Big Joe

[tom upton]

The post about the oldest cow got me to thinkin about Big Joe. He was a steer that belonged to my Dads lifelong friend Nory Munro, and was touted to be the biggest steer in the country. I believe he lived to be close to 20 and was /is buried on Norys farm. Dad used to joke that Nory thought more of that steer than most people. He took it to most of the local fairs, and when he got too old to support his own wieght while traveling in Norys stock truck he made a sling affair that went under Big Joe to hold him up. I recall the day big Joe went to cow heaven. Nory came over for a visit, probably wanted to tell us about Big Joe, but hadnt said anything when Dad asked how big Joe was doing? Nory didnt say a word but tears started to roll down his cheeks. Pretty sure it was the first and only time I ever saw that man cry. Its pretty incredible how a "hardened farmer" can become so attached to an animal. So is there anyone out there that had /has a steer that can top Big Joe? The article says 1 1/2 tons but pretty sure at his heaviest he went 3600 pounds.

 

[Buckhammer]

My dad said the only time he seen his dad cry (my grandpa) was the day he laid his last team of horses to rest.

 

[RedMF40]

The post about the oldest cow got me to thinkin about Big Joe. He was a steer that belonged to my Dads lifelong friend Nory Munro, and was touted to be the biggest steer in the country. I believe he lived to be close to 20 and was /is buried on Norys farm. Dad used to joke that Nory thought more of that steer than most people. He took it to most of the local fairs, and when he got too old to support his own wieght while traveling in Norys stock truck he made a sling affair that went under Big Joe to hold him up. I recall the day big Joe went to cow heaven. Nory came over for a visit, probably wanted to tell us about Big Joe, but hadnt said anything when Dad asked how big Joe was doing? Nory didnt say a word but tears started to roll down his cheeks. Pretty sure it was the first and only time I ever saw that man cry. Its pretty incredible how a "hardened farmer" can become so attached to an animal. So is there anyone out there that had /has a steer that can top Big Joe? The article says 1 1/2 tons but pretty sure at his heaviest he went 3600 pounds.

I can imagine their bond, the friendship Nory shared with Big Joe. Always sad to lose a friend like that.

 

[Ray,IN]

My dad said the only time he seen his dad cry (my grandpa) was the day he laid his last team of horses to rest.

A man can form a tight bond with a horse, and the horse with the man.. Dad had a team that responded to his voice commands. I tried it and they just stood there. We were hand picking corn one day and the team would move with him, without him saying anything. When dad sold that farm and everything else, he went for a long walk in the woods when the man came to haul them away; came back at dusk.

The horse in my avatar was a rescue horse. It took me a year before she would allow me to rub her head. When the farrier came she would not allow him to touch her feet. i had to pick up her foot and change places with the farrier while someone stood by her neck so she could not see what was happening.
I gave her to a friend a year before he died of cancer.

 

[DanielW]

We've never had a steer that topped Big Joe (or even came close), but your story reminded me of some similar stories: The chap who used to truck our cattle (you might know him Tom - he's from your neck of the woods) was about 250 pounds of non-emotional, typically-grumpy muscle. He always seemed liked just about the toughest guy you could imagine (and probably was). But one time he got talking and said something like, "Yeah, when Dad and Mum passed I didn't shed a tear. Figured it was just their time. But when that old cow that Art gave me finally died I bawled my eyes out". I was a kid at the time, and I was in shock at the thought of this guy shedding a tear under any circumstance.

I can also appreciate Ray's comments about animals forming a bond/understanding with their owners. My grandfather was a proper teamster, and we always had a team of draft mares for logging (and drawing sap). He died early in the winter of 2004. We didn't hitch the team up at all in 2005/2006, but in Jan of 2007 I harnessed them to take them for a quick spin around the pasture (or rather, what I thought would be a quick spin around the pasture) to get them back in the groove. The second I stepped on the logging sleigh after hitching up the last trace chain, they took off at speed. I had a very hard time trying to check their speed, and they fought the lines to the point where I stopped trying to turn/guide them, and just let take me where they wanted. I was worried, because I didn't intend to work them hard because they hadn't worked in over two years. But they really wanted to boogey, and you could tell they were having a great time and very happy to get back to work. They took me over a mile into one of our hardwood bushes, and stopped the sleigh exactly at the last loading spot where my grandfather had been logging with them right until the morning he died over two years earlier. I stopped, let them catch their breath for half an hour or so, hopped back on the sleigh, said something like "Good work girls, let's go'. Then (again without any guidance from me) they took me straight back the path my grandfather would have last taken them back, and stopped in the barnyard exactly at the last spot my grandfather had last been unloading with them.

After that, they followed commands and were a well-behaved team (though we never had time to do any more logging with them, and I certainly never developed the connection/understanding my grandfather had with them). But they never fought the lines and always followed commands/guidance after that. I guess they just wanted to get one last run in to the bush where my grandfather had last been working with them. Maybe they remembered there was a skid of logs left to come out from the morning before my grandfather died.

 

[Mcrafty1]

We've never had a steer that topped Big Joe (or even came close), but your story reminded me of some similar stories: The chap who used to truck our cattle (you might know him Tom - he's from your neck of the woods) was about 250 pounds of non-emotional, typically-grumpy muscle. He always seemed liked just about the toughest guy you could imagine (and probably was). But one time he got talking and said something like, "Yeah, when Dad and Mum passed I didn't shed a tear. Figured it was just their time. But when that old cow that Art gave me finally died I bawled my eyes out". I was a kid at the time, and I was in shock at the thought of this guy shedding a tear under any circumstance.

I can also appreciate Ray's comments about animals forming a bond/understanding with their owners. My grandfather was a proper teamster, and we always had a team of draft mares for logging (and drawing sap). He died early in the winter of 2004. We didn't hitch the team up at all in 2005/2006, but in Jan of 2007 I harnessed them to take them for a quick spin around the pasture (or rather, what I thought would be a quick spin around the pasture) to get them back in the groove. The second I stepped on the logging sleigh after hitching up the last trace chain, they took off at speed. I had a very hard time trying to check their speed, and they fought the lines to the point where I stopped trying to turn/guide them, and just let take me where they wanted. I was worried, because I didn't intend to work them hard because they hadn't worked in over two years. But they really wanted to boogey, and you could tell they were having a great time and very happy to get back to work. They took me over a mile into one of our hardwood bushes, and stopped the sleigh exactly at the last loading spot where my grandfather had been logging with them right until the morning he died over two years earlier. I stopped, let them catch their breath for half an hour or so, hopped back on the sleigh, said something like "Good work girls, let's go'. Then (again without any guidance from me) they took me straight back the path my grandfather would have last taken them back, and stopped in the barnyard exactly at the last spot my grandfather had last been unloading with them.

After that, they followed commands and were a well-behaved team (though we never had time to do any more logging with them, and I certainly never developed the connection/understanding my grandfather had with them). But they never fought the lines and always followed commands/guidance after that. I guess they just wanted to get one last run in to the bush where my grandfather had last been working with them. Maybe they remembered there was a skid of logs left to come out from the morning before my grandfather died.

Cool story, good teamsters usually have an uncommon bound with their animals, Maybe it's the animals, maybe the teamster or likely a combination of the two. Sounds like your grandfather and that team were well in tune with each other.

 

[showcrop]

Here is some years deceased Frank Scruton formerly of Scruton's dairy in Rochester NH with Chianina, his (I believe) Charolais steer. He took his team to the fairs for some years after he was no longer able to handle them, depending on his son Arthur, who is also now deceased, to drive them. In Frank's obituary it states that one of Frank's steers was in Ripley's believe it or not as the largest working steer in the world.

 

[300jk]

Here is some years deceased Frank Scruton formerly of Scruton's dairy in Rochester NH with Chianina, his (I believe) Charolais steer. He took his team to the fairs for some years after he was no longer able to handle them, depending on his son Arthur, who is also now deceased, to drive them.

I think I may have seen that animal at the Erie County fair in Ny when I was young. Would have been early to mid 80’s.