Sunday Strolls

I had just cleaned up the supper dishes, and I'd clicked on the DVR button to see what television show we could watch sans commercials on a lazy Sunday evening.

And we got the phone call.
If you have cattle, you've gotten the phone call I'm talking about.
It was a neighbor who said, "You have cattle out."
So much for cuddling up on the couch with my pillow and the remote. 

Instead, we donned shoes and sweatshirts and went to look for the escapees. When we got to the round top corral, there was one lone mama cow in the lot where she was supposed to be. Thanks for your cooperation, ma'm. I should have gotten your number so I could publicly thank you, but I was too busy scanning the horizon for your friends.

The rest of her compatriots had hightailed it to the south. We spotted them beyond a shelterbelt of trees on wheat. Randy drove the pickup and honked the horn, while I waved my arms and said, "hey, hey, hey" out the passenger window.

Thankfully, they turned around and headed back without us having to go and get the 4-wheelers.

Note the dust they are kicking up in our dry wheat field.

Once they got back to the proximity, they didn't seem to want to cross where the electric fence was down. Kind of ironic, since they'd crossed it to begin with.

But, with a little more encouragement, they went back where they were supposed to be.

I stood at the south edge of the fenced area while Randy restretched the electric wire and then turned the battery back on.

Little No. 447 was the first curious bovine to come and check me out.

I had several observers by the time Randy came back to pick me up. Cattle really are curious creatures.

Unfortunately, sometimes their curiosity takes them beyond the fence ... and interferes with a lazy Sunday night.

A week later, we hit the repeat button. I was settling down with my book (and, who am I kidding?, a Sunday afternoon nap), when Randy raced upstairs for pliers and said we had cattle out. It was the same group. The book (and the nap) would have to wait.

 

Again, No.  R55 was the only one who stayed behind. (I know it looks like they don't have anything to eat, but they were having their meals catered. With more reliability than Pizza Hut delivery guys (at least out here in the boonies), the guys have been delivering hay and water. R55's compatriots were just tempted by greener pastures (also known as wheat fields) on the other side of the electric fence.

I finally had to get out of the pickup to urge this mama and baby along. The baby was convinced it was starving and needed a snack during their march back to the corrals. (It sounds like a typical demanding toddler, don't you think?)

We got them herded back in.

Enough of these Sunday roundups (and other days, too. I just missed out on them.) The boss decided it was time for a change of scenery for this ornery bunch. And weren't we lucky? We got to do that job in snow and cold. Bad timing seems to be the theme, doesn't it?