Owyhee Cow Drama, Part XVIII (or wherever we are in the ongoing saga)

Monday March 23 2020

It's rogue cow season. You know the time of year - when cows escape off their BLM grazing allotments because the grass is greener on the other side (and the fences probably aren't maintained in the best condition).

In the private pasture next to us, owned by B, 5 black cows and 1 brand new black baby had been hanging out for a week or so. The law is Fence 'Em Out here in Idaho, but these cows were 2 fences over from where they were supposed to be. The rancher had been called, but nobody was in a hurry to come get them. The cows were sure in no hurry to leave, because they had yummy native grasses to eat in a small protected oasis, and a convenient running crick in the drainage instead of having to walk miles for water.

So one afternoon, I heard a calf bawling, off in another direction, away from the pasture of rogue cows. His bawling went on, and on, as if in distress, so I went out there and discovered a new red calf, maybe 2 days old, lying in the brush, in no-cow's land between the private pasture and the allotment pasture up the hill on the flats.

I could see the rogue black cows and baby up in the far end of B's pasture. I hiked up the trails toward the closed gate on top leading to the allotment, looked everywhere, saw no mama cow that might've had a baby, saw no cow tracks on the trail, saw no downed or broken fences; so no cow had came through that way. So I sat on the ridge up there a while and watched the black cows in B's pastures to see if anybody was going to come back for this bawling baby. They all happened to be wandering downstream, towards the bawling calf, and they all came down to drink, close enough to all hear the unhappy calf.

One mama cow turned and look toward the bellerin' calf, and then she turned and walked back upstream to where the rest of her herd was. They could all hear him, but nobody responded. 

I kept thinking - where on earth did this calf come from? Did one of the black cows make her way out of B's pasture to have this red calf and then just abandon him? Did another rancher's cow from down-crick escape her pasture, come all the way up here, birth him at that spot, and then wander off to either sneak back home or die (I have never found a dead cow anywhere nearby). Did a cow have him up on the allotment, and he slipped through the fence and made his way downhill to that spot? Was he just a product of spontaneous combustion? Any explanation seemed just as plausible as the other. Perhaps he was related to the mysterious Baby Jesus Calf from a couple springs ago.

Hours later, the calf was still out there bellerin', and then I saw him stand up and start walking toward the mountains. Maybe he knew his mama was over that way, or else why would he head that direction, though I had seen no sign of her at all, dead or alive. 

At dusk I was going to hike up that way and see if I could see where he went and if he'd re-united with his mama, but as I walked into our back yard - THERE'S THE CALF IN OUR BACK YARD. 

I could not have been more surprised if i'd come face to face with a cougar sitting in the back yard looking at me! The calf just stood there and stared at me. I just stood, flabbergasted, and stared at the calf. Instead of walking all the way west to the mountains, he had, somewhere along the way, made almost a 180-degree turn, walked almost a mile back this way, crossed through 2 fences, wandered past our scary bone-yard-junk-yard, and wound his way into our human-smelling back yard. The clear expression on his face was - and I am not anthropomorphizing - I need help.

And so what could I do, but help him.

I jumped in my car and drove down to the neighbor rancher who has a bunch of cows on his place. He was home, and I told him what was up, and he said he pretty much has all his cows contained at his place; and all those rogue cows in B's pasture belong to another rancher. He gave me that rancher's number and I called and left a message, about all his escaped cows and the abandoned calf in our backyard. (I never heard from them.) Then I called Regina next door, and she called Cowboy Paul from the Joyce Ranch (whose cows also run on this allotment, though they usually stay miles away from our place), and at 8:30 PM, dark, he said, "I'll be right over to get it."

He was true to his word. He arrived at 9 PM, and with flashlights, we saw the calf was still lying down in the back yard at the same spot. He was so weak (and scour-y) that Paul was able to just grab him, didn't have to rope it. 

So Paul took it home to his milk cow. 

I named it Wilbur.

**UPDATE MARCH 29**
I talked to Paul, who said calf is doing well with its adoptive milk cow mama!
yay!

Mooooving Day

Wednesday March 1 2017

Sometimes Dudley does OK when it comes to moving cows and watching cowboys and cow dogs work. Other times, I think he's been watching too many shoot 'em up Westerns, and he thinks some old fashioned Good Guy Bad Guy Western Shoot Out Mayhem is going to break out and he won't know which way to duck.

