DiamondSCattleCo
Well-known member
Maybe this has been covered already, but I'm sure everyone out there has at least one story of the craziest cow they ever did have on the place. So lets hear em. This one is probably my worst, and longest:
I think about the baddest I ever had here was a black blaze face that I bought at a herd dispersal. When she was in the auction ring, she was in a pen of other good looking blazes that I wanted. She tried to eat the floorman, but he was kind of a chicken, so I didn't think much of it. When I unloaded her and her sisters (with their calves), she tