Husbeast came down the mountain a few days ago and said we had cows on the neighbor's side of the fence. They were very happily hiding in the tall brush, down in the canyons and on troughs that they don't belong near.
We couldn't go after them for a couple of days because we had promised to help our friend move his cows. The day after we helped him, we asked him if he would drive us around so we could gain some elevation and ride at our cows from the side that would push them over where they actually belong. We rode the ridge line for about 4 or 5 miles before we came to the spring where they were hiding. I expected about 20 cows but we found closer to 30 that had drifted over.
When Husbeast and I came together at the gate, he told me to follow the cows and head down to the main watering hole where we could grab any others that might still be out and bring all of them home at once.
Seemed like a fairly simple thing to do because in my mind, the cows were ready to head to the meadow.
There are three canyons on that side that have springs in them where we always have cows. These cows decided they were going to check every trough and also split in to two groups and go completely opposite directions from the straight line and correct direction. They walked in the highest, rockiest, bushiest places trying to get away from the direction I wanted them to head.
I yelled, hollered, called them names and rode my horse up and down, down and up and over for what seemed like an eternity. And yeah, I swore like a sailor and questioned the intelligence of the cows and myself. At the third and final trough, the lead cow finally decided she'd had enough of my insults and lead them down the right trail.
We were finally in the general area where I was supposed to meet Husbeast. He came riding up to me and asked if I had trouble. **insert "the look" here** I laughed, and then told him how damn dumb those cows had acted. He was just as surprised as I was.
It was then that he noticed that my horse had thrown a shoe. At that point I figured I would be able to keep her on a trail where she would have the least trouble walking. Because surely, by now, these cows knew there was a meadow in sight.
Nope. Again. No.
They flat didn't want to go where we were headed. It wasn't even hot! It was overcast and sort of acting like it was going to rain.
They just didn't have it in their minds that walking was a good idea.
On our way down, each draw seemed to have three cows in it that didn't want to come with us. Husbeast and I took turns heading up after them. Once we were out of the brushy country and the cows had finally lined out, I stepped off my horse and led her through the rocky stuff. I was trying to save her foot from being too sore.
The rest of the trip was fairly uneventful. Katlyn and Weebeast showed up with lunch so we took a break and watched as some of the smarter cows finally had something click in their brains that said "oh! Hey! The meadow is this way!! Come on Girls!!!"
Weebeast wanted to ride my horse down, so he climbed up in my saddle and I let them stay on the trail and I walked back and forth bumping bulls and cows along. It is rather amusing to watch a cow see me coming on foot and scatter every which way. I guess they've been in the mountains too long. Or I'm just that scary?
The wayward herd finally joined the rest of the cows and we finally made it down the hill. According to the FitBit is was a 19 mile day. My butt cheeks and feet will testify to that.
And hey, may you always have cows around...