We headed out onto the north flats today, just to see how many cows were out that way, and we didn't find too many, because cowboys were on their second day of moving the herds to the south flats. Dude was surprised, nay, startled mightily to see a cowboy on a horse out there when there's usually no other humans or horses in sight, ever.

We said our howdys and chatted on the nicer weather, while Dudley casually ogled the cow horse who rather totally ignored Dudley, drop dead handsome though he is.

The cowboy and his dogs rode on over a hill, and Dudley really wanted to follow, so we climbed the hill and watched a bit while that cowboy and another drove a small herd westward. We stayed back but followed a ways… until several cows shot off to the south, and a cowboy and several dogs peeled off to head them off, disappearing over another hill. 

That's when Dude starts to get very excited about the whole Giddyup Moooooove 'Em Out Ride 'Em Cowboy Move Along Little Dogies YeeHaw aspect of things. When he's close enough up to cows and calves to where he could bite them if he wanted, he's fine, but watching all these naughty running beasts trying to escape in all directions can set him off and turn him into a volcano ready to explode. (Same with an endurance ride sometimes, when he can see horses strung out long and far along a trail.)

We left off and turned back (mostly so I wouldn't make a fool of myself, getting bucked off and having to be gallantly rescued), and anyway Dudley got some good animated exercise into his walk home as he ruminated over the Wild West in which he lives.

We did see some sights today, besides working cowboys and working horses and working cow dogs.

We saw a calf with a busted knee. He stood up when we rode by the first time; on the return trip he just laid there and looked at us. He won't be going anywhere but down a coyote's gullet. (I did tell a cowboy, but how would he find it, or catch it.)

We watched a coyote, making a big circle around another newborn calf… with mama cow off grazing around a corner draw and unaware of impending disaster. Dudley and I chased the coyote off a ways, but none of our hollerin' brought mama back bellerin' in defensive mode, and the coyote just made a wide half circle.

We saw pretty fresh cow afterbirth splattered on the ground… no coyote or Ravens had discovered it yet.

And we saw the gorgeous Owyhee desert, with the still-snow-draped Owyhees for a backdrop. It's one of Dudley's favorite views.

Owyhee Outlaws

Wednesday June 24 2015

Call it the Pickett Crick Roost. The wily Owyhee Outlaw Bovines have been hiding out here for quite some time. Months, possibly, because it was a couple of months ago that Connie said she saw a few cows and calves up Pickett Crick. All the cows should be up near the mountains and a few drainages and several fences over by now.

I'd been up and down the canyon on horseback several times in the last month or two, and I never saw any cows. But just last week, Connie happened upon them in their hidey holes in Pickett Crick. "About 6 of them," she guessed.

We called the rancher, because it was too far for us to drive them onward, and we didn't know where they were supposed to be by now anyway. And they probably would have been a bit too wild for us.


Two of the rancher's boys arrived with a couple horses and dogs and a trailer; they'd herd the cows down to our place and into a round pen, then run them into the trailer.


It took a while for the boys to find and flush the cows and calves out of the crick, and to get them to agree to all head down the canyon. Turned out there were more like a dozen of them, with calves wilder'n snot, and some of the cows were a bit rank, too.


The boys and horses and dogs gently eased the cows down along fence lines toward the house and the round pen. A couple of wily calves tried to make a run for it, but the cow dogs took care of them. It was one of the cows that, when they got close, decided, nope, she was *not* going in that round pen, because she liked her Pickett Crick Roost just fine thankyouverymuch, and she busted loose and all hell with it, the herd scattering and stampeding back up-canyon.


Horses and dogs took off after them in a cloud of dust, and after some more wrangling (and setting up another panel that would angle the cows in the round pen gate), the boys and horses and dogs convinced the herd to squeeze into the round pen.


One cowboy rode back to fetch the trailer. He backed it up to the round pen, and got all but 4 calves on the trailer. It took 3 cowboys on foot, a couple of dogs, and a couple more fence panels to guide/squeeze those Owyhee Outlaw Calves into the trailer, and then off they headed to their new mountain hideout, to continue their wild and wily ways.

Today, The Cows Won

Sunday April 6 2014

We got this cow-moving thing down. (Maybe not the fence-fixin' so much, but definitely the cow-moving.)

