#holstein cow news

[prettyprettypaci2]

Squire - Part 7 and Epilogue

👑 Start From the Beginning 👑

"M-mm-mmm. Mooooooooooo!"

Like a tumbler at the county fair, your stomach twists and contorts itself into improbable knots. You feel off-balance and take a step forward, only to feel the tug of the pink breastplate from your leather baby reins; Blackwood holds you fast while the Royal Interpreter looks on, unsmiling as she strokes a large white rabbit in her arms. You fear you're about to be sick all over the fine new silk dress Madame Matilda put on you this morning. Its stiff crêpe skirt flares out at your belly button, leaving your fresh white diaper on full display.

"My dear friend, what has become of you?!" You sob.

Unable to remain standing under your own power, you feel Blackwood mercifully give your baby reins some slack as you fall to your knees. Your smooth, shining legs straddle the puffy diaper that droops between them.

"Mooooooo! Moooooooooooooo!"

The blonde squire you once knew as Mouse presses against the wooden slats of this outdoor enclosure, their pale face painted with soft mud. Their erstwhile tiny body is subsumed by a heavy garment printed with a holstein pattern, which is padded to mimic the proportions of a dairy cow. You recoil in horror as a wet BLAAAAAART from Mouse's rear end is followed by an expansion of the padding below their stomach, adding even more weight to your former companion's bovine form. Their whole costume is a single, colossal diaper! It pads them from the rattling cowbell around their neck to the tips of their hoof-clad toes!

Mouse's eyes are vacant and without emotion as they stare stupidly in your direction, though their pupils dilate the moment your gazes meet. For a moment, they are still. Then, with a soft whimper, they turn away from you and saunter off on all fours, their cowbell announcing every lumbering movement as they drag themselves slowly to a feeding trough on the far side of the pen. They continue to fart noisily, adding ever more girth to the full-body diaper encasing them.

You shudder as you tear your eyes away from the miserable scene, seeking comfort in the sight of your own comparatively small diaper. You realize you're instinctively trying to piss, though you must have already wet yourself; the thick padding has become dark and yellow.

"Is this to be my fate as well?" You croak. Your mouth has gone drier than sand, though tears drip from your eyes.

"The squire will not speak without being spoken to!" Blackwood barks, his sallow face contorting in rage. "The squire does not question what royalty wishes for it! The squire is an object, a brainless toy, a -- "

"You are dismissed, minister." The Royal Interpreter's silky alto voice leaves Blackwood struck dumb. "Remove the squire's reins and tend to other matters. Her Majesty will have words alone with it."

"B-but, Your Highness!" Blackwood stammers, his mouth agape. "You cannot be left alone with this squire. It is stubborn and headstrong, and it has now seen Your Majesty's Dairy! I have it on firm suspicion that it attempted to escape the Squirey by aid of that treasonous cow!"

"Blackwood! We suffer no more challenges from the Minister of Our Holdings than we do from our squires! You have been given a command."

The color seems to drain from Blackwood's face. Despite your disgust and awe at Mouse's pathetic state, you cannot help but feel satisfaction as he is dressed down by this slender woman half his age. With rough hands, Blackwood pulls you back onto your velvet heels, unfastens the reins around your torso, and frees you from captivity. With an awkward tap of his thin black rod on the soft ground, he departs for the stables, walking stiffly.

A soft breeze catches your extremely short crêpe skirt, and you shiver from your relative lack of clothing in the autumn air. You're unsure what to do now that you're alone with the Royal Interpreter and her rabbit -- one of the hundreds you had found beneath the hollow of the tree during the Hunt.

After that day, you had spent a week confined to some dusty tower where not even Pig could manage to visit you. The only interruption to your isolation came when a handmaiden would enter to feed you gruel and change your soiled diaper. You could sense the gravity of what you had discovered in the woods, but did not fully understand what it meant...or how much danger you were in for having seen it.

The Royal Interpreter examines your face as Mouse lows softly a short distance away. You grasp at your skirts and perform a quick curtsy, but are too terrified to add the customary giggle. At last, the young woman speaks:

"You were the heir to the Duchy of Berceau."

It doesn't appear to be a question, and you're unsure how to react. It was a title you had not heard in so long...for over a year, you have simply been 'squire' or 'it.' You lower your chin in the gentlest nod.

The Royal Interpreter bends at the knees, letting the rabbit in her hands wriggle out of her grasp and hop a few paces away, where it grooms itself carelessly. She then lifts the hem of her dress and steps over to a milking stool near Mouse's pen, easing herself down before patting her legs with both hands.

"Come. Sit on my lap."

You're breathing heavily. A few moments ago, you had imagined you were about to be imprisoned in an enormous diaper and tossed into the pen with mindless, mooing Mouse, living out the rest of your miserable days as Her Majesty's milk cow. With Blackwood dismissed and the so-called "Queen" paying no heed, you're now entirely unsure what this is all about. With another curtsy, you approach the Royal Interpreter and allow your diaper to squish against her knee, which she begins to bounce as she wraps a firm hand around your back. Deprived of Pig's companionship for more than a week, you can't help but gasp and feel excited as the mushy padding massages you down below.

"Once upon a time," the young woman says, keeping up the rhythm of her bouncing. "There was a beautiful princess who was the jewel of the land. Everyone from the highest noble to the lowliest commoner was smitten with her charms. Her mother hoped she would grow to become a powerful and fearsome Queen, but the princess had a secret."

The Royal Interpreter brushes a lock of hair from your eyes before sliding one of her thumbs between your open lips. Paralyzed with confusion, you simply suckle and slurp on the young woman's hand as she goes on with her tale.

"The princess could not keep her bed dry. Throughout her life, a laundress came each morning to collect the wet linens and replace them with new, before any of the servants could see. The laundress had a daughter, in whom the princess often confided. They would sneak off into the woods and find places to hide, where the two of them could talk and play make-believe all day."

Your cheeks bulge around the young woman's thumb as you continue to suckle. A clattering of bells behind you announces that Mouse has clambered back. Drool drips from their mouth as they eye you curiously.

"The princess and her friend loved the woods, where they would imagine themselves as all manner of animals. One day, while hunting, the Queen discovered the princess pretending to be a rabbit. All the lords and ladies saw this woman of majority hopping about, eating scraps from the ground, and wetting the diapers the laundress' daughter had swaddled her in. The Queen was furious! She swore an actual rabbit would sit on the throne before she ever let the princess lead her kingdom, insane as she must have been."

