers that turned up at my local market.
Although they were pedigree, they were not the deep mahogany red favoured by Society breeders – but bright orange, like a Limousin.
They were rough-coated, in plain condition, and had been dehorned in a way that had left crumpled stumps on top of their heads. But they were cheap.
I considered hiding them when the Sussex Cattle Society judges came to look over our herd but, apparently, that is cheating.
Cheating or not, I do wish I’d hidden them, because when the report came from the eagle-eyed judges, it said that our “home-bred bulling heifers” were among the best they’d seen in competition this year.
Who knows, had I not bought those heifers, our herd might well have come second or even first this spring.
So my days of buying cheap breeding heifers are finally behind me. I have become a full-blown farming trophy hunter.
That my mantelpiece should be laden with awards is now more important to me than my bank balance staying in the black.