A rancher's cows have taken up residence on our upper 200 acres (and Connie's 40 acres) this spring - and why wouldn't they? Abundant grass and water, a 'nursery' to have their babies and raise them in safety, while the BLM land they're supposed to be on is scanty with feed, and the water is a long way away.

We've fixed some fence (over and over - the barbed wire is very old and not cow-sharp, and therefore not much of a deterrent), but once a week or so, after the cows either hop the fence or bust through it (calves just slither right through), Connie saddles up Tiger, and I saddle up Dudley again (sometimes Steph joins us on the ATV), and we moooooove the cows back on up the 200 and out the gate back onto BLM land. Last time there was a bull in with them, and he obediently mooooooooved out with his harem.


We'd gotten good at it. I don't know if Dudley's done this before, or if he's instinctively just a smart cow horse (he's smart at everything else). Tiger's getting brave and smart on cows too, with all the mooing and hollering and "HYAH!"ing; and even the cows have been getting smart. Last time they obediently mooooved along steadily in single file, up the crick much of the way before they let us turn them up the hill, and moooooove them on out the gate.


Today was that time of the week again. We saddled up Dudley and Tiger again, and today Sarah and Krusty joined us to mooooooove 30-40 cows out again. It was Sarah's first cattle drive.

The cows and calves were harder to drive this time, as if they'd get bogged down in quicksand along the way. They'd mush up into a pile like a freeway traffic jam, then they'd split up and down and left and right, scatter back down in the crick, break away back up in the tall sagebrush.


Long about the time we finally got them pushed up 195 acres and turned toward the gate, we saw the problem. The bull did not want his harem to leave paradise this time.

We 3 cowgirls and cowhorses pushed the cows and calves on one side, while on the other side the bull was busy running the line pushing them back toward us. The cows didn't know who to be more worried about - 3 brave and strong cow horses and 3 hollerin' bawlin' cowgirls, or one big bull that was getting madder and madder at them.

We cowgirls perceived we were no match for a mad bull, and we sure didn't want to get him mad at us, too. And since we're some pretty smart cowgirls, we admitted when we were whooped.

So we gave up. The bull and cows stayed on the upper 200. We rode home.


The cows won this round. Might be time to quit pretending and call the Real Cowboys and Real Cowhorses and Real Cowdogs in on the job.

Fence 'Em Out

Saturday March 29 2014

Idaho is a state with "Open Range Laws", meaning livestock has the right of way. Cows wander in and scare your horses off and eat your hay? Too bad, you have to fence them out. Bull charges you out in the open? Too bad, he has the right of way. You hit a cow out on the highway? Too bad, you are liable and you get to pay for your car damage and reimburse the rancher. (We know to drive very carefully on the highways in the winters and springs here.)

The property owner has to fence unwanted livestock out. (Idaho Code apparently allows counties to create "herd districts" where the animal's owner is liable for any damage it causes, but I expect there aren't many herd districts in the state; and anyway, land previously used as open range can't become a herd district.)

There are plenty of twists and turns within this law (such as, what defines a "lawful fence"), but the basic law is, if you don't want the cows on your property, you have to maintain the fencing to keep them out.

We get the occasional cow or two or three every year up our canyon that we drive on out (although if it's a bull, we call the ranchers to come get their bulls! We don't mess with bulls), but this year, many, many cows can't resist our green grass and the delightful bubbling crick up the canyon. 

This winter, we're doing a lot of moving cows out, and we're doing a lot of fencing 'em out. Hammering the little U-nail-jobbers is good hand-eye coordination practice for some people (ahem), and besides, driving cows is excellent cross-training for the endurance horses, some of whom are afraid of cows. 

It's just part of life in the West!

Punching Cows

Saturday March 16 2013

Originally, a 'cowpuncher' referred to a man prodding or punching a walking steak (i.e. beef cow) with an iron-spiked pole up a chute into a railroad car bound for slaughter. Eventually, 'cowpuncher' came to mean cowboys in general, and cowpunching referred to the work cowboys do.

But I know now why they really call it Punching Cows.

When your horse wants the sloooooow moooooo-ving tired little calves to get along, he punches them in the butt. Sometimes he bites them in the butt to hurry them along.

