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McCain
was introduced to beefalo production while in Tennessee for a convention
totally unrelated to cattle. A side trip took him to a farm where they
were being raised and he was hooked.
He
and his wife, Patsy, bought four beefalo heifers. One of the heifers was
expecting so the McCains wound up with a bonus. Their first bull—named
Barney—came from Georgia. The other bull, named Flash, arrived from
Arkansas. Needless to say, Barney and Flash are being kept in separate
pastures.
The
first offspring was named Ace and he brought $1,500 at market. He also
made the supreme sacrifice.
"A
friend said to me: ‘Hey, George, how did Ace taste?’" and I
said, "Just fine."
The
McCain operation is an extended family affair and George said Patsy has
gotten to know each beefalo so well she can tell which belongs to what.
They even have names for each one.
The
McCains have enough beefalos on their property to keep the grass in
check. The animals are primarily grass-fed and, in effect, serve as
lawnmowers with hoofs until they are ready to be shipped to market.
"Right
now there aren’t enough people in Alabama raising them to have much of
an impact on the beef industry," said George. "Those who raise
other breeds are happy with what they’ve got. But, beefalos are very
easy to handle and they prefer to eat grass. That can save a lot of
money."
Nationally-known
beefalo spokesman Larry Hacker of Arkansas remembered the day a neighbor
dropped by to take a look at his operation. He had heard what was going
on and wanted to see for himself.
"As
we looked over a group of heifers grazing nearby, he commented that they
were pretty good-looking animals, but he had really come to look at a
beefalo," said Hacker. "I explained that he was looking at a
selection of beefalo, ranging from about 18 percent to about 36 percent
bison.
That
didn’t seem to educate Hacker’s neighbor about the animal because he
then asked, "But, where is the hump? Where is the shaggy hair and
the uniform brown color? If it looks like a cow, eats like a cow, acts
like a cow and bawls like a cow, why bother with beefalo?"
That’s
a question many beefalo owners are asked by friends and neighbors who
drop by to look at the animals.
"We
just made a decision to do it," said McCain. "They’re really
not that hard to care for because they’re quite docile. A friend of
mine owns the Elba Stockyards so he comes up to get them and then sells
them. After that he just puts a check in our mailbox."
He
said he can get up to $600 for each beefalo and has had as many as 110
of them grazing in his pasture.
"They’re
hot items in the Midwest and quite a few in Tennessee, too," he
said. "I know we don’t have many in Alabama and I could be the
largest beefalo owner."
McCain
said some who raise beefalo have so few they aren’t members of any
organization. He said he’s proud to be a member of his group which is
headquartered in Kentucky.
One
expense virtually non-existent for beefalo owners is feed. They prefer
grazing and that’s why much of the grass on the McCain property never
gets too high.
Dale
Klenke, Lebanon, TN, said he found beefalo easy to work with, they
forage better and require little grain feeding before slaughter.
American
Beefalo International said "legitimate concerns" over
excessive dietary fat and cholesterol have combined to reduce beef
consumption among many who love a thick, juicy steak.
The
leaner beefalo produces meat requiring less cooking time. Less fat in
the meat also means less grease.
Those
seeking to increase the number of beefalo herds in the U.S. no doubt
must feel they’re swimming upstream because habits are hard to alter
at times.
McCain
said the more he talks about his beefalo project, the more people begin
to understand what they are.
"It’ll
take time," he said. "But, I think more people will eventually
start raising them. I know I’m very happy with mine."
Alvin
Benn is a freelance writer from Selma. |
