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.|
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.
We got them herded back in.