The young woman begins bouncing you faster as Mouse moos plaintively, and you thrust your hips in unison, aching for relief.

"When the Queen died unexpectedly, the disinherited princess simply vanished. It was just as well, for that last promise made in a moment of anger was enforcable by law: a rabbit was crowned in her stead. The kingdom descended into chaos, until the laundress' daughter stepped forward. She could speak to the rabbit...and tell the ministers and councilors and bishops and generals everything they wanted to hear. They were so desperate for a leader, they allowed themselves to believe it was true."

"There were advantages to this strange zoocracy," she goes on. "When illness or old age or a clever assassin got the better of Her Majesty, another rabbit was always in waiting. The laundress' daughter kept hundreds in the woods, along with her favorite pet of all."

You inhale sharply and mumble around the thumb in your mouth. "Duh pwincess."

"Yes, the 'pwincess,'" the Royal Interpreter nods, stone-faced despite her amusement. "The princess who was unfit to rule, for she desired nothing more than to live as a diapered pet, and to toy with other diapered pets like her. But the laundress' daughter sought her advice on every detail of governing. And together, they hatched a scheme where Her Majesty would train squires to entertain and serve at court. Diapered squires who barked and giggled and made fools of themselves, just as the princess had made a fool of herself...all so she could at last return home."

"But even the princess needed to be broken."

You hear the familiar voice interrupt the story, and a soft hand press into the front of your diaper from behind. You moan and squirm as Pig, who had approached from outside your view, kneads your padding gently. The Royal Interpreter continues to bounce her knee and stroke your slurping tongue with her thumb.

"The princess had begun having second thoughts," the Royal Interpreter goes on. "The laundress' daughter was terrified of losing her friend again. But she had power now -- perhaps more than anyone had ever had. She would train her lovely squire to love this new life, just as she would all of her squires thereafter."

"Or, out of jealous love," Pig says -- you feel their lips brush against your ear as they grab your head and twist it to face Mouse, who moos and floods their massive diaper with yet more sludge -- "She would turn her into this."

You scream, not from terror, but from ecstasy. The bouncing of the young woman's knee, the manipulations of Pig's hand, the thumb in your mouth and the sight of Mouse's humiliation forge a cacophony of sensations that send you spinning over the edge. Your hips buckle and shake as you search out every last drop of pleasure within the thick diaper that has become your most beloved companion. You fall back against Pig and continue to suckle the thumb, bathing in the glow of your dissipating excitement.

For the first time ever, you see the Royal Interpreter smile. It is soft, and cruel, and beautiful.

"The end."

👑 👑 👑

You are reminded of your first day at court as your heels clack against the marble: all the eyes of the lords and ladies burning into your skin as you danced and sang and showed off your diapers like a giggling fool. You suppose it was not so different from how today will transpire. Some lecherous lord is sure to pick you up and slap your diapered bottom. You will certainly laugh and curtsy as you're ordered to crawl on your knees, to eat something off the floor, or to climb into a lap and fill up your padding.

But today it will feel different. Because today you will have a name.

The Royal Interpreter sits on her throne, stroking some rabbit or another who has been chosen to play the Queen. There is no flicker of recognition in her face; no betrayal of your chance meeting in the hollow or of the story she told you at the Dairy. In a way, you are as terrified of this woman as you ever were. Because now you know the fate that will befall you if you ever dare to cross her.

Pig's glittering pink hair catches your eye as you stoop into a curtsy before the Queen. They smile mysteriously, having found the perfect spot to witness your naming.

A nervous dribble fills your diaper, and you giggle genuinely. Never have you been so proud to be so humiliated.

The Royal Interpreter lifts the rabbit to her ear to make a show of listening intently. Your stomach churns as she sets the creature down in her lap, knowing your moment has finally come.

"Little Sparrow."

The words are non-chalant, almost bored. But it doesn't matter. Tears of joy roll down your cheeks and you fall to your knees, overwhelmed with excitement. You see Pig lick their lips, perhaps imagining how they intend to celebrate with you when the evening comes to an end.

You are a squire. At last, a proper squire!

And you will be a squire forever.

A Story by Paci

Thank you for reading.

#ab dl diaper #ab dl lifestyle #ab dl mommy #diaper pee #diaper sissy #diaper training #diaper gal #diapered247 #ab dl girl #huc0w

[draqo-pctter]

everywhere but on // a dramione drabble

words: 705 / tags: post-breakup, haunted by memories, hea

After graduation, Draco took off for France with a duffel bag and a plan: to forget Hermione Granger and the love they might have had if either of them were brave enough to reach for it. He settled himself into a small flat in downtown Paris and took a job at the French Ministry filing court paperwork and analyzing trial data.

The work was mindless – he finished his tasks by lunch each day, and spent his afternoons flirting with the curly haired receptionist who reminded him so much of the girl he’d left behind. When he took her home after a work party and woke up with her still in his bed, his first thought was that Hermione’s skin had been softer. Her curls were bouncier, and she would never have put her clothes back on to sleep.

After that, he moved to Spain, finding himself a small cottage an hour outside of Barcelona. Draco filled his days with walks in the countryside and journeys into the city, drinking Spanish wine and eating himself silly. After six months, he’d become familiar enough with a waitress at his favorite restaurant for her to ask what brought him there. Memories of Hermione’s dream of visiting the city chased him west toward Portugal.

From Portugal, Draco went to Italy for several weeks before heading to Greece. He found himself on the Mediterranean coast in a white stone house with a small patio that overlooked the sea. Each morning started with a descent from his house down several kilometers of street to the beach, where Draco ran barefoot until he couldn’t feel anything except the burn of his lungs and the screaming in his legs. By the time he reached his house in the evenings with shaking limbs, he could hear Hermione’s voice telling him to stretch to keep the soreness in his muscles to a minimum.

A year later, Draco made his way back north to Germany. The mountains were the kind of quiet that his mind couldn’t stand, so he found himself in possession of a small herd of German Holsteins that forced him to work with his hands. Two years passed in which he became exceptionally skilled at maintaining their pastures and the barn, and he could milk a cow in thirty seconds flat if one ignored that he used magic to cheat. For a week, Draco thought he might be happy there.

But, he’d caught the attention of a neighboring farmer’s daughter. She spent hours watching him do his work and offering to help, slowing him down significantly since he couldn’t use magic in the presence of a Muggle he didn’t intend to marry. Draco gifted her father his entire herd and got on the first boat to America that he could find out of Hamburg.

