A few days ago ol' Saddletramp and I put 175 first-calf two-year-old heifers
and their calves into a rectangular-shaped lot of about an acre and a half in
size. We settled the bunch on one side, and then started sorting the steer calves
and their mothers to the other side of the lot. Everything worked great, and
we just worked the cattle slow and easy. The dog stayed home. I was riding a
new five-year-old buckskin paint that I purchased at a horse sale a couple weeks
ago, and he handled the situation very well. Saddletramp was mounted on a tried
and true horse, and we were proud of the job that we did. The cows and calves
had corresponding numbers in their ears, and we only had to guess at a very
few that had lost their tags.
We were finished in time for an early dinner, then sorted another bunch of our youngest calves. Then we trailed the steer calves and their mommas to fresh green aftergrowth on a hay meadow. Everything went slick.
The next morning there were two cows standing in the corner bawling, so I realized that there were a couple mis-matches. I opened the gate and let them go back to where we had sorted. One cow found a heifer calf that belonged to her, and they were happy to see each other. Good for them, I thought. The other cow with the full bag really disappointed me and aroused my ire. When I let her in with the other group of cattle, she immediately found another cow, also with a full bag. Before I knew it, both cows were standing there sucking each other. Their calves have been bumming all summer from any other cow that would stand still for a few minutes, while the two miserable wretches got fat sucking each other. Plumb disgusting.
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