When Jack McCauley walks up to the pasture gate on his farm, the mooing stops and every head turns in his direction.
“Here girls,” he yells as he swings open the gate. “Let’s go.”
Almost as if he were a pied piper, 22 cows follow McCauley through two gates and into another small pasture covered in almost waist-high native switchgrass. It took McCauley almost two years to get the pasture looking like that.
But it was worth it, he said. Two of his calves recently sold for more than he expected.