New York City terrified him. Chicago was worse, and Philadelphia only warranted a week of his time. Kentucky would have been alright if the locals didn’t turn their noses up at his accent. On a whim, Draco found himself on a bus traveling from Louisville to Austin. Even from the bus depot, he could tell Texas wasn’t for him, so he continued on to Los Angeles.

In one year, Draco visited every state except for Alaska and Hawaii before heading north to Canada. He’d hardly stepped over the border when a billboard caught his attention: IF YOU COULD DO IT AGAIN, WHAT WOULD YOU DO DIFFERENTLY?

Airplanes were terrifying. How Muggles had decided it was safe to create metal tubes with wings and launch them into the sky, Draco didn’t understand. He kept a white-knuckle grip on the armrest for the entire flight, much to the flight attendant’s entertainment. She kept his plastic cup filled with whiskey, and he wondered what he would do if he saw her.

Seven hours later, Draco had his answer. As he stepped off the plane in Heathrow, he caught sight of those chocolate curls he’d never stopped dreaming about. A delicate hand tapped nervously on a luggage handle, and perfectly white teeth chewed away at a bottom lip he knew would be soft to the touch. In her free hand – a ticket to Canada, and a Ministry file with his name on it.

a/n; i blame venus rx ending & the song everywhere but on by matt stell for this drabble

#dramione #dramione drabble #dramione ff #dramione fanfic #dramione fanfiction #dhr #dhr ff #dhr fanfic #dhr fanfiction #dhr drabble #post breakup #hea #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #ohthedrarry ao3

[hyydraworks]

Hi Alexandra! FIRST OFF, thank you for finally dropping! I am obsessed with your work and had a notification set up just to catch this. I just bought Jersey, Hereford, and Holstein! I was wondering because my best friend LOVES sheep, have you ever considered maybe doing ceramic sheep in your style? I think it would be popular with your customers, and I would certainly buy one for her (and maybe a sheep friend for my new ceramic cow sons).

Hello! Thanks so much for kind words and for snagging a couple tiny moo friends this past update! I have done sheep a while ago and wasn’t in love with the design, but it’s been a hot second so will definitely see if I can’t give them a second try, thanks for the suggestion!

[fatehbaz]

In Arabic, generous people are referred to as people of the soil -- ahl al thra. The language has other references to soil as the mother of us all, but the most telling is zareea’, which means “plant” and “seed,” but is also the word for “children.” Hanan is one of the zareea’ whose life was cut short in April 2022.

Hanan, whose name means “tenderness” in Arabic, didn’t have a cell phone when I met her. She was barely eight years old. Wide-eyed and mischievous [...] she would often take my phone and snap pictures of flowers and people around the courtyard of her house in the village of Faqua. [...] Hanan was often my foraging guide [...]. From green almonds to wild thistle, her relationship to the land inspired me [...]. I could never have imagined that only ten years later I would share her photograph in an insufficient eulogy of her short life [...]. While claiming to have made the desert bloom, Israel [...] destroys their ecological systems -- one seed, one aquifer, and one human life at a time.

-------

I first met Hanan when I started visiting my colleague Mahmoud in his family’s village of Faqua. Hanan was Mahmoud’s daughter. Faqua sits atop a solitary hill in the heart of Marj Ibn Amer, the largest plain in Palestine, and is one of many Palestinian villages that has kept its indigenous and ecological features. [...] I met Hanan on the first day I visited Faqua. That spring morning, the rugged road up to the village was filled with cacti on both sides. It carved through green terraces sprinkled with wild red poppies and yellow and purple wildflowers. The vegetation was lush and gentle at the same time, as if testifying to the deeds of the birds and winds that scattered the seeds across breathtaking terrains. “Don’t be dazzled by the flowers,” said the driver, noticing my eyes glued to the window [...]. “Wait till you see Faqua’s wild mushrooms.”

Wild mushrooms? This guy must be exaggerating. But before I challenged his claims he asked, “Why do you think the village is called Fuqua?” I lowered my head and in a smirking apology said, “Of course, from faqua, Arabic for mushrooms.” Then he pointed to a fence running alongside a pine forest and explained, “All of this was for our foraging. We were famous for our mushrooms because we had an abundance of them, but in recent years an Israeli settler came and fenced us off from our lands and started a cow farm.”

After getting off at the center of the village, I walked closer to the fence and was startled by a herd of Holstein cows, with the black-and-white irregular maps drawn across their skins. They were as foreign to the landscape as the barbed wire, dividing the earth and declaring autonomy over what should never be owned: seed, soil, and people’s freedom to be part of the world of trees. [...]

-------

In over a decade working in seed conservation, I have come across many speeches, programs, projects, and publications declaring a commitment to the earth, to farmers, and to Indigenous knowledge. But what is this world we activists for the planet say we want to create? What is this new way of being with the land that we say we must reinvent? The truth is that we don’t have to invent that other world because it already exists. It may seem very remote because, at best, it’s portrayed as pastoral fiction, and at worst, it’s being destroyed. Yet we can find that world in villages like Faqua. We find it in young people like Hanan, who are seeds being murdered and discarded along with their communities. We find it in the wild mushrooms and the forests, which are being replaced by commercial cows subsidized by settler militias that are supported by US taxpayers. [...]

The same powers that claim to fight for food justice through US- and European-funded organizations are in fact contributing to the demise of our agro-biodiversity through their cultural and economic hegemony. They destroy our communities and then accuse us of being broken and underdeveloped, whether in Iraq, where war has destroyed the ancient marshes, in Mexico, where the government has sold the rivers, or even in places like Italy, where some farmers have been banned from farming for refusing to follow big-business standards. [...]

-------

The question of who gets to live from, and who must die for, our food is one that our movement can no longer deny. [...] There is no new green movement without the acknowledgment of the multitudes of genocides that are happening across the globe. From Palestine to Haiti, to Brazil, to India, and to the prairies of America that have been brutally contaminated and emptied of their peoples, our food embodies massive amounts of pain.

Hanan was someone I knew and loved, yet sadly she is not the only example of a young seedling defying the harsh world by choosing to love the poppies and wild mushrooms of her village. [...] Hanan was shot in the belly by an Israeli soldier as she was riding in a taxi back to her village, taking the same route I took more than ten years ago when I embarked on my seed journey and first visited her family in Faqua. She was also taking the same path of persevering -- the one many Palestinian farmers have taken, with little acknowledgement or support from a food movement that refuses to take a political stand yet insists on claiming social justice as a pillar of its sustainability goals.

