Tuesday, July 3, 2012
We got up early and moved the cows in the cool of the morning from one pasture to another across the road to fresh grass. Everything went smoothly, the cows knew where to go and the calves did not give too much trouble, started down the ditch, but I got them turned back to the gate.
I came home, hubby went back to make sure there were no stragglers left behind.
He soon came back to get me, had found a dead cow, and a calf that was a little on the skinny side.
So I am thinking, we need a Brent or a Brice (grandsons who are ropers), but off we go in our little tracker. We find the calf again, who is now on the move. Hubby gets his rope and moves to the back bumper of the tracker, and I start following the calf, who does not like being chased. Roger is hanging on for dear life, I get close, get ahead of the calf, swing in front to slow him down, and Roger throws the rope---a miss. I try again, but the stops and starts don’t make for good throwing aims. The calf is still on the move, Hubby yells, "Don’t let him get into the lake bed!" I ram over the terraces and get around the calf again, try to get him in position, and this time the throw is good. We load him in the back, hog tie his legs, as he is not too happy.
We dump him in the barn with the two other calves, locked them all in for awhile, so the new guy won’t be hunting for a way out, hoping the two resident calves will show him where the feed and water are. I come out of it with almost no blemishes, only a cut on one of my fingers by a knuckle from the rope, holding the rope while hubby tied him up.....forgot my gloves!
This the Geo Tracker, showing the bumper space hubby had to stand to rope the calf, while tracker is on the move.