It’s been a year since husband Bruce and I retired from raising beef to sell at our New Hampshire farm, but we still have a small herd of 18 cattle. I’m not retiring from farming, I’ve just changed how we farm. We’ve given up the heartbreak of raising beef cattle for sale. I still eat meat and process cattle from our herd, but only when I have to.
My retirement focus is training oxen teams and mentoring the Vineyard 4-H Katama Cowpokes. Once a week, I take a four-hour bus ride from Concord, N.H. (with a transfer in Boston) to Woods Hole, jump on a ferry, then take the No. 10 bus to the Tisbury Park and Ride to collect my 2011 F150 “Island truck.”
I stay in a friend’s guest room and return to New Hampshire the next day after working with the Cowpokes. I mix cows with writing, and during each visit I also attend a John Hough Jr. writers’ workshop. The Vineyard is a magical place for cattle and writers.
Bruce and I would like to live on the Vineyard and are trying to sell our farm to make the move. Of course, there is the additional problem of where to put our 18 cattle. So for now we’ll stay put in New Hampshire and commute to the Vineyard.
After the Grey Barn dairy closure, calves for sale were hard to find on the Vineyard, so last summer I bought seven calves from a New Hampshire dairy farm. Male calves are raised for beef but the seven bull calves I bought are not bound for the butcher block. They are being trained to work as teams in a yoke. In the past, cattle teams pulled plows and carts. Today, they pull sleds loaded with giggling children.
Three of the seven calves I bought now live on the Vineyard. One of them, Carl, joined Blind Brian, whom Julie Scott, executive director at Slough Farm, purchased from The Grey Barn just before they closed their dairy. Yokemates Brian and Carl, and an orphaned calf, live at Slough Farm. The other two calves live in Menemsha and are trained by Cowpokes Penny Athearn and Emme Carroll.
Raising cattle for slaughter doesn’t require that we get to know them. They eat hay in the winter, grass in the summer and get fat. Even so, all cattle have individual personalities. Some are friendly, some aren’t. It was heart-wrenching to send some of my cattle to slaughter, but that’s what kept my farm going.
Training cattle is much more personal. It requires earning the steer’s respect by radiating calm and giving consistent directions. It isn’t about domination, it’s about trust.
For example, Curious Bleu, who has attended the Vineyard Agricultural Fair, is a Scottish Highland steer with majestic horns that sweep to the sky. At 2,000 pounds, it would be impossible to use force on him. He’s reliable and consistent, and I trust him not impale me with his horns. He follows voice commands and walks calmly with me, more obedient than most dogs. If he didn’t, there’s no way I could control him with a puny lead rope.
My retirement job lets me do what I love: train cattle. I buy them and train the friendly ones to respect humans. Other people love cattle, so I sell these trained beasts as pets. Customers as far away as California and Florida have purchased my cattle. No, my special pet Curious Bleu is not for sale.
As working steers, the Vineyard calves can look forward to long lives as living-history re-enactors as they prepare to compete at the 2026 Agricultural Fair. Win or lose, it will be great fun for the 4-H Cowpokes to show off what they’ve learned.
So that’s my very nearly ideal retirement: commuting to the Vineyard and working with children who want to learn more about cattle. The one thing missing is a home on the Vineyard with a pasture for my cattle. But even with a weekly eight-hour, round-trip commute, my retirement is pretty darn good.
Carole Soule is co-owner of Miles Smith Farm.
This article appears in February 20, 2026.