-------

Text by: Vivien Sansour. “Hanan and the People of the Soil.” e-flux journal #128. June 2022.

[sim-ply-lilacs]

As soon as the wedding was over, Josef, Bea, and her mother left for the farm. There was no time to linger over the old cottage and all its sweet memories and bitter remorses, no time to brush fingers across the spot on the wall where Beatrice had spilled a bottle of ink as a child, or to kiss goodbye the trees she'd climbed as a girl. It was planting season, and she was a farmer's wife now. The farm must come first.

Except, Bea didn't yet feel like much of anybody's wife. Other than the addition of her new ring and the sight of her things in the bedroom and communal areas of the cabin, ever since she'd returned her borrowed wedding gown to Mrs. Landgraab, there wasn't much to signify that much beyond her location had changed. With the rush to resume planting, she had barely seen her husband save when they brushed up against each other while in the fields, or when he offered her a small smile at the well when they paused for a drink.

And yet, Bea knew Josef loved her. She knew it in that smile, she knew it in the way he took time to plant her a garden of herbs and flowers by the kitchen, she knew it when she saw the amused twitch of his mustache as he watched her coo over the baby chicks. They loved each other, the bustle of the farm just sometimes made it hard to show that.

Despite the hardships inherent in farm living, Bea loved their little patch of earth. The animals, especially. Bea had always loved animals, but hadn't had any since her last cat had died some months before her father grew ill. Oh, how she loved a warm, purring kitten—not that they had room for one on the farm. Farm animals were a different, but no less wonderful, source of joy. The chicks were an endless source of fluffy, fuzzy joy (and soon eggs) and the cows, with their large eyes and even temperaments, were sweet companions who didn't mind listening to her prattle on and who could be trusted to keep her secrets.

"I'll admit that farm life isn't necessarily what I thought it would be, Daisy," Bea chatted companionably with the Holstein cow Josef brought home the day he and Bea married, "but I do like many parts of it. I wasn't raised to be a farmer's wife, you see. I was supposed to be heading off to the University of Britechester this fall to get my B.A. in literature. There isn't much use for Chaucer or Dante on the farm, I'm afraid." At this, she laughed. "Unless of course you'd like to discuss Purgatorio or Boethius with me, Daisy dear."

"Sometimes, I confess, I'm still not sure how I ended up here after the life I planned for myself. Oh well, perhaps it is as our dear Mr. Tennyson said, 'Theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die." Oh dear, that's a bit morbid, isn't it? Maybe a bit of the good book then? 'Thou waterest the hills from thy upper rooms: the earth shall be filled with the fruit of thy works: bringing forth grass for cattle, and herb for the service of men. That thou mayst bring bread out of the earth and that wine may cheer the heart of man. That he may make the face cheerful with oil: and that bread may strengthen man's heart.'"

"Well, bread certainly strengthens my heart—even if I haven't exactly perfected how to make it yet—and wine does cheer the hearts of men, so let's pray for the grass for the cattle and herb for the service of men, and all shall be well, indeed!"

Later that evening, after dinner was (somewhat pitifully—Bea was new to cooking, to say the least) made and eaten, Bea took some time to herself to think over the day before joining Josef in their bedroom.

While it's true that she was settling nicely into life on the farm, and while she remained sure of Josef's affections, there was one area of her marriage that Bea found herself worrying about. Namely, the physical side of things.

Oh, she knew it wasn't proper for ladies to think about things, and she wasn't exactly dwelling on the topic, but she was concerned that Josef hadn't, er, broached the subject. She knew he'd been exhausted since the wedding from managing the planting from sunup to sundown, but what if it was more than that? What if...what if he loved her, but not in that way? His kisses were just as nice and frequent as they'd been during their brief engagement. More frequent, even. However, despite working the land together and sharing the same room, bed, and last name, he still acted as though they were courting. She half expected him to hold her hand in the parlor and then walk her home!

Bea arose sharply. Enough of this, she decided. There was only one thing to be done: no matter how she blushed or stammered, she must go and speak to her husband.

With that, she strode across the room, head held high, into the hallway, through the door to her room...

...only to find a still clothed Josef asleep on the bed.

With a weary little laugh, Bea plopped down on the chair next to the mirror. Well, it seems her little conversation was going to have to wait for another day. Bea sighed. Time to get ready for bed.

Prev ~ Next ~ Beginning

#decades challenge #moody legacy #simblr #sims 4 #decades challenge gen 1 #new simblr #sims 4 decades challenge

[monpalace]

who wants to read an 800 word word vomit on amoy's (lu oc) backstory?

You will.

cw .. forced prostitution

Amoy (no legal last name) has no family or place to call home.

She grew up in the streets of a town too small to be put on the map, often using thievery to steal what she needed before hiding away in the nearby woods.

To her shock and surprise, she's never been caught or recognized. The villagers would often brush it off as a rodent, or the like.

She was confident (not cocky!) in her abilities and knew how to pick the right person to steal from. She only ever stole what she needed (clothes, bread, and blankets— she's always been a vegetarian so no food)— but that didn't stop the villagers from calling the nearby witch.

It didn't take long for the witch to find and punish her.

A curse that both felt like and was a branding was what Amoy received. It was public and the entire town gathered, like an execution of sorts.

It took her months to heal back to full health— all of which she spent wandering since the villagers burnt down the woods during her branding.

The time between her wandering and finding another village to "settle down in," is blurry, but this one was significantly bigger than the one previous, but just as bad.

Amoy took longer than she would've liked to figure out a system that allowed her to avoid the hiccups that came with such a crime-infested city, but she got by well enough in the first months with the help of another young villager; Link.

They were in similar enough situations. Both in the same age and gender demographic, often picked on by the crueler villagers.

They became quick friends despite Amoy's initial hesitancy.

Conversations of Link joining the royal army and him taking Amoy with him were common when it was just the two of them huddled underneath a ratty blanket in the middle of the afternoon.

(They only ever functioned as people at night. Amoy would constantly tell him he needed a better sleep schedule if he wanted to get the benefits of a knight. Link always told her that he felt better being on the same schedule as her.)

The town only ever knew how to act orderly when the army came around to enlist more members.

Amoy prides herself in not showing emotion but, truthfully, she was rather emotional for the time that led up to Link's departure.

Life continued after he left, naturally. Amoy readjusted well enough to the change. She was alone before Link, she could relearn everything she did as a child.

