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!

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.

Must Love Cows

Wednesday May 27 2015

It's not a prerequisite that a horse living in the West in Cow Country must love cows, but it helps that they at least aren't scared of them.

It's not a prerequisite that someone riding horses in the West in Cow Country must be a cowgirl, but it helps that you can competently fake it when local ranchers need help moving cows.

We don't dress the part: our horses wear endurance saddles, biothane breast collars and bridles, Easyboot gloves and brushing boots, and we wear helmets. If we wear long leather chaps, we'll probably have tights on underneath them. The ranchers are used to our funny costumes; they tolerate us if we get the job done, and know when to stay out of the way.


We joined about 20 other cowboys and cowgirls on the Owyhee front, and split up to gather and move a hundred head or so of cattle toward their next higher pasture. Dudley can get a little worked up when moving cows - not so much at the cows but at the dozens of different things going on at the same time in all directions, like when a cow shoots out of the herd and a horse takes off galloping after to head her off - but he feigned being a fairly competent cow horse.


After we'd all gathered them up, and corralled them, and the Real Cowboys and Cowgirls went to work sorting, roping and branding, and we were standing out of the way watching and holding our horses, one little cowboy told Regina, "You don't have to wear your helmet."

"That's alright," she said. "I'm not a Real Cowboy."


We do know how to turn and gather cows and keep them moving - not to push to hard or not to let up too much; we know to give bulls - particularly fighting bulls - a wide berth and leave those to the real cowboys and cow horses.

We prefer good footing and good weather: we chose to help on the day that wouldn't be so rugged and rocky and hard, and we chose the day that wouldn't be so long, since afternoon thunderstorms are a regular occurrence right now, and I'm afraid of lightning. (And here's a good reason to be, which just happened this weekend, not all that far from here!: http://www.ktvb.com/story/news/local/2015/05/26/nampa-man-caught-in-memorial-day-storm-gets-struck-with-lightning/27980899/ )

As it was, we almost got overtaken by a thunderstorm as we rode the 5 miles home from the cow corrals, while the cowboys were still at work branding.

We sped home where the footing was good, ducking off the ridge for the last mile, giving us at least a sense of more comfort and safety,

while the blue-black cloud on top of the ridge boomed and crackled. Mufasa spooked a bit at the cracking thunder, but Dudley just trucked along.

see? we really made it home just in time!

I'm not a Real Cowgirl, and Dudley's not a Real Cow Horse, and he doesn't love cows, but we had a Good Cow Day, moving cows in a little corner of God's country, Owyhee County.

Rent-a-Cowpoke: The "C" Team

Sunday March 15 2015

A day after the historic Joyce Ranch roped and branded their calves with the skilled "A" team of Owyhee cowboys and cowgirls (post coming soon), it was the "C" team that helped move another rancher Don's cows out onto the range.

We weren't quite "F" students/riders; we definitely weren't the "A" team; but we were the solid "C" team (as in, the up-the-Crick team).

Don, plus 7 of us Crick people moved 50-60 head of cows with calves a couple of miles (most of it with a fence to help guide the cows on one side), across a highway, and into another pasture closer to the mountains. (And it was a southwest Idaho highway on a Sunday, with not too much traffic.) One horse and rider were first timers. One rider was a first timer on 25-year-old Krusty, who's been to France and Dubai, so he can do anything. I rode The Dude, who was much better behaved this time than last time.

There were no bucking fiascos, no lost calves, and no riders got lost: the "C" team did not fare too badly.

We were good enough that Don fed us lunch at the end.

Don, guiding his herd of somewhat rank angus cows (well, rank if they're squeezed in chutes for branding and vaccinations!)



Connie on Saruq, who would rather be off galloping somewhere. He's sneering here at the cows.



First-timer Abe on old-timer Krusty.


That's Rocky and half-Arab half-mustang Calvin on the left. Rocky's from up-the-Crick too, but he's from lower-upper, and he's more experienced than most of us cowpokes.


Threading the needle - squeezing the herd through the final gate.


Carol on August, Regina and Mufasa, and Don on his horse, surveying a job well done.

Rent-A-Cowgirl

Friday April 25 2014

Since we've been getting a lot of practice this spring mooooving cows off our upper acres, when the local Owyhee ranchers needed help gathering and driving their cows, we Rent-A-Cowgirls volunteered.

Connie sat astride her Grandson of the Black Stallion Finneas, and I rode tall (and wide) on The Dude. We joined 15-20 Real Cowboys and Cowgirls, riding out into the sagebrush and splitting up to gather a hundred or so head of cattle, pushing them together and driving them up to an awaiting corral for some branding and sorting before turning them loose in the next higher pasture.


Finneas spent much of the morning ignoring the cows but, more importantly, trying to win the ride, sweating and fretting and covering a lot of extra ground. The Dude spent his morning getting more fretful, as the cattle spread out in a half-mile mooing bawling long line, and as the calves shot back escaping behind the line and the cowboys took off at a gallop to retrieve them, and as Finneas occasionally disappeared over a hill out of sight to go let off some steam.


Once the cows bunched up at a fence corner and gate, and Dudley got to squeeze together with a line of cowhorses and move in close on the cows, that's when he found his comfort zone, being big and bold and bossy, throwing the Stink Eye at the cows and charging at them to get them moving onward. The bellowing cows and hollering cowboys and cowgirls and barking cow-leg-biting cowdogs didn't bother The Dude a bit, and he threw his own snorts in for good measure to scare them.


Once the herd was corralled, the ranch owners lit the fire and heated up the branding irons, the Real Cowboys and Cowgirls roped and branded the "slick" calves;



and after a cowboy lunch the fun began: sorting a dozen dry cows from the herd.


Wisely, Connie and I did not join the sorting. That was where the real cowboying came in, where you see those rodeo competition events really put into practice. It was fast and furious - it took a strong and imperturbable horse and rider to cut a mad cow out of a swirling bawling herd, and a coordinated effort from several other riders to keep that cow moving to the other end of the corral. "You can't outrun a cow," one of the cowboys said - but that didn't stop them from trying. The skill of the cutting horse facing a dancing cow was apparent. One particularly cantankerous cow took 8 cowboys and cowhorses, driving her, literally leaning on her and shoving her along, doubling back to chase her down when she slipped back through holes in the line, a neck rope to pull and a butt rope to shove - and 10 minutes to finally get her across the corral into an adjoining pen.

Those riders and horses knew what they were doing. It was clear from the beginning that we Rent-A-Cowgirls and  our Quasi-Cowhorses would have been way out of our league, in the way, getting dumped or run over. We were happy to watch from the sidelines in awe.

So if you're an Owyhee rancher that needs an extra Cowgirl or two for the day, we're rent-able. We probably won't disgrace ourselves (i.e. we probably won't fall off or get lost), and we might help moooove some cows, and we know when to stay out of the way and admire the professionals doing their thing.

Here are a couple of short videos from the day:
Gathering cows

[link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hZY1oQgkAGI&feature=youtu.be]

Pushing cows

[link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tet6mkX7rtg&feature=youtu.be]

Waiting on cows to filter into the corral

[link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_q_Pr9cacUo&feature=youtu.be]

Sorting cows

[the white face, white-legged horse is a mustang, an awesome cowhorse]
[link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FRdTqBp3YxI&feature=youtu.be]

Sorting cows



[link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q_jN_D-PGbg&feature=youtu.be]

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.