Cattle confusion

It is high cattle drive season around here.  All the cattle has been/is being brought back in chunks from the foothills and up in the mountains.  The family has owned and operated the ranch for over 100 years, and has always maintained natural raised, grass fed beef, herded by horse and foot and directing traffic. 

Last Tuesday, during my first week of work at the new job, I turned off the main strip onto our county road, headed north, only to find the turn-off blocked.  Cattle were heading south before turning into a field opposite the ranch homestead, and vehicles lined the homestead entrance to keep the herd flowing into the correct gate.  I offered to go the back route (off road passage that sneaks along the river), but there was enough of a break in the herd that they could move the vehicles and let me through. 

It is incredibly intriguing to watch these beasts ranging 600 to 1200 pounds lumber down the road in parade.   Their heads bob with every step.  Awkward moos trill high and low, occasionally gruff.  They all poop without blinking, without pausing, without even lifting their tail half the time.  Anyone who works in a hospital accrues new poop stories every day, no matter your intended interaction with a patient.  So as I see the poop flying I can only think it a strange version of continence, where there is absolutely no regard for how it comes out, where it comes out, and what other body parts it may cover in the mean time.  But I digress.

Yesterday, late afternoon, I stepped outside intending to check the oil level of my car.  I heard the peculiarly shrill mooing from afar, so looked into the field.  All the cattle were pinned in the northeast corner, acting somewhat chaotic.  Then I saw the latest parade as it turned the corner onto our road.  I immediately dropped the oil bottle on the ground, ran inside to grab my camera, and ran down the homestead drive to get video of the drive.  I got within 50 feet of road when the lead cow reached the turn-off, and I stopped dead once realizing the drive led them into the open (read: non-fenced) section of field by the homestead drive. 

If they got confused as to where to go, then they could head straight toward me.  Davy said the cattle know the ranch and are happy to return, but does that mean they are also happy to comply with the drive home or are they as irritated as their anti-tonal moo choir sounds?  They piled into the open field and immediately bottle-necked.  Tracy, on horse, swept back and forth trying to keep them moving together.  I had no idea where they were supposed to be going.  All the cattle in abutting fields raced alongside the fences next to the herd.  "Where are you going?  Am I supposed to go to?  You are running - we are running!" 

Davy's father, who used to operate the ranch and still helps out a bit, was on foot.  His attempts to keep them moving were also futile.  As the number of cattle in one spot grew, they filled the field over to the edge of the homestead, which luckily had a fence.  They kept turning toward the homestead road, and Davy's father kept shooing them the other way. 

"He's got so many cattle.  It's crazy!"

Apparently the goal was to use a different gate than usual to enter the field just south of the homestead.  To get to it, the cattle had to cross the open field diagonally.  Cows, it seems, do not understand once the self-evident tunnel of only forward movement gives way to open ended geometry.  For those of you reflecting on the simple nature of the cow brain, don't think so fast.  It is also exactly what happens to runners if a course is not flagged or blocked off to the nth degree.  Just ask those who missed a turn off during a trail race because they followed others and stopped looking for the dozens of florescent flags leading them the other way. 

To make matters worse, the cattle already inside the destination field were just as riled up.  They saw the open gate and tried to exit to be with their newly returned brethren in the chaotic field.  The gate?  Now clogged with cattle all wedged together.

Whoa, Nelly.

At that point I decided to retreat so that my presence did not become a liability.  Not sure which gate they used, but within the next twenty minutes all the cattle were finally in the intended pasture. 

I kept laughing at the ordeal for the rest of the night, especially thinking of the cows fenced in just north of the homestead road.  There are two particular sienna brown cows with white faces who are always very curious.  They maintained their faces behind a post as though it made them invisible while they watched me take my pictures.  Not even a bottleneck and pandemonium finish to the drive could deter their peek-a-boo.