My Day as a Cattle Farmer

Last weekend I finally gave in to my husband's requests.  I got up really early (okay, it was 8:30, but to me, that's early), dressed all three boys, loaded them up, stopped for breakfast and arrived at one of our pastures promptly at 10:00.  "Working cows" was on the agenda and I agreed to bring the boys and come watch.  

Sam takes his role as "cowboy" very serious and he insisted on dressing the part.  

And my baby, wearing his Daddy's first cowboy boots, was in heaven.  This boy has become obsessed with cows and if you want to test his temper, pick him up to leave the pasture before he's ready.

My middle son is not pictured because at this point he is chasing the lone peacock that resides at this pasture.   Chasing him and offering him the remains of his sausage biscuit.

The work begins.  This pasture houses longhorns who, I learned, are a real pain to deal with. The guys chase them into an enclosed area.  This involves a lot of yelling and running around with your arms up in the air.  Apparently the "holding up of the arms" is a requirement when rounding up cattle.  

In the fence they go.

Then all the men try desperately to keep them in and shut the gate.  Apparently lowering one's self into a "near crouching" position is also protocol.

Failing to close the gate in a timely manner results in an escape.  And slight panic from the cattle wranglers.  The "hands on top of the head" is body language for, "Oh, &@#%. Not the truck!  Not the truck!"

Hands up.  A little more yelling.  And back in they go.

And another escape.

Arms up again.  A little more yelling.

And in they go.  Again.

And finally, they are loaded onto a trailer.

Now it's time to wrangle up the babies.  No need to run around with your arms in the air.  Simply chase the sweet, little calf over close enough to Poppa so he can rope him.

Once he's been roped, someone grabs the calf and carries him over to the trailer.

And when you see your fellow cattle hand struggling to hold onto the kicking calf, show him your appreciation by laughing at him as he hangs for dear life.

Now it's time to head back out into the large pasture and catch the long horn who never made it into the enclosed area.

I followed the guys, camera in hand, while Will hung back at the barn with G-Ma.  Sam and Jack followed behind me and I turned to discover a frightening sight.  Jack had picked up a whip that some cattleman (Jody) left lying on the ground.  Oh, the things that could go wrong with Jack wielding a whip.  The possibilities are endless.

I warned him not to "dare swing that thing at anybody" and continued to follow the guys out into the large pasture.  By now, the longhorn and calf were on the other side of the field and the guys were nearly as far.  I walked out a little further but had no desire to chase a stubborn cow and calf around.  I stood still, watching five men chase a cow and small calf around and around the pasture.

Sam and Jack ran off to join G-Ma and Will.  I stood alone, watching the chase.  This is the final picture taken of the chase.

It is the last picture because as soon as I took it, that very large longhorn saw me.  And began to run in my direction. Very fast.  See the horns on that cow?  They are large.  Very large.

So there I stood.  Too far away to make a dash for the fence.

Too far away to be rescued by any of the five gentlemen that had failed to catch the large animal that was now sprinting in my direction.

Sprinting.  Right.  At.  Me.

Thoughts began to flash through my mind.  The first thing I thought...Lane Frost.  For those of you who don't know Lane Frost, he is the famous bull rider the movie 8 Seconds is about.  He was killed after being gored by a bull's horn.

My next thought...should I drop my camera?  And run as fast as I can?  And see if my softball skills are still in tact by sliding head first under the electric fence?   I yelled, "JOOOODDDDDYYYYY!"

"AHHHHHHHH!"

"JOOOOODDDDDYYYY!"

"Just stand still," he yelled back at me.

My next thought..."Sweet, Jesus.  Please don't let this cow trample me to death in front of my children.  They really love cows and actually want to be cattle farmers when they grow up.  And I'm pretty sure watching a long horn bulldoze their Mama may throw a kink in that dream."

And in that instant, that spotted hussy sprinted past me.  And I think I heard her snicker.  I never really liked longhorns.

I'm more of a Jersey or Hereford girl.  Needless to say, that experience secured longhorns a permanent spot on the bottom of my cattle totem pole.

We headed to another pasture so the guys could worm, tag and band a few calves. I was given the job of writing on the tags. I have to earn my keep as the Vice President of Receipt Filing and T-Shirt Ordering for Five J's Cattle Company.  Into the chute they go.  Wormer is put on their back.  The male calves were banded, which is cattle lingo for a vasectomy.

Except with cows, the things that are banded eventually "die" from lack of blood and fall off.  Onto the ground.  Where people walk.  Including my children.  Nice.

And lastly they are tagged. With very,very large tags. Five J's buys it's ear tags on the Mr. T aisle of Tractor supply.

My job is done.  And now I've been officially named the Vice President of Ear Tag Labeling.  I see a raise in my future.