I neglected to take a photo of the steer we had on the farm for several weeks this spring. He was ~600 pounds of attitude who was reported to be "semi-halter broke". He was about a year old and the last of a local small herd dispersal, and his price tag was less than a dollar a pound. He was Angus / Shorthorn/ Gelbvieh. He was black with a white jaw that the gal who delivered him said made him look just like the Joker. I should have known then what I was in for as she left wishing me luck with this one.
My experience with Bovine is limited. Betsy aka Holy Cow, who I planned to keep as a pet to produce edible offspring--but who kept producing salable heifers, her daughter Ghirardelli, her next daughter Gracie who I didn't get a picture of and who I traded for a bull calf named Echo who died unexpectedly--thus ending my first raising beef experience. Anyway Betsy had been out to pasture for several years and didn't really like the idea of being contained and handled again at first. But after a week of being tied and groomed she loved the attention. I assumed the new young man would respond the same. I assumed wrong.
The one time I managed to get a halter on him and tie him off to a sturdy barn beam while he was eye deep in a bucket of sweet feed he managed to break the halter during his frantic struggle which began as soon as he realized there was something fastened on his head--sweet feed went flying and so did I. I repeated the process of distracting him with the feed the next day and got myself tossed around again before the new halter even touched his ears. I tried this each day for a week with the same outcome, he actually was getting violent earlier on with each attempt. I was going to get seriously hurt if I continued so I found a cattleman to talk to.
I was told that if the steer was coming out of a bucket of feed and coming over the bucket of feed to get to me (rather than just bumping me on his way out-of-Dodge) he was mean and likely fixin' to get meaner. I'd best leave him be for 4 weeks in the stall while graining him up good and then ship him for processing. So that is what we did. I had to give up mucking out the stall as he lost fear of my presence even with a manure fork. I had to just add shavings twice a day over the wall while he was eating. My husband likes to tell how you could smell the rubber burning when he pawed the stall mats at anyone's approach. I think he got even madder when someone called him a nice boy to try to win his affection--he wanted everyone to know he was a very bad bad bully boy! He dressed out at 495 pounds of some of the nicest beef I've ever tasted. Next year we are trying a longhorn.