It was an unlucky run, or one of the soldiers said something about a "suspension," as a joke, or something along those lines— but Amoy was eventually caught by a brothel owner.

Originally repaying her debts by acting as a janitor and assistant to everyone within the brothel, later turned into a sex worker (for regular clients) and escort (for the few political clients in the town) once the owners realized she'd pull in more money that way.

Even before her occupation was changed, Amoy had begun to be called "Betsy," among all the villagers due to her Holstein cow-like "spots."

(She also underwent surgery— unwillingly— to see just how much like a cow she was. That had lasting effects but I'm not about to get into that.)

Link visited the village when he could (which wasn't often), always bringing what he learned from the capital and what he felt she'd enjoy with him.

He'd bring clothes, books (he taught her how to read as he learned), and teach her how to use whatever weapons he'd managed to smuggle out.

He'd buy up her slots for the week with his new soldier money and they'd spend the time together locked in her room huddled together like when they were younger.

Once he caught onto her interest in magic, Link began to bring more books that contained the topic, assuming she'd turned to it to try and undo her curse.

Amoy found her calling in blood magic, and Link was a willing test subject.

Their schedule continues like this for the next several years with promises of him buying her out of her servitude.

Link does, eventually, save up enough money to release her and moves her into the castle since he so quickly moved up the ranks (the Hero of Legend, and all).

Though they were never officially, legally married, the two were engaged.

Because she had no last name to take or give, Link gave Amoy the last name Opal for the fairy charm he gave her as her engagement ring (and the color he preferred to see her in.)

(He had tried to give it to her before he bought her freedom but she turned it away in fear someone would steal it.)

(Her Link, like, dies.. and I haven't worked any of that out, but I do know that he dies in front of her, so pretend I dedicated five paragraphs to that.)

(😋)

#''i'm gonna mulan the shit out of link'' #her being vegetarian her whole life is actually really fucking funny when you consider she does blood magic #maj's descent

[evenaturtleduck]

My dad makes a new piece for my (and my sister and his sisters') nativity scene every year. It's my very favorite Christmas decoration. My aunt is angling for a cow but he refuses to give in because holsteins (her favorite breed) aren't biblical.

By the way, you can start a new hobby at any age.

#he's also made me a kaleidescope #it's fucking amazing

[serendipiadorm]

Serendipia Student Profile - Ignacio Luna

Theme song to listen to while reading ^^

Name: Ignacio Desta Luna

Nicknames: Dulce Toro (Damián),Iggy (Everyone Else)

Gender: Male

Age: 19

Species: Longhorn Bull Bestialhuman

Orientation: Gay(Not Out Yet)

Birthday: 7/14

Zodiac: Cancer

Height: 223cm/7'3"ft

Eye Color: Emerald Green

Hair Color: Burnt Orange

Homeland: Harveston

Dorm: Serendipia 

School Year: 3rd

Occupation: Ranch Hand

Club: Track & Field Club

Best Subject: Animal Linguistics & Science

Dominant Hand: Right

Favorite Food: Grilled Nopales

Least Favorite Food: Meat except some Fish

Dislikes: Unrulyness,Random Horn Pulls,Animal Mistreatment

Hobby: Life/Farming Simulation Gaming,Outdoor Activities,Tests of Strength,Admiring Damián

Talents: Livestock Care,Physical Strength,Track Running,Headbutting,Zoology Knowledge

Elemental Magic: Flora/Water

Unique Magic: Will be revealed in Dorm's Story

OC’s Lore Summary: Ranch bull boy from Harveston. Lover of animals,farming,and the outdoors. Was assigned the night shift of prep for the ranch so has adapted a nocturnal lifestyle. Abit clueless when it comes to talking to people but he is trying his best to be friendly. Gets along well with other animal lovers.

Personality: Abit serious but only if there's work to be done otherwise very chill. Has a competitive temper when it comes to strength or animal knowledge. Hides his romantic & flirty side due to family.

Fun Facts: Ignacio has a charm about him people say draws them to want to speak/hangout with him despite him being new to being a people person.

Family is a mix of two beautiful region cultures. He is bilingual and often lets out some ranch speak too.

He has to convince horses to let him ride them as most are super intimidated as they see him as an almost full bull. Some just give in immediately.

(Picrew)

He needs no tool or help to herd cows. They follow him his every move when he comes to let them out to go eat. They adore him. The bulls can be stubborn but he actually will accept one's challenge if need be. He loves the cattle the most.

Took a year for his family to convince him to go to NRC as he didn't want to but is the only one in the family to have a knack for magic. He was always embarrassed by the fact he could use magic since he more of a physical boi.

Everyone back home is so used to him they don't even  acknowledge the fact he has a bull lower half body & legs. People who aren't are so curious and ask him all sorts of questions.

He doesn't know if it is a joke or people are serious but he gets asked a lot if he is "Milkable" cause they think he is a cow even when his large horns are right in their sights and his big manly chest is out. He fears someone is going to use that as a pick up line toward him or try to milk him unfortunately.

He gets so competitive when it comes to strength or endurance. He is very fast for his size and can break boulders bare handed. He was asked a few times to transfer to Savanaclaw but he just is not a day person too much anymore he prefers nighttime and early mornings.

He admires Damián and his cat love so much since he can always have kitties around him as he works on classwork or just wants to vibe outside. He loves the cats so much since he loves animals.

He is a bit awkward at the dorm parties since he is not used to them and being a big weird legged boy but is opening up more at them each time he sees Damián just out there with everyone like nothing different.

Please don't rattle a cowbell near him. You may regret or fall in love with what happens..

Since he was feeling homesick a lot Damián went looking for a way to fix that and was told by Idia that maybe gaming could help since there's games where you're a farmer. Damián didn't quite understand but bought Ignacio one of these games and now he is so addicted to these games in his spare time. He often asks Damián to come see his farms or help him name newborn animals in the game.

Family

Parents

Mother - Sancha Luna - 58yrs old - Holstein Cow Bestialhuman

Father - Ignatius Luna - 60yrs old - Longhorn Bull beastman

Ignacio's hardworking parents. They've been working for numerous farms & ranches across the Shaftlands as they love outdoor jobs and met at a farm. Ignacio's mother shares his animal lower half thing with her having cow lower half & legs(no udders). They had him way into their mature age as they were too focused with working in their youth.

They come from two different cultures and had made it a tradition to teach Ignacio about both with books,going to events in home regions,letting him eat different foods from both,and teach him their native languages while raising him. Once he hit teenhood they told him he could now choose to like whatever he wanted from any modern stuff,etc just to remember he is special and loved. It helped shape the young man you see today.

