Some fences need mending

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

We were so glad to have a little shower last evening. It sounds real good coming down on that old tin roof after the dry, hot summer we just experienced. I only heard a couple of claps of thunder and the rain lasted about fifteen minutes. I figure it was about like a heavy dew, nothing to fill up a pond, just relaxing and sweet.

I was easing around this morning, fed Snip and even fed the barn cats some of their dry feed.

Thank goodness there are none in the sick pen, andIsatontherimofthe water tank while it filled. I just sat and enjoyed the morning. I believe I even crossed my arms and put my toe in the dirt in circles. The birds were chirping real loud, espe- cially the crows who want all the pecans.

Meandering along the pasture in Granny gear, I thought I saw a couple of big black humps on the horizon that shouldn’t be there. Surely the bulls were where they should be as we had strung a hot wire around the old fence. I plan on referencing the bull pasture next year after I make some more money, if I ever make some more money; and that is gonna have to happen, as we have patched until we are now patching patches. You fellers know what I am speaking of, and therefore the electric fence is a just- in-case insurance policy. If the above does not make sense, you have a greater wealth than me.

Those big black humps got bigger as I approached, and one of them threw his head up and looked at me. I hate that second when a feller is sure the wreck has done happened and now allhecandoispickupthe pieces! This wreck had done happened!

I carry a sack of feed in the truck behind the seat just in case of such emergencies. I drove around to the gate and went through quietly, but three of the five were watch- ing me now! Easing on down the fenceline to the offending enclosure, I stopped at the charger connected to the electric wire and, sure enough, it was plumb dead. I don’t mean weak; I mean dead. It was burned up, looked like a direct hit with a mean shot of lightning.

I rolled up electric wire and made a gap in the old fence about twenty feet wide, positioned myself on the inside of the bull enclosure and shook the sack and sooucked the bulls. They all looked, dropped their heads and continued to graze. I yelled and shook the feed sack again. They all looked and continued to graze.

A young bull, about a twin to a sixteen year old boy, sud- denly bellered and charged an old bull. The day was shot and I am too disgruntled to continue the tale of the roundup. It was not pretty, it was not fun and it was an all- day job. I was almost ready to apply for a truck driving job when all was said and done and still might do it!

It is my opinion, and everyone has one, a good neighbor is one with good fences, and a good cattleman is also one with good fences. I will admit that I fail on one of these. A good way to get a fence row cleaned out is to try to run five errant bulls back into the pasture that it surrounds. They remove posts and tangle wire for a mile, blow snot in your hip pocket and make you glad the preacher isn’t helping round them up!

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