I put him out with the herd but he just ate grass and wouldn’t even look at a cow. I was beginning to think I had paid more for that bull than he was worth. Anyway… I had the Vet come and take a look at him. He said the bull…

👇 Brilliant continuation in the first comment:

…might just be a bit low on certain minerals and suggested giving him some vitamins and a special supplement shot. Said sometimes even the best bulls get a little sluggish, especially if they’ve been stressed from transport or change in environment. I nodded, though inside, I wasn’t convinced. I mean, $6,500 for a bull that acted more like a lawnmower than a breeder? That’s a hard pill to swallow.

Still, I followed the vet’s instructions. We gave the bull—whom I’d started calling Nelson—his shot and started him on the supplement. The vet said to give it a few days. So, I waited. And waited. I even tried to sweet-talk Nelson while feeding him, like that’d somehow convince him to get to work. But nope—he’d just chew, blink, and walk away from the cows like he was above it all.

A week passed, and nothing changed. I started joking with my buddy Travis that maybe Nelson was more interested in the bulls than the cows, if you catch my drift. Travis laughed, but behind that laugh was the same doubt I had—maybe I got a dud.

But then, one evening, something strange happened.

I was out feeding just before dusk, walking the fence line with my dog, Scout, when I noticed something. One of the cows—Mary Lou, a sweet old girl who usually kept to herself—was following Nelson a little too closely. He didn’t seem bothered. In fact, he stopped grazing and let her nuzzle his side. I squinted and stood there for a minute, not wanting to spook them.

Sure enough, the next morning, I saw him with another cow. And another later that day.

Long story short, Nelson had just been playing it cool. Too cool for school, apparently.

Within two weeks, he was making his rounds like a gentleman farmer at a Sunday social. The vet said the supplements must’ve kicked in, and maybe Nelson just needed to feel a bit more settled before he got into the groove of things. Whatever it was, he was now earning his keep.

But just as I was breathing a sigh of relief, thinking everything was finally smooth sailing—life threw me a curveball.

About a month later, Nelson started limping. Not bad, but enough to notice. I kept a close eye on it. Maybe he stepped on a rock or had a little sprain. But by day three, the limp got worse. And by day five, he was lying down more than he was up.

I called the vet again. This time, it was more serious.

Turned out, Nelson had a hoof abscess. If untreated, it could’ve gone bad fast—dangerously so. The vet treated it, drained it, bandaged him up, and gave me a schedule for care. But what stuck with me was what the vet said as he packed up his bag: “You did good noticing the limp early. A lot of folks ignore the little things until it’s too late.”

I nodded. That line stuck with me long after he drove off.

Over the next week, I cared for Nelson like he was one of my own kids. Cleaned the hoof. Changed the wrap. Gave him his meds on schedule. He’d look at me sometimes like, You again? but I could tell he appreciated it in his own bull kind of way.

Eventually, Nelson healed up. Not only that, but by the end of the season, he had done his job well—nearly every cow on the pasture was confirmed bred.

Funny how things turn out.

I went from thinking I’d flushed $6,500 down the drain to watching that very investment bring a new generation to the ranch. And all because I stuck with it. Because I didn’t give up when things looked disappointing at first. And because I paid attention to the little signs when they came.

Here’s what I learned through all of this:

Sometimes, what looks like failure at first is really just a slow start. Or a test of patience. Or maybe it’s life asking you, How much do you believe in what you chose?

Nelson didn’t come out of the trailer doing cartwheels and high-fives. He didn’t impress right off the bat. But he turned out to be exactly what this ranch needed.

And maybe that’s a lesson for more than just ranching.

Maybe it’s about marriage, or that new job, or that dream you keep dragging your feet on. Just because it isn’t flashy from the start doesn’t mean it’s not going to grow into something great.

You’ve got to give things time. You’ve got to nurture them. You’ve got to care enough to notice the limp before it gets worse.

And sometimes, you’ve got to be willing to stick around long enough to see the reward bloom.

So yeah… I paid $6,500 for a bull that didn’t do squat for two weeks.
And today, I’d do it again.

Because behind every good season is a story that almost made you give up. But you didn’t.

If you’ve ever taken a chance on something—or someone—that didn’t shine right away but ended up surprising you… hit that like button.
And share this story with someone who needs a reminder:
Good things take time.

🟢🐂❤️ #FarmLife #LessonsFromThePasture #NeverGiveUp #PatiencePaysOff