Jose punched this little calf along the wash on our cattle drive today. More on this adventure soon!

[video here]


or link
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ek275B-hSWQ&feature=youtu.be

Owyhee Deputized

Wednesday February 6 2013

I am no cowgirl, and I hadn't planned on herding cattle today. I daresay it wasn't on Jose's calendar either. But when the 2 young heifers showed up in our back yard, and wouldn't take "SHOO!" for an answer, and Jose was standing right at the fence looking at them, I thought… 'what if?'

What if I just grabbed Jose and threw a saddle on him, and we tried herding the heifers down the road? Jose's helped move cattle out of our canyon with other horses, and he's plenty brave, but… moving cows by himself?

I grabbed Jose and threw a saddle on him, and we took aim on those heifers.

I figured they belonged up on the north rim with the other black cows turned out up there and roaming all the way up to the highway, but all I really planned to do was get them started down the road away from here, and if they turned into any of the neighbor's driveways, well… I'd say "Oops!" and Jose and I would turn around and come home, and the neighbors could Have a Cow (or two). So I admit up front we didn't start out with the best of intentions.

Along with Girlie the cow dog, who hasn't herded cows, but has some instinct for them, we  successfully pushed the 2 heifers out our driveway, and successfully turned them down the road to the right, instead of up the road to the left.


Jose was interested in the fact that the black cow butts kept a constant distance between us, no matter our speed. If we walked, they walked. If we started trotting, they started trotting.

When the heifers by-passed the first neighbor's driveway, and I didn't have to say, "oops!" and turn around, we kept pushing them on down the road. And the cows passed the next neighbor's driveway without turning into it and I didn't have to say "oops!" and turn around, and we kept pushing them on down the road.

An idea formed in my head. Another half mile down the road and back up a draw was a small gate (aka Carol's gate) that led on up that draw and eventually up onto the north flats - where the other cows were.

What if Jose and I could just take the cows up there and turn them back in with the herd, instead of just leaving them further down the road and someone else's problem?

When the cows came close to the next neighbor's driveway and started drifting in that direction, Jose and I drifted off the road a bit on the driveway side, successfully edging the cows away from the driveway. They continued on down the road.

Heck, we were getting the hang of this. At the next driveway, the cows started to turn into it, but Jose and I angled off the road into the driveway and pushed them back up onto the road, and on down it they continued.

Well now. Since we were so good at this, and were now obviously official deputized Owyhee Cowgirl, Cow Horse and Cow Dog, there was no question that we had to continue our mission and return the heifers to the proper grazing allotment. 

The trick would be the next turn in the road, which hair-pinned to the right. We needed the cows to go left, and walk up the draw a ways and hang out there a while, while we raced around them to open Carol's gate up ahead, and raced back around them before they decided to leave, and then push them on up the draw and through the little gate.

Well. Now that we were experts and all, it was too easy!

We skillfully turned them off the hairpin road to the left, and after pushing them partway up the draw we let them stop a minute;


then we cantered a wide circle around and ahead of them up to Carol's gate, propped it open, then cantered wide around to the back of the cows, and started pushing them on up the draw toward the gate.


Those obliging heifers walked right on through,


and Jose watched them out of sight as we closed the gate on them.


Of course, I'll always leave driving bulls to the real cowboys and cow horses, and I wouldn't try herding cows alone with just any of our horses, like, say, Mac the ex-cowhorse who is now afraid of cows.

And of course any 2-year-old ranch kid could do this on any half-broke ranch horse, but…

we were quite pleased with our excellent impromptu roundup!

Fluffy Comes to Dinner

Sunday December 16 2012 

I named him Fluffy. What choice did I have?

He came down from the mountains in the falling snow. Food is scarce up there. Water scarcer. I knew he was on his way when the horse herd flipped out, big snorts, heads popping up over the brush high in the air, 

running toward the guest,

then away, 

then in circles, 

then away again,

then circling the wagons.

He bulled his way through a fence onto our acres, then wandered down the road toward the house looking somewhat bewildered at the horses' reactions. He was, after all, 4-legged just like them.

He was a young bull, 2 or 3 years old, not too concerned by a human on foot getting closer and closer, so either he's wise beyond his young age, or he's decidedly unworldly and innocent yet.