His parents nowadays are just so sweet and are soon retiring from work. He would describe them at home as being traditional as their home has alot of the culture combination reflection and usually their conversations with each other or friends are about old days. Ignacio's room probably only place in house with modern things from outside what they have since they told him he could have that but keep it in his room.

He loves them so much and knows they are very chill to modern things like when they go out and stuff. He kinda wishes to talk to them about his orientation as he always got advice on things from them yet he is being the typical teen too afraid to ask. His mother has once mentioned randomly that instead of grandkids he can adopt cows. Maybe she knows? He unsure.

#serendipia #twisted wonderland fandorm #twst fandorm #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #oc profile #Ignacio

[ainews]

In a world where dairy cows are getting bigger and bigger, one farm in Australia is taking things to the extreme.

The farm, which is located in the town of Goulburn, New South Wales, is home to a herd of massive cows that weigh in at an impressive 1,400 pounds each.

The cows, which are of the Holstein-Friesian breed, were originally brought to the farm in the early 1990s. And, according to the farm's owner, they've been slowly but steadily getting bigger ever since.

The farm has become something of a tourist attraction, with people coming from all over to see the massive cows. And, according to the owner, the cows seem to enjoy the attention.

"They're very friendly animals," he said. "They love being patted and scratched."

So, if you're ever in Australia and you find yourself in the town of Goulburn, be sure to swing by the farm and say hello to the colossal cows.

#ai generated #fake news

[petnews2day]

We still don’t understand how one human apparently got bird flu from a cow

New Post has been published on https://petn.ws/y04Nu

We still don’t understand how one human apparently got bird flu from a cow

Enlarge / Holstein dairy cows in a freestall barn. The US Department of Agriculture this week posted an unpublished version of its genetic analysis into the spillover and spread of bird flu into US dairy cattle, offering the most complete look yet at the data state and federal investigators have amassed in the unexpected and […]

See full article at https://petn.ws/y04Nu #BirdNews

#Bird News

[twiainsurancegroup]

[externalconceit]

@positivelybeastly

'Don't do it, Hank,' Tess had told him in that irritating way she has when she thinks everyone else is wrong. 'She's a mysterious. Stay here.' And eventually, 'okay, well, I'll miss you when you die.'

However, 'Puttyfoot Farms' checks out: upstate New York, owned by little known billionaire Sharon St. Clare. Old money--the sort who keeps her wealth quiet until she appears at charity galas draped in Dior, antique diamonds winking in her ears. Or the front of the Daily Bugle for firing a harpoon gun at Ingrid Newkirk. She has the sort of money that allows for her to care for animals more than people, and for those who hear about her go 'oh, yeah, one of those'.

He's greeted by rolling hills and bright white fences, not to mention a handful of alpaca that stare at him, placid and unblinking. Oh, and goats. Pigs! Horses. Not to mention a--farmhand? Butler? If it's the former, he's the cleanest farmhand Hank's ever set eyes on, his buttondown shirt pristine and old fashioned spectacles sliding down his nose as he eyes the blue mutant up and down.

His eyes are pale and shrewd as those of a seasoned general. "Ma'am--" there's a faintly sardonic note to his voice--"is with the cows."

And Sharon St. Clare is indeed with the cows, singing a bright rendition of Sondheim's The Miller's Son. (Tess likes that soundtrack.) She's shoveling dirty hay and cow patties into a wheelbarrow, her hair woven into a coronet of blonde braids like a stereotypical farmer's daughter.

In fact, she's the very image of one of those cliche old illustrations, healthy and wholesome as she stops. A brilliant smile wreathes her face as she regards him, shoving the shovel into its big wheelbarrow of shit as a Holstein heifer with milky, blind eyes lows a complaint.

"Henry McCoy!" Sharon St. Clare sings out, as if they're the oldest of friends. "As I do live and breathe. Come say hello!"

She doesn't give him the chance, instead bounding toward him to clasp both his hands in two thick, dirty gloves. Her squeeze is firm--too firm. "How was your trip, darling? I do hate the subway this time of year--or did you drive?" Again, he's not allowed the chance to respond before she's half-turning to the cool, clinical man who 'escorted' him. "Gerard!" The Butler Farmhand. Gerard Butler. "See to the good doctor's car, won't you?"

Squeeze. "Henry, give him your keys. It wouldn't do to have you walk all that way back."

How did she know where he parked his car?

#long post cw #:shar I missed you:

[angelhearttreasures]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Aurora Springtime Rolly Pets Plush Stuffed Animal Set of 3 Cow Pig Bunny Rabbit.

[captious-solarian]

Deer of up North

There's lots of deer and I can't keep them straight, so here's a list of all deer species found in the subtemperate regions of the Northern hemisphere: Canada, northern Europe, Siberia. This list does not cover the many other deer species.

General deer facts

Deer are ruminants: even-toed ungulates that chew their cud. Yes, that means all true deer are kosher. They're all herbivorous (which means they'll eat meat only if they don't have to work hard for it). True deer are the family Cervidae, but some other species are called "deer" based on looks.

In almost all species, males grow and shed antlers once a year, and females lack antlers. Males also tend to be much larger than females.

Depending on species and region, a male deer is called a stag, buck, or bull; a female deer a doe, hind, or cow; a young deer a fawn or a calf. In French, the male is called the generic term for deer, un cerf; the female is une biche and the young un faon.

Deer are smaller than you expect, except moose, which are bigger. Most deer species have shoulder heights between 50 cm and 1 m. Deer on this list are on the larger side because they live in cold areas.

Most deer are polygynous, with one mating season (rut) per year. Males fight with their antlers over groups of females. Pregnancy is long, and most species have one fawn at a time.

There are 12 species of deer in the area I'm talking about. 11 are true deer, 1 is an impostor amogus.

Red deer (Cervus elaphus)

Stag red deer in a forest near Rochefort, Belgium. Photo by Luc Viatour, 2011.

Name in English: Red deer. Name in French: Usually just cerf since it's the default European deer. Cerf élaphe if you're pedantic. Lives in: Europe and Western Asia. Introduced in Australia, New Zealand, and South America. Shoulder height: 1–1.3 m. Red deer are very big as deer go.

This deer is common in Europe, and often hunted and portrayed in art. It's rather social and forms herds. It lives in woods, and migrates to higher altitudes in summer.

