Doin' Cowboy Stuff

"Steer's out!" was the call El Hubbo got last Saturday.  We were outside on our back porch, enjoying our newly cleaned up space, when our friend and neighbor down the road called.

He'd just gotten two steers the night before, and we'd gone to help him unload. "They are a bit bigger than I thought they were going to be," he said.  He'd planned to get a couple steers to feed out and then have butchered.  Usually that translates into a 300 - 500 lb calf, and you feed them out to about 1000 - 1300 lbs.  When we arrived, we were greeted by two solid black, 900+ lb steers who were not too happy with their current circumstances.  

Mean would be an understatement.  They were in the trailer, but they eyed us with a "We're bigger and badder than you" look in their eyes.  El Hubbo and I looked at each other a bit surprised, and then we hopped out and got to work.  The trailer was backed up, the gates were opened and out they charged!  Around the holding pen they travelled and they made a couple unsuccessful attempts at charging through the fence.  

Water was already in the trough, and feed was thrown over the fence.  One of the steers and I squared off and stared at one another for a bit.  El Hubbo missed a perfect opportunity to wear a Matador outfit, and I made a mental note to order him one for Halloween.  

We decided the steers would probably settle down once we weren't there raising their anxiety levels.  We bid our friend goodbye and climb in the truck.  "I'm gonna bet they don't stay in the fence 24 hours,"  I said.  El Hubbo said, "If they are there in the morning, they'll probably be fine."  

El Hubbo checked on them the next morning when he went to feed the pigs.  He reported they were still there.  "I still say less than 24 hours,"  I replied.

The aforementioned call came in at about the 20 hour mark.  (I win.)  I climbed up on a brick post and could see the escapee over the back fence and across the field.  El Hubbo said, "Let's go cowboy!"  I laughed, and we went inside and changed into attire more appropriate for chasing cattle.  We saddled up our trusty steed (El Hubbo's big Ford truck) and off we rode.

By the time we drove around to where we figured the steer was heading, it trotted across in front of us.  Our friend drove up in his gator and we pointed him in the direction of the steer.  He took off in one direction, and we took off in the other, hoping to at least keep it off the major roads in the area.  We circled around and watched the steer slow down and stop in the field.  

The next hour was spent slowly tracking along with him....him not liking it one bit.  At one point, I opened the pickup door to crawl out of the truck.  El Hubbo says, "What are you going to do if he charges you?"  "Imma gonna run!"  I said.  Then we both laughed and laughed and I pulled my leg back in and shut the door.  (Hey!  My days of being able to outrun a steer or jump in the back of a moving truck to avoid being crushed by a charging steer are WAY over.)

Calls for assistance were being made to everyone we knew, but being a Saturday, most of our real cowboy friends were away at ropings. Finally, our friend was able to contact his nephew and he agreed to come rope and trailer the steer.  We just had to keep it off the main roads while he drove 45 minutes to get to us.  

We failed.  

El Hubbo had driven up a dirt road to try to head off the steer.  The steer and El Hubbo squared off, and began a game of chicken.  I hung out the window waving my arms and hollering at the steer, El Hubbo honked his horn and the steer took off running toward us.  Not knowing which side of the truck it intended to come, I ducked back in and braced for impact.  The beast just went right by us at full gallop.  

"I bet he's out of the cattle business tonight," El Hubbo said of our friend.  "I bet you are correct, sir," I replied.  

We backed up and watched as the steer went down the fence line toward the main road, turning to run along the ditch at the last minute.  About this time, our friend got a return call from the Sheriff's department.  He had dutifully reported the situation, and they had gone to check his house.  The deputy let our friend know the other steer had gone over another gate and in the process crushed the fence, but he was still in the back enclosure.  For now.

We slowly trailed behind the hooved demon with our flashers on and tried to make passing motorists aware of the roadside hazard trotting ahead.  

Public Service Announcement folks:  When you see a big pickup with it's hazards on, and people waving their arms out the windows like there is an issue ahead, they might be trying to warn you that there might be something happening and that you should SLOW DOWN and look around to make sure you do not get into a situation that might endanger yourself or others.  Just an idea.  And, yes, please read that again in the most sarcastic and condescending voice of mine you can imagine.  And if you happen to know any of the IDIOTS who swerved past us at top speed and then had to stomp on their brakes to avoid the big ol' steer on the road, please let them know.  It's obvious they need to be made aware of this PSA.

We continued rolling down the road following the devil beast.  He crossed yet another main road and then decided he'd jump another fence.  I was beginning to think our friend might need to enter him in the Olympics.  We pulled over and watched as he trotted up to some other cattle next to yet another fence.  He must have finally worn himself out as he stopped there and just travelled up and back down the fence with his new found friends.  

Soon, the real cowboys showed up.  Our friend's nephew and great-nephew unloaded the horse, and the great-nephew rode out.  We enjoyed watching him work the steer and just about the time he almost caught him, the steer caught his second-wind and jumped another fence.  Yes, another one.  We gained permission from the landowner to go through his gates and the rodeo resumed.  We watched as our cowboy caught the steer.  He and his dad started working to pull it into the trailer, and the steer broke loose.  

Undeterred, our cowboy readied his rope and went after him again.  He worked through the herd, cut out our miscreant beast and chased him down and roped him again.  The trailer loading was successful and off we went back to our friend's house to see if steer number two was still there.  Well, off they went.  I traded spots with our friend and moseyed back down the highway in the gator.  Just, me and my allergies chasing the freedom of the open road between two fields.  

When I arrived back, I was informed that steer number two, so as not to be seen as a sissy by his trailered partner, decided to jump the fence, too.  A much briefer chase ensued and he ended up roped and loaded in the trailer.  Our friend's nephews loaded up the horse and hauled the steers off to greener pastures.

"Well, in the cattle business one day, out the next," our friend said.  We laughed and started to head back to the house.  

"I'm tired," El Hubbo said.  "Yep, we're too old to be doin' cowboy stuff," I replied.