I waved at him to follow me, and he did, on down the road to the house where I opened the electric white tape fence for him (so he wouldn't just walk right through it and bust it). He passed through the gate, which I closed behind him since the horse herd was now hot on his heels, 

and he made himself at home around the house: a drink in the crick, morsels of green grass on the horse pasture (he popped through the white tape fence to get on there), hors d'oeuvres of green hay leftover in the wheelbarrows, 

picnic on the back yard lawn. It was a haven for a young bull lost and alone in a snowstorm.

He was itchy, oh so terribly itchy, and found the rough bark of our cottonwood trees excellent for scratching that thick fluffy head and thick hide of his. He looked so vulnerable scratching his itches.

He tuned in to my frequent visits and conversations; he puzzled over the horses' strange reaction to his presence in their reserved pasture. Tex remained on permanent high alert during Fluffy's meanderings, 

and on one occasion when Fluffy wandered back into the horses' grass pasture, the rest of the herd took sudden interest in him (especially with a sturdy wooden fence separating them), particularly Mac the former cow horse who is now afraid of cows.

Eventually the horses got bored with Fluffy and they went back to eating their hay. At one point Austin the crippled dog thought he'd go out and have a conversation with Fluffy before I called him off and sent him back up on the porch.

Fluffy had a grand time meandering the Owyhee rancho, grazing here, scratching there, making himself at home. I tossed some hay out for him in the front pasture - and opened the gate so he could come and go, so he wouldn't bust the tape fencing. He may as well stay for dinner, if the local rancher doesn't make it out tonight to fetch him home.

And then I started to wonder when was the last time I've had steak for dinner. Now, where's my knife and fork?

Terror in Owyhee

Monday March 19 2012

Dark beasts in the night. Lumbering monsters in the day. Eerie bawling and squalling. Crashing. Moaning. Sinister smells.

Terrifying Creatures wander Owyhee at will, taking what they wish. No laws can control them, no fence can contain them.

And so it was that our horse herd was terrified by dangerous cows today. (Not that our horses don't see cows nearly every day of every winter, on one side of the canyon or the other.)

I'd driven the ATV up the canyon to fetch the herd. As often happens, the horses had drifted far up the canyon overnight. They usually come back in the morning on their own - but I discovered an invisible line drawn in the sand that they were afraid to cross: the Terrifying Cow barrier. Two cows and a calf (just a baby!) were in our canyon on our side of fence, between the horse herd and home, and no way were the horses crossing that line. They were trapped.

Where the sight of me on an ATV holding a bucket of grain and calling for them usually entices them to come, this time they had eyes only for the Terrifying Cows, who had started moving away from me and further up-canyon - toward the horse herd.

Tizzies ensued.

Like flocking birds (check out these spectacular links here and here!), the herd flitted this way and fluttered that way, one horse Perry (the mare who is oddly attracted to other animals) moving toward the Creatures out of curiosity, pulling the herd along, then Smokey dashing away in fright, pulling the herd that way, Perry circling and approaching the cows again, pulling the herd with her, Rhett spinning around and bolting in terror, swaying the herd his way - a ballet dance, back and forth, swirl, up and back, whirl, forward and back, twirl.

(Rhett's dislike of cows has been clearly documented.)

The three cows' (two cows and one calf!) inevitable path along the fence, to join up with mooing cows on the other side of the fence, drove the mighty, 11-strong horse herd to the far corner of the canyon, into a tight whirring ball of nerves. Should they bolt and run from the treacherous cows? Should they dare slip past them, towards freedom and home? Should they totally run away from the vicious cows, toward me across the river and toward safety? (Of course they didn't choose this option.)

The cows continued their march along the fence on past the tightly woven horse herd that they completely ignored, past a wired-shut gate where they can normally squeeze through. Former Rushcreek Ranch Cowhorse Mac split off from the herd (he's also sometimes afraid of cows - see Rhett's story link above) and bravely chased the baby cow, showing him who was really the boss, before dashing back to join the safety of the rolling Horse Ball. The horses swirled tightly around to face the danger of the retreating cow butts. The cows came to a wash, where they turned and went straight through the fence to join the other cows on the hill. (Imagined )Peril to the horses was over, but the fact that the cows had just apparated (check your Harry Potter dictionary) through a fence unharmed really agitated the horse herd. They whirled and ran, spun and froze, twirled and dashed back, froze, bolted again, danced like a flock of starlings in the sky.