Wapiti (Cervus canadensis)

Bull wapiti in Jasper National Park, Alberta, Canada. Photo by Membeth, 2019.

Name in English: In Europe, wapiti. In North America, elk. Ambiguity warning: in Europe, elk usually means moose (Alces alces). Name in French: Exactly the same problem, with the cognate terms. In Europe, wapiti. In North America, élan. Ambiguity warning: in Europe, élan usually means moose (Alces alces). Lives in: North America and East Asia. Introduced to South America and New Zealand. Shoulder height: 0.8–1.5 m. They're even bigger than red deer on average.

The wapiti is closely related to the red deer, and occupies a similar niche. Their native ranges don't overlap, but they often hybridise where both species are introduced.

Sika deer (Cervus nippon)

Stag sika deer in Poland. Photo by Lilly M, 2007.

Name in English: Northern spotted deer, Japanese deer, sika deer. Name in French: Cerf sika. Lives in: East Asia, mainly Japan. Introduced to a whole bunch of countries, including Canada, the United States, Russia, and many European countries. Shoulder height: 0.5–1.1 m depending on sex and subspecies.

The sika deer remains spotted as an adult, whereas in most species, only fawns have spots. Its distribution is weird af: its native range is a big chunk of East Asia, but it's died out in most of it, except in Japan where it's breeding like crazy, and it has introduced breeding populations in random places. It's closely related to the red deer and they sometimes hybridise.

Fallow deer (Dama dama)

Buck fallow deer in a field in the German state of Schleswig-Holstein. Photo by Johann-Nikolaus Andreae, 2008.

Name in English: Usually simply fallow deer. European or common fallow deer to clarify. Name in French: Daim. To clarify, daim européen. Lives in: Native to Turkey. Introduced in most of Europe, North and South America, parts of Africa, Oceania. Shoulder height: About 85 cm.

Another deer that stays spotted as an adult, though there are many colour variants. It too has a weird distribution. Its antlers have a broad, flat shape.

Reeves's muntjac (Muntiacus reevesi)

Buck Reeves's muntjac in a garden in England. Photo by Nilfanion, 2010.

Name in English: Reeves's muntjac, Chinese muntjac, barking deer. Sometimes spelt muntjak. Name in French: Lots of different names, none of which are commonly used: muntjac de Reeves, muntjac de Chine, cerf aboyeur, cerf muntjac. Lives in: Native to Taiwan and southeastern China. Introduced in Europe and Japan. Shoulder height: About 50 cm.

There are many species of muntjacs, but only one has established breeding populations far enough north to make this list. All of them are small for deer and breed year-round instead of seasonally.

Bucks of all muntjac species have both tusks and antlers. The tusks are the main weapon; the antlers are short and mostly used to knock opponents out of balance and into tusk range. Fun fact: the ancestor of deer had tusks and no antlers, but true deer lost their tusks, and some lineages re-evolved them.

Roe deer (Capreolus capreolus)

Roebuck in Vaxholm, Sweden. Photo by Bengt Nyman, 2023.

Name in English: Roe or roe deer. If you're pedantic, European or western roe deer. Name in French: Chevreuil. If you're pedantic, chevreuil d'Europe. Ambiguity warning: in Canada, chevreuil can mean the whitetail (Odocoileus virginianus). Lives in: Europe and parts of western Asia. Shoulder height: About 65 cm.

Roe deer use forests for cover, but often venture into open areas to graze. Outside mating season, they're solitary and territorial. The doe usually has two fawns rather than one, typically a male and a female.

Siberian roe deer (Capreolus pygargus)

Siberian roebuck at the Daursky Nature Reserve in Zabaykalsky Krai, Russia. Photo by Andrey Giljov, 2016.

Name in English: Siberian, eastern, or Asian roe deer. Name in French: Chevreuil de Sibérie or chevreuil d'Asie. Lives in: Take a wild guess: Asia, mainly Siberia. Shoulder height: About 85 cm.

This species is extremely similar to the closely related western roe deer, except that it's taller and thinner, and its antlers are longer. It's named pygargus after its white rump, which the western roe deer also has, so idk man.

White-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus)

Buck whitetail in the United States. Photo by Scott Bauer, 2001.

Name in English: Whitetail, white-tailed deer, Virginia deer (it's not particularly Virginian but ok). Name in French: If you're being pedantic, cerf de Virginie. In Québec, sometimes chevreuil. Ambiguity warning: in Europe, chevreuil means the roe deer (Capreolus sp.). Lives in: North, Central, and parts of South America. Shoulder height: Varies hugely, 0.5–1.2 m depending on subspecies.

The default North American deer. Bambi from Bambi (1942) is a whitetail.

It mostly lives at the edge of forests, often near humans. When spooked, it raises its tail, showing the white underside. This alerts other deer to danger. Litter size varies, with one, two, or three fawns.

Mule deer (Odocoileus hemionus)

Buck mule deer in the US state of Oregon. Photo from the Oregon Department of Fish & Wildlife, 2010.

Name in English: Mule deer. Some subspecies are called black-tailed deer. Name in French: Not present in any French-speaking areas, but cerf hémione or cerf mulet. Lives in: Western half of North America. Shoulder height: 0.8–1 m

Named for its huge-ass ears. Litter size is usually two fawns, sometimes one. It's not very social and usually solitary, but can also form small groups. Infuriating fact: there's a subspecies called the Sitka deer after the city of Sitka (Alaska, USA), completely unrelated to the sika deer.

Reindeer (Rangifer tarandus)

Wild bull reindeer in Alaska. Note the remains of shedding velvet on the tip of one antler. (Or don't note it, I'm not a cop.) Photo by Dave Menke, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, 1995.

Name in English: Reindeer or caribou. Reindeer is more common in Europe, caribou in North America. Some people use reindeer for domestic subspecies and caribou for wild ones. Name in French: Renne or caribou, with roughly the same usage patterns. Lives in: Canada, Siberia, extreme north of Europe. Shoulder height: Varies hugely by subspecies, 0.8–1.5 m.

Reindeer live in large herds. Different subspecies migrate very long distances, short distances from mountain in summer to lowlands in winter, or not at all.

They have the biggest antlers of all deer, relative to body size. Females also have antlers, which they use to compete over food during pregnancy. They lose their antlers after calving, later in the year than males.

All societies around the north pole heavily herd or hunt reindeer, and often portray them in art and culture.

Moose (Alces alces)

Bull moose in Alaska. Photo by Paxson Woelber, 2014.

