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With the rugby world cup recently coming to an end, it seems entirely fitting to describe my Angus bullocks as the All Blacks.
Apart from the obvious similarities with the colour, these docile animals have proved difficult to beat (though not impossible), and it is hard not to admire many of their characteristics and traits.
I’m not sure if you could call either the New Zealand rugby team or my black cattle world beaters, but as far as I’m concerned, they have been highly successful.
After decades of buying coloured cattle, I deliberately went for bullocks that would qualify for one of the premium beef schemes.
There is no doubt that some (or maybe even most) of that bonus is given away when bidding for one of these animals, but sure we’ve been doing that forever anyway, and it felt a bit like the good old days of giving away the “punch money” on a clean-eared calf on the day of purchase.
The biggest attraction, however, was the possibility of not bringing nervous or flighty cattle on to the farm, and this is the single most successful part of the exercise. I know I have talked about the importance of temperament in previous articles, but I refuse to make any apologies for going on endlessly with this issue.
For farms like mine (with little help), a single wild animal can wreak havoc when it comes to handling or shifting cattle.
By contrast, these Angus steers were easy to work with to the extent that I have sold the first batch and have bought in more of the same.
When it comes to profitability, let’s just say they didn’t let me down (a farmer euphemism which covers everything from a financial disaster to a modest profit). Considering that I do not expect any form of beef fattening to leave a healthy net margin, I’m happy enough with the figures, and I really do think they left more money than the typical Charolais alternative from other years.
They were bought in early March and were sold in mid-August and late October. Meal feeding was minimal, with 1kg per day for a few weeks before turnout, and none fed at grass.
The furthest I can stretch my figures to put some sort of false shine on them is to tell you they rose in value by £230 between buying and selling.
I have no intention of dropping off kill charges, haulage, veterinary, rent, fertiliser, or any other inputs, because I’d much rather bathe in the warm glow of self-satisfaction, than stare at the true bottom line of negativity. It’s my party, and I can play any game I choose (and CAFRE’s benchmarking will probably expose my false optimism anyway).
Individual
I did try to work out individual performances for these 20 steers, but this proved very little. The most profitable animal (+£405) was bought for the same price per kilo as the least profitable (+£30), despite both grading well. One simply gained more than double the weight of the other.
Another animal had a moderate growth rate from buying to selling (0.8kg) yet rose in value by £393 because he was bought for 177p/kg.
However, just because some of them cost more than 220p/kg, there was little to connect this strong price with a consistent lack of profit.
With no coherent pattern, the only trend I could see would suggest that predicting which animals would gain more than 1kg per day is the best indicator of potential profit. But without any knowledge of the feeding regime on the previous farm, this is almost impossible.
We all want to buy “altering types” and would love to think that a fairly empty-looking store had been half starved, but it’s not as simple as that. Chances are he’s just not a great thriver, despite munching his way through about 4kg per day of meal.
The upshot of this excursion into Angus stores has resulted in the purchase of another lorry load to replace last season’s animals. I have gone for the same again, and I am delighted to say that docility and calmness seem to be the order of the day.
If I’m not going to make money with beef cattle, I can at least work with something that is a pleasure to handle.
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