I could not get their attention; I could not get them to come home. They remained glued to that spot close together for hours.

I never did get to ride today.

PEBSBACSCH and the Cow Stink Eye

Sunday March 14 2010

What do you do with a Pig-Eyed Barn-Sour Balky-Ass Chicken-Shit Cow-Horse who's afraid of cows?

You take him out into the cows, what else!

We might have had a relatively stress-less good workout ride today if I'd taken Mac up on the northwest flats, but after two days of scary gale-force winds, besieging cows, and only-the-herd-knows what kind of Monsters that freaked the herd out the last two days, I was, by golly, taking that former cow horse Mac southeast out into the cows.

I thought I'd trot him up the Training Wash, down Spring Ranch wash, and up Blond Cow wash. Good tiring physical workout.

Right.


Just getting this PEBSBACSCH off the home acres toward the fence where the cows patrolled was extremely challenging and irritating. He'd throw out his anchor. I'd spur him on. He'd leap forward then slam on the brakes. I'd spur him again. He'd plant his toes and dig in his heels. His little pig eyes bulged wide and white in terror, (no cows in sight)(NOTHING in sight, actually), and he huffed and puffed short quick little hard breaths like a woman in labor.

We finally made it up and over the Tevis trail (about a quarter mile!) and down into the Training wash, where, though there were no still sign of cows, the going was still lurchy. Mac was convinced something was going to attack him. Getting him moving forward up the wash was like driving a car with the parking brake on. Each foot reluctantly moved forward as if an invisible force was pulling it backwards. His body would sink down like a cat going into a defensive posture at - what!? Maybe he saw ghosts on this bright, clear, still, chilly day. Just because I can't see them doesn't mean he can't. For lack of scary cows popping out of bushes, he found certain tangles of sagebrush roots particularly paralyzing.


Okay, forget the physical training today. Sure, I might have been able to spur him along into a trot, but we'd have ping-ponged and braked and leaped and lunged our way along, and I probably wouldn't have stayed in the saddle for more than a hundred yards. And his brain would have been shot.

Change of plans. Instead, we'd do a mental workout today: braving the terrifying world out here (the one he'd handled just fine the last few rides). A 90 minute ride would turn into a 3 hour ride... but that's what we were going to do.

So, we walked. Jumping, spooking, flinching and balking forward... but we walked.

Monster attack cows appeared ahead. Mac slammed on the brakes, head up in the air, ears forward and twitching. They stared at each other. The cows looked away first, and turned to walk away. Well, then, the cows weren't so scary when they were moving away from us. We walked on. Mac stared down the other cows he met and scared some of them away.


The ex-cow horse was better by the time we reached the top of the Training Wash and rode down into Spring Ranch wash. By now only a few particularly scary sage brushes were assaulting him. He wasn't afraid of the cows anymore. All Mac had to do was give them the Stink Eye and they'd turn away. He even Stink-Eyed a mama and baby 50 yards away, and the calf turned and bolted away, bleating in fright, and mama ran after the baby.

We probably could have trotted on down this wash for more exercise, but since Mac was inflating with confidence, we just kept walking and Stink-Eyeing the cows.

By the time we got to Blond Cow Wash, Mac was throwing the Cow Stink Eye left and right, unafraid, sauntering along, striding out. We even trotted boldly and calmly all the way up Blond Cow, getting a good workout in after all.

This PEBSBACSCH can be exasperating at times - but I still like the bugger!

Branding Day

Saturday March 6 2010

A local Owyhee rancher had a branding day. Friends, relatives, neighbors, and neighboring cowboys showed up to help.


Watching the herd.


A sea of cows.


Getting the kinks out of the rope.


Separating the mamas.


Heating the fire for the branding irons.


Branding irons in the fire.


Git along little dogie


Git along I say.


Little dogie.


Spurs.


Comfort before.


Got the first one.


Ropes.


The adversary.


Got a hind leg.


Unceremoniously (and efficiently) hog tied and knelt on, branded, ear tagged, injected, wormed, castrated.


Hot branded.


Comfort after.


Next up.


This man was determined to be the header without a rope.




He got him!


Holding one.


Teamwork.


Dally.


Backhand.