Name in English: In Europe, elk. In North America, moose. Ambiguity warning: in North America, elk usually means wapiti (Cervus canadensis). Name in French: Exactly the same problem. In Europe, élan. In North America, orignal (you are contractually obligated to make an orignal/original pun). Ambiguity warning: in North America, élan usually means wapiti (Cervus canadensis). Lives in: All around the north pole: Canada and small parts of the northern US, northern Europe, Siberia. Shoulder height: 1.5–2 m, by far the biggest deer.

Moose are good swimmers and browse for aquatic plants. Their oddly-shaped nose gives them an excellent sense of smell, and their long legs allow them to walk through snow easily. They're mostly solitary outside mating season. They usually have one calf, but twins are very common when food is plentiful.

Siberian musk deer (Moschus moschiferus) (not a deer)

Male Siberian musk deer at a zoo in Plzeň, Czechia. Photo by Николай Усик (Nicolai Usik), 2011.

Name in English: No really common name, just Siberian musk deer. Name in French: No really common name, just porte-musc de Sibérie. Lives in: Far east Asia: Korea, eastern Siberia, Mongolia, northeastern China. Shoulder height: About 50 cm.

Musk deer are not true deer; they're more closely related to cows. There are seven species, living mostly in South Asia. None have antlers or horns, and males of all species have tusks.

Siberian musk deer are solitary and territorial. They live in sloped taiga, are nocturnal, and mainly eat lichen. Females are larger than males, for once. Litter size varies, with one, two, or three young.

Males have a gland in their schlong that makes musk, a scented substance used in perfumes and traditional medicine. They are poached for their musk and musk glands, making the species vulnerable.

Family tree of all the guys above

Family tree of these 12 deer. Note that the "Old World" and "New World" names for the two subfamilies are kinda fake and gay: wapiti live in the New World; roe deer live in the Old World but are the poster child of the New World family; reindeer and moose live in both.

Other cool deer include the many deer of the Indian subcontinent, like the sambar (Rusa unicolor), and the small deer of South America, like the pudu (Pudu sp). Other cool non-deer include the tiny adorable mouse-deer (chevrotains, Tragulidae).

#taxonomy #effortpost #deer #Cervidae #Ruminantia #Artiodactyla #ungulate #mammal #Mammalia #this is largely a note to self #long post cw #very long post cw

[rnomics]

Metabolites, Vol. 13, Pages 1023: Liver and Muscle Transcriptomes Differ in Mid-Lactation Cows Divergent in Feed Efficiency in the Presence or Absence of Supplemental Rumen-Protected Choline

Improving dairy cow feed efficiency is critical to the sustainability and profitability of dairy production, yet the underlying mechanisms that contribute to individual cow variation in feed efficiency are not fully understood. The objectives of this study were to (1) identify genes and associated pathways that are altered in cows with high- or low-residual feed intake (RFI) using #RNA sequencing, and (2) determine if rumen-protected choline supplementation during mid-lactation would influence performance or feed efficiency. Mid-lactation (134 ± 20 days in milk) multiparous Holstein cows were randomly assigned to either supplementation of 0 g/d supplementation (CTL; n = 32) or 30 g/d of a rumen-protected choline product (RPC; 13.2 g choline ion; n = 32; Balchem Corp., New Hampton, NY, USA). Residual feed intake was determined as dry matter intake regressed on milk energy output, days in milk, body weight change, metabolic body weight, and dietary treatment. The 12 cows with the highest RFI (low feed efficient; LE) and 12 cows with the lowest RFI (high feed efficient; HE), balanced by dietary treatment, were selected for blood, liver, and muscle analysis. No differences in production or feed efficiency were detected with RPC supplementation, although albumin was greater and arachidonic acid tended to be greater in RPC cows. Concentrations of β-hydroxybutyrate were greater in HE cows. Between HE and LE, 268 and 315 differentially expressed genes in liver and muscle tissue, respectively, were identified through #RNA sequencing. Pathway analysis indicated differences in cell cycling, oxidative stress, and immunity in liver and differences in glucose and fatty acid pathways in muscle. The current work indicates that unique differences in liver and muscle post-absorptive nutrient metabolism contribute to sources of variation in feed efficiency and that differences in amino acid and fatty acid oxidation, cell cycling, and immune function should be further examined. https://www.mdpi.com/2218-1989/13/9/1023?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

[qocsuing]

Allflex Reports Ear Tags Are Back in Full Production Mode

Allflex Reports Ear Tags Are Back in Full Production Mode

Bottlenecks and hurdles have been a constant challenge producers have had to work around since the pandemic. Supply shortages, including the struggle of locating ear tags, might seem like a small problem, but the need for identification is essential and the backlog of ear tags has been an issue producers from coast to coast have had to try to work around.Get more news about Lf Rfid Ear Tags,you can vist our website!

California dairy producer Darlene Lopes felt this frustration. Lopes and her husband, Paul, along with their son, Tony, manage 4,000 Holstein cows, 2,500 head of Angus-Crossbred cattle and farm 2,100 acres in the Central Valley.

With hundreds of calves on milk, identification is a must for Lopes. Regardless of the size of the operation, identification is vital in tracking cattle performance and is used to make management decisions for all dairy farmers.

As Lopes waited on her Allflex tag order, her employees had to scour to find whatever they could to identify animals.

“We gave calves a temporary blank, different color tag, really whatever we could find,” she notes. “And of course, there’s some employee error when they’re writing the numbers down instead of the pre-printed ones.”

Lopes also ran out of RFID tags, which became a problem considering all their crossbred calves are custom raised at an offsite ranch that requires an RFID tag.

“The state veterinarian gave us 1,000 tags,” Lopes shares. “If he hadn’t done that, we would not have been able to comply with state rules.”

Once Lopes's tag order arrived, her staff had to go back and re-tag all the cattle.

“We purchase the sets that come with RFID that are already set to that particular [tag] number, so we had to delete all of those and assign them a new RFID number,” Lopes says. The cause of the initial delay in orders stems from the movement of the Allflex Identification business to the Merck ERP (SAP) in 2021. The Omicron variant surge earlier that year impacted both workforce availability and supply of raw materials, making this situation significantly worse.

“Merck Animal Health has invested in expanded manufacturing capacity to ensure a continued reliable supply of Allflex ear tags,” Paul Koffman, executive director of Livestock Technology Solutions, North America for Merck Animal Health, shares.

Koffman shares that they are pleased to report Allflex ear tags from Merck Animal Health are in full production and back up to pre-COVID production levels.