Throwback Thursday - Garmin on Patrol

Throwback Thursday

Monday, January 12, 2009

Go on - Git!

So as if we haven't had enough to deal with amongst the throes of the holiday season, we've had a good cold snap and the marsh on our property has frozen. The cattails leftover from last summer are all brown and sagging. They unfortunately had grown up over our west property line fence and now that they are brown and saggy they have dragged the fence down with them. I didn't realize anything was amiss until we got this hard freeze and the cattle who are normally turned out on the farmland to the west of us decided to stroll on top of the ice, over our sagging cattail inundated perimeter, and greet my horses over the one remaining strand of fenceline separating my horses from the marsh. Apparently no one told my horses that they have quarter horse bloodlines, because they are absolutely convinced that these large black angus cattle are merely masquerading as herbivores, and at a moment's notice could morph into equine-eating machines.

Since Owen is out of commision recovering from his surgery and my horses were useless against this foreign threat, tonight it was up to me. I marched out into the frozen marsh wielding my plastic pitchfork, reasoning that if a 1500 lb cow can manage to stay on top of the ice my hulking frame certainly shouldn't crash through. I shouted; I waved my weapon; I attempted to strike fear into the heart of every bovine present. They nonchalantly moseyed slightly further west.

Having evicted them from our property, I proceeded to inspect our perimeter fence and made the discovery hitherto presented. Realizing I was no longer the threatening menace as I initally presented myself, the cattle determined the dead cattails were more appealing than I was foreboding and all came back over to eat.

I'll try it again tomorrow with backup humans to help me repair the fence. Hopefully I won't wake up in the morning with 30 cattle knocking on my door for breakfast. If that's the case Cecil might just have to cowboy up, find the quarter horse within, and get tacked in his jumping saddle to herd them back onto the farm. Go on - Git!

 

"Go on, git!" revisited 

originally posted on Dec 26, 2009

For those of you who remember my post this time about a year ago - the marsh has frozen over once more and I woke up this morning to our pasture hosting a herd of the neighbor's cattle. 5 out of the 7 horses living here were in an uproar because of the close proximity of the horse-eating machines masquerading as herbivores. I did my best to quiet the horses (served breakfast) and then proceeded in 30 mph winds to escort the cattle off our property. This should have been significantly easier this year, because I have a 7 month old border collie (Miles) to assist me by lurking 50 yards behind me and growling menacingly at the cattle. Once in a while he would try to bite the whip I was carrying. He did not chase, herd, corral, or in any other way tell the cattle they ought not to be eating my pasture. So much for the herding dog and large game. At least he shows the same deferential respect to my horses. On the other hand, I did have a good bit more assistance from Tally, the new dog living in the barn with Miles. She's a 2 year old hound-mix who arrived from the humane society this Christmas, approximately 20 lbs of menacing vocal talent. She expertly ran semi-circles around me and the cattle and then with an almighty bay sent the cattle to the far side of their own farm. Not bad for a little hound. I've given up on frozen marsh fencing repairs - we'll just give the cattle the "go on, git" for the next few mornings until the marsh melts and the fence pops up again.

Miniature Jumping Cow Pony on Border Patrol  

originally posted on Thurs 2/27/2012 

As reported in blog posts from years past, the neighbor's cattle frequenting our pasture in the wintertime has become an annual occurrence here.  The marsh freezes, cattails fold over the barbed wire fence, and the cows just step right over on the frozen water and come on by.  This evening Owen declared he was going out to send them home because they were eating my large round bales of really nice quality horse hay.  For reference, because cows have several stomachs and are ruminants, they can eat almost any kind of forage and gain weight.  Horses, with one stomach and a delicate digestive system need very high quality (translate: expensive) grass hay, especially the thoroughbreds whose metabolisms run fast anyway.  So I was MAD that these cows were basically eating all my lunch money.

The three horses living in the pens by the big bale were not concerned, they stood quietly discussing the cuisine with the cows as though they had invited the cattle over for a little dinner party.  Cecil, however, was frantic.  He was prancing around his pen which is further away from the cows, and snorting as loudly as possible, in a fit from his bovinaphobia.  Garmin, who lives with Cecil, just watched observantly.

Owen released the border collies from the barn.  Belle immediately bullet-ed out to the hay stack to move the cattle back.  Miles, a little less focused, came over to say hello to me and then went to join Belle.  They succeeded in moving the cows to the far west corner of the pasture.

In an unprecedented act, the younger cows, about a year old, decided there was no reason to move away from a dog.  After all, a cow weighs hundreds of pounds and the dog only about fifty.  Approximately three of these cows turned around and charged Belle.  She was astonished, this retaliation was totally unanticipated!  Keep in mind that Belle grew up in a small back yard in the town of Loveland on a cement pad with chain link fence.  She had never seen livestock until she arrived here as a 6 year old, and discovered her affinity for herding.  She tried valiantly to get them back on course, but despite her best efforts they stared her down and chased her halfway back to the barn.  One dog down.

Miles, meanwhile had discovered that I was wielding at long whip in order to make noise and move the cows back to their property.  Miles and the whip have a gleeful history together.  When Miles was a puppy, a friend and her 5 year old daughter house sat for us.  The daughter, a budding animal trainer herself, taught Miles a game she called Hup-dog.  She would tie a string of baling twine to the end of a long stick, then wave it in the air, spinning around and shouting "hup-dog!".  This action would quickly provoke Miles into giddy ecstasy causing him to launch himself into the air to snap at the string.  My friend's child has long since forgotten this game, but Miles has not.  Any time a whip comes out he is there, ready to pounce.  No matter if I'm working a young horse or trying to move cattle from on foot, he is there to help.  He never would even consider going after the animals with aggression, just the whip in his game of Hup-dog. The attraction of the whip quickly turned Miles from determined border collie on cattle alert into goofy puppy playing Hup-dog.  So that was two dogs down. 

When I looked back to see where Owen was in terms of back-up, he was standing right next to the horse's paddock, jaw dropped in awe as he watched Garmin the pony rear back onto his hind legs, and leap over the fence from a stand-still.  He jumped out of his own paddock, and then jumped INTO the pasture with all of us.  Garmin had a literal good roll in the strewn about hay, then began to run around determining the next maneuver for cattle escorting.  We may have been down two dogs, but we had gained a miniature jumping cow pony on border patrol.  The only thing missing was a bright cape and jumpsuit with an "S" on it.

Over the course of the next half hour our little team succeeded in replacing the cattle back in their own pasture beyond the marsh and doing a temporary fix on the perimeter fence line.  The only casualties were two pairs of wet shoes (though Kim got high boots for Christmas so no wet socks at least), Belle is still a little shook up about being charged by a bovine, but Miles is blissfully oblivious to the certain danger they faced.  Garmin followed me back to his pen, where I am planning to raise the fence height (this is the fourth time he has jumped out for various reasons best known to him).  The horses settled down to continue their supper, sans cattle.  We'll see who is invited to the dinner party tomorrow night.