Any Saturday in August

Cow-Calf Commentary

Shaun Evertson
Posted 8/31/18

As the days become shorter and the sun’s daily path across the sky is shifting noticeably southward, summer’s heat begins to fade and the world begins to look and feel just a bit like Autumn.

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Any Saturday in August

Cow-Calf Commentary

Posted

KIMBALL, Neb. – As the days become shorter and the sun’s daily path across the sky is shifting noticeably southward, summer’s heat begins to fade and the world begins to look and feel just a bit like Autumn.

Last Saturday, sunrise came at a decadently late-feeling hour. The eastern morning glow didn’t even begin to show until 5 a.m., and the sun finally peered lazily over the horizon at 6:15. Overnight the air temperature had fallen to 54 degrees, and a thin eastern haze layer of clouds delayed the morning warm-up. Crickets were chirping away and it was pleasantly cool as I set out to fetch cattle.

Far overhead ranks of thin cirrus clouds ranked themselves into mares-tail formation. The cool air still smelled of summer, but all around me summer’s green was fading to brown as warm season grasses ceased their rapid growth phase. In adjacent crop fields corn plants were looking tattered and tired with browning leaves and fat, drooping ears. Proso millet was looking tired and brown as well. There was still plenty of green in the forage sorghum though, and as I drove by I noticed that a buck Pronghorn was beginning to gather his harem after a summer spent in splendid male isolation. Just another late summer morning, no different than the countless late summer morns I’ve seen before, yet at the same time fresh and new and unique. This is the way the world really is. There are no identical, photocopy days. The annual poem of our planet always rhymes, but each day is an individually unique stanza.

My immediate chore was to bring the cows and calves in from pasture. Today we would brand and vaccinate calves before moving the herd to a late-summer pasture. The herd was less than two miles from the corrals, so bringing them in wouldn’t take long. The path we would take would be roughly northwest to southeast. I’d gather and bunch the cattle and drift them along an eastern fence line, then through a gate and across a separate pasture to a drift fence, and then into the corrals.

As I began my gather, I noticed a cow had died in the night. She’d been a bit droopy for a few days before suddenly going down yesterday. She had no obvious illness; no fever or cough or other signs of sickness. She was simply down and not interested in getting up. Although you hate to lose a cow, at times like these it seems a mercy when they go quickly. It’s a much neater outcome than a slow decline, which usually ends with a gunshot. The cow’s calf didn’t seem much concerned and was off with a group of his mates, busily grazing on tasty and re-greening cool season grasses.

The gather went well. The cattle were a bit frisky and seemed to be enjoying the day, but they weren’t flighty and seemed content to move away from the pressure of my approach and drift along the fence line. After 40 minutes of a slow amble they funneled into the corrals and lined up for a drink of cool water. My help had arrived while I was bringing the cattle in and we met up after I closed and secured the gate. They commented, as always, about my ability to bring the cattle in by myself and with a single pickup. On their operation the gather always involves multiple pickups and four-wheelers. Every outfit has a different approach, and each different approach comes with a set of advantages and disadvantages. In my case, I’ve arranged fences and corrals to make it easier for one person to move cattle, and so long as I use a little bit of cow sense gathering cattle isn’t much of a chore. It takes a bit longer, of course, but the cows and calves are also calmer and more relaxed and therefore, easier to work with.

After a few minutes preparation, we had the branding iron heating, vaccines ready to hand, and the chute checked and lubricated. We quickly sorted the cows back and kicked them out into an alleyway, then began to hands-on part of the chore.

On Saturday I chose to push calves and left the branding and vaccinating to the crew. Pushing calves is physical and takes a lot of walking back and forth. In some ways it’s just grunt work, but it’s a job I like to do. It’s both a physical and a mental challenge, and if done correctly the stress on the calves can be kept to a minimum, which is an important and easily overlooked consideration.

Working the calves didn’t take long at all, only a couple of hours. The crew worked hard and efficiently and by 10:30 we’d finished and turned the cows and calves back out into the pasture. Along the way I’d collected a couple of kicks and would have a bruise or two, but that’s par for the course. Otherwise the operation had gone smoothly and well, and we finished just as the morning heat was beginning to bear down.

Once the cows and calves had been reunited and had a bit of time to reassure themselves, we drifted them back along the path they had taken earlier, then turned their noses south toward fresh grass. We followed the herd as they ambled along a trail road for a couple of miles. The trail road was dry and dusty and flanked on both sides by fallow wheat ground. As the heat of the day built the cattle drove a good bit of dust into the air. There was no breeze at all, so we moved through a perpetual dust storm. None of us -- cattle included -- enjoyed navigating the dusty path, but it was the worst part of the day and only lasted an hour or so. Before long the cattle took a left turn through a gate and flowed into a pasture of native prairie ground filled with the bounty of lush and untouched summer grass. They spread out and began grazing, and that’s a beautiful way to cap a morning’s hard work.

The help departed and I returned to the home place, closing gates along the way and turning off water at the stock tanks. I noticed that the dead cow had attracted a turkey vulture. The big, dark birds are quite ugly, especially with their naked, featherless, startlingly red heads. On the other hand, vultures are perfectly adapted to fit their place in nature. In that sense, you can’t help but admire their form, which is perfect for their function. Nature has her own kind of beauty, and being able to stand back and appreciate her majesty is one of the things that makes for a life of zest and wonder.

As I buttoned up the corrals and took care of the post-branding trash heavy storm clouds began to arrive from the west. They’d been building while we toiled, and had gone unpredicted by the weather forecasters. As they arrived overhead the heat of the day rapidly faded and thunder began to growl.

No doubt about it, it’s late in the summer season, and fall is just around the corner. Here’s hoping that all of you kind readers enjoy the changing of the season.