Saturday morning was all about shaky starts. After a disappointing championship exit, we’d embarked on a ritualistic sorrow-drowning exercise the previous night. The birds were in full song when I disembarked from our taxi - the driver of which, a pleasant Nigerian gentlemen, incidentally furious with his BDGP report. As I fumbled with my keys, a shuddering realization suddenly spouted - our heifers were to be scanned later that morning.

It felt like the head had barely hit the pillow when my alarm chimed into life. A swift hand knocked it across the room – if only I’d done more of that the night before. Alas, the ringing woke the house. I hauled myself up off the bed, found my feet and wobbled for the yard.

Times are hard when you’re envious of a Charolais heifer gulping from a water trough. With a throat like Ghandi’s flip-flop I coaxed the first beast up the chute for the scanner. Ten heifers had been on our breeding list.

First up was a stylish, black Limousin out of OZS and a milky Blonde x Holstein cow. My inner weighing scales put her close to 500kg. Five replacement stars; four great feet; quiet as a Liverpool fan and displaying good rear-width: if Carlsberg did maiden heifers...

But therein lay the problem.

“No, that one’s empty...”

Hmmm. I glanced across the pen at Dad whose facial expression resembled mine – synchronized frowning. Between my thumping head, sandpaper mouth and the empty heifer, the day hadn’t started fantastically.

She will head for the feedlot, with a view towards a pre-November finish. Well-bred cows, who’ve proven themselves, do get second chances here. On paper, our empty heifer was probably one of the best-bred maternal animals in the herd. But, she hadn’t proven that she would work for us. Sure, there are animals with similar genetics and multiple, successful lactations under their belts; but biology has funny old ways of throwing curveballs. Indeed, if it wasn’t for biological variation, every animal would potentially perform the same. Imagine; no trips down the country for farm-walks. Barrack Obama Plaza would crumble financially.

As heifer number two pottered up the crush, my heart joined my head in a chorus of thumping. If this one was empty too we had a big problem.

“Annnnd....sheeeeeeee.....isssssss.........”

Thump, thump, thump.

“Yep... in-calf!

Phew.

“So, what happened to yee last night? The wireless had yas nine-up with 20 to play!”

Too soon.