The cattle were scattered all over the place when my neighbor's neighbor called for help. I guess they had been trying to pen the rogues for over two hours and the two of them were just not enough manpower to plug all the holes. Cars were backed up and most of the drivers were not cattle people. Therefore horns were blowing and that, sure enough, didn't help the situation a bit!
Cattle are smart enough when they want to be but when you get them riled or scared, the sky falls fast. I didn't know whose these cattle were, but the yellow line in the highway was just too much for the old wall-eyed cows to take. I suspected the herd had come from the creek, using the water for a main channel to travel. They were sure salty and worn out, sorta like an El Toro in the ring -- scared to death at first and finally nothing left of the flight adrenaline, just fight juice in their veins.
I had both of the male offspring gathered up and joined up with the two outnumbered cowboys amidst all the commotion. An older feller climbed out of his truck and threatened to knock some sense into some heads if the honking didn't cease! I reckon they believed him and things got a little quieter on the road. We didn't even know where we were taking this wild-eyed herd, but one or two old hides stepped gingerly over the yellow line and it began to look like someone was pouring cattle.
My neighbor owned the pasture into which the feral bovine stampeded and we were mighty glad to see them off the highway. They tore out a quarter mile of five-strand barbed-wire fence but traffic was allowed free rein so folks could be on their way to appointments and such.
We built fence for an hour and then talked over the next move. By the time we had gathered up at the truck, a deputy came roaring in with lights flashing. I was tired and cold. My hands had been stuck several times with barbs and I knew my close relative had a hot meal waiting for me. I do appreciate the law, abide by it, admonish my family to obey it to the letter, but this young feller wanted a lot of information and I did not possess much of what he needed.
I told the offspring to load and I proceeded to do so as well. That siren jockey jerked my door open and told me to get out; he was not through with me! Beings as I am tougher than nails, meaner than a momma grizzly with cubs, I did just what he wanted. I am tough and mean but I ain't completely stupid!
It is my opinion, and everyone has one, there should be a six-week class for officers on the workings of the country. I suspect that young man knew plenty about crime in the city but he sure as heck didn't know diddly squat about country doings.
I am forever grateful I didn't have to call my close relative to bail me out. The offspring were no help at all; they just sat in the truck and laughed!
Go ahead and help where help is needed, but be mindful it could be more than you bargained for. And pay attention to badges!
Bill is the pen name used by the Gravette area author of this weekly column. Opinions expressed are those of the author.