OPINION? Everybody Has One!!

— I went back and counted the cows again. Came up one long twice. They were milling around so much that I figured I was counting one twice but I could be feeding more than I thought. I made a trip to the barn for a sack of feed to scatter in a long line so I could really see them all and there she was, the extra bovine.

She looked old, eyes sunk and her nose was almost an axe handle wide. Her tail drug the ground and when I got pretty close I could see her toes crossed on the left front hoof. But she didn’t shy away from the cubes as I closed in and she certainly made it clear to the rest of the cattle that she didn’t share her pile! Her eyes rolled to follow me and she pivoted around on her front end, her tail swinging menacingly. I sorta chuckled to myself at her display, poor old hide thinking she was still in her prime.

That thought, the cow still so feisty and so old, but escaping the happy hunting grounds all this time, gave me reason to pause. I was already on the way to hook up the trailer and another thought crossed my mind. I’d bet, if I were a betting man, that old hide is difficult to pen, rope, find or load!

Not knowing who might be the proud owner of the cow, I was gonna call the neighbors and see if anyone had a missing momma and a bawling baby as the udder, all be it almost on the ground, was bulging. Also decided a call to the male offspring might be in order. Both of the youngsters, well, younger than me by 32 and 34 years, have good horses and like to think they are pro material when it comes to headingand heeling.

No one claimed the old cow and since it was sale day we though we would go ahead and haul her to town. I would let the barn hold the money should anyone claim the sold beef and have a way to identify her. You know a miserable old hide can teach a herd of well behaved females some nasty tricks if left together. I just didn’t want that at all!

I watched from the gate as two good horses and two fairly good cowboys were worn out. Lather fairly dripped off the horses and I finally called a halt to the ordeal for fear we would wind break one or both of them. That old cow wasn’t worth a horse. The offspring were so shocked that they couldn’t rope one old cow that they didn’t want to quit, but we did.

The next morning the boys showed up early with horses loaded and ready to give the Black Beast, that’s what they called the cow, another run for her money! I decided to let them try one more time.

It is my opinion, and everyone has one, that old Black Beast was a gypsy, living off the land, anyone’s land. She came and she went, any time or place she desired to go. She left a calf somewhere and didn’t even look back, probably having done so at least ten times before. We looked, searched and counted many times and she just wasn’t there. The fence was not loose, no holes, no hide hanging and we were fourteen hours wasted!

One more day in the romantic life of a cattleman!

-Bill

Bill is a pen name used by the Gravette author of this weekly column.

Opinion, Pages 4 on 03/03/2010