Imprinted

"Aha, there it is," I stated to the yearling Hereford bull while vigorously scratching the swirl of hair on his back.  With a cocked head popping up and down in glorious delight and in rhythm to my scratching, he rolled out his long tapered tongue, making curlicues with it.
I was walking the bull pen, checking on everyone, with a vast majority eyeballing me and maintaining a safe distance.  But, this little white-faced bull stood his ground and allowed me to approach.  I reached out to his wet, leathery nose and he greeted my hand with a sniff and a lick from his rough tongue.  He tolerated me as I scratched his face and slowly moved to his neck. I moved closer and he stepped to the side and appeared conflicted: part of him wanted to run and join the others, but another part wanted more of the feel good scratchin'. He remained and I found his sweet spot between his shoulder blades.  This discovery began a daily ritual during feeding and, curiously, another bull joined the routine. Why are 2 bulls out of the pen of 35 doing this?  I found it peculiar and began some research.

What I learned was that both were born to momma's with gigantic teats, so huge that all their clumsy newborn mouths could do was give a hickey on the side of them without ever getting a drink. Without getting colostrum, the nectar of life, their stay on earth would be short lived so it forced human intervention. 

Running momma into a chute and manipulating the newborn calves for several days with the monster teats created much human/calf interaction. Once they could tackle the blown-out mammary systems on their own, out to pasture they went. (I will not name the breeder or even address selling seed stock animals where the mother had such horrible udder/teat issues...)

So, my tiny research project suggested that repeatedly handling a newborn calf may leave a long term impression where later in life, they don't mind human attention.

Fast forward several years and, oddly, I'm breeding a mammoth jack donkey to brood mares to create mules. I happened across a book written by Dr. Robert M. Miller, Imprint Training of the Newborn Foal.  Passionately, I absorbed contents from the book that basically explained exposing newborn foals to a variety of experiences that they will encounter later in life such as putting a finger in their mouth to simulate a bit, moving their ears as if being bridled, bending their legs and tapping on their hooves to simulate a visit from the farrier, etc. Despite the slimy newborns seeming light years away to store anything in their infant brains, later in life it was discovered these newborns better accepted human manipulation as compared to untouched foals.

Well, from my experience in the bull pen, I was a believer and wished I had written the book prior to Dr. Miller. (Based on my current attempt in getting published, Dr. Miller would have had nothing to worry about.) Impatiently, I hovered over the pregnant mares and finally my first mule foal, Jed, arrived.  I helped peel afterbirth from his scrawny body and proceeded to smother him with Imprint Training.  The results were spectacular with an incredible trust with humans.

Regrettably, a change in life forced me to disperse of all livestock interests. Jed was a good boy and he fortunately was sold to a wonderful home. In fact, his first year to ever pack into an elk camp had a marvelous story relayed to me.  Most beasts of burden initially get white-eyed and frantic being led to a big bloody carcass to pack out, but not Jed.  He waltzed up like a little kid, looking at the field dressed elk. Then, on his own, he stuck his nose into the ribcage for inspection and had no complaints when his panniers were loaded. The ecstatic owners later called and wondered what I had done with him in his early years...

I still wonder who got imprinted more, me or the newborn animals I was blessed to have met?