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Moving with the measured, deliberate steps of a man who understood the language of these animals, the farmer approached the pair. He spoke in a low, rumbling baritone, a sound designed to cut through the high-pitched hysteria of the calf and reach the bull’s subconscious. He didn’t use a rope; he didn’t use a prod. He knew that the introduction of tools would only escalate the tension. Instead, he relied on the rapport he had built with the herd over years of stewardship. Every muscle in his body was coiled, ready to dodge a charge, but his expression remained a mask of practiced serenity.
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