Remember last year when we had to go get a load of young first-calf heifers and I was a little nervous about driving the big trailer? Well, this year I am way too pregnant to drive pretty much anywhere, and certainly can’t be any help branding and moving cattle. Lucky me, huh? Actually it would be nice to be able to pull my weight (haha) around here, but that’s another story.
So, another new set of young cows came to the ranch this past weekend. While I was hoisting my huge self from couch to bed and back, Dad and Mr. HH had to do all the branding and hauling. I did learn that if you’re not involved in the branding, you are also not immune to the horrible smell! It nearly knocked me down when I went to get into the pickup. But still preferable to the ‘vet smell’ my loving husband brought home the next day…ah, the joys of ranch life.
Anyway, so when they unloaded the calves it turned out they had a runner. What’s a runner? It’s a calf that…runs. And runs. And runs.
When they are really small baby calves have only a few instincts: get on your feet, follow mom, drink lots of milk, lay where mom puts you, and when all else fails - RUN! This little guy hit the ground outside the trailer, and since he didn’t see or smell anything familiar (including mom), he decided to employ the ‘run until something stops me’ strategy. Never mind that he was running away from his mom and getting himself so lost he would never find his way back.
Mr. HH and Dad had to chase him over 3 pastures (several times, to hear them tell it), both on foot and on 4-wheelers before finally cornering him against a fence. One football tackle and one calf-passenger ride later the little guy was finally returned to mama, but not after making 3 grown men chase around like rodeo clowns for 45 minutes.
But really, how can you be mad at a face like this? Easy for me to say.