I shift in the saddle on my horse, Duke. We've been gathering cows to move them to a different pasture, and it's getting hot. It hasn't been an easy trail, but not terribly hard. Many calves have been separated from their mothers, and they are trying to run back, because they think that their moms have been left behind. I know that the cows are all up in front, not left behind, but the calves don't know that.
So I am moving Duke back and forth, keeping the calves in the herd.
Suddenly a calf breaks from the herd and begins to dash straight uphill, exactly opposite from the way we are going. I groan inwardly, seeing that I am closest to it. Then I nudge Duke onward and he gallops toward the calf.
I bump and jolt in the saddle--the calf chose some rough ground to run back over, and we are navigating it at a hard gallop. After a short dash, we get around the calf and stop short, but the calf dodges, and Duke and I are chasing it again.
Hooves pound, kicking up a cloud of dust. My breath comes hard, and I know adrenaline is flooding me. Duke stops with a jerk; we have brought the calf to a standstill. Then the calf twists and is off again--running directly away from the herd.
Duke gallops hard; we make it around the calf yet again, but it dodges 'round us, and now we are on the wrong side of the calf.
I angle Duke slightly away from the calf; maybe we can head it off. After a hard gallop, we come around the calf. I hold my breath; will it dodge us yet again or turn around?
It must have given up, for it turns around and begins running just as hard back toward the herd as it had away from it. I urge Duke forward to keep up with it in case it turns back suddenly. But we reach the heard and I heave a deep sigh of relief.
I brought the calf back.
So I am moving Duke back and forth, keeping the calves in the herd.
Suddenly a calf breaks from the herd and begins to dash straight uphill, exactly opposite from the way we are going. I groan inwardly, seeing that I am closest to it. Then I nudge Duke onward and he gallops toward the calf.
I bump and jolt in the saddle--the calf chose some rough ground to run back over, and we are navigating it at a hard gallop. After a short dash, we get around the calf and stop short, but the calf dodges, and Duke and I are chasing it again.
Hooves pound, kicking up a cloud of dust. My breath comes hard, and I know adrenaline is flooding me. Duke stops with a jerk; we have brought the calf to a standstill. Then the calf twists and is off again--running directly away from the herd.
Duke gallops hard; we make it around the calf yet again, but it dodges 'round us, and now we are on the wrong side of the calf.
I angle Duke slightly away from the calf; maybe we can head it off. After a hard gallop, we come around the calf. I hold my breath; will it dodge us yet again or turn around?
It must have given up, for it turns around and begins running just as hard back toward the herd as it had away from it. I urge Duke forward to keep up with it in case it turns back suddenly. But we reach the heard and I heave a deep sigh of relief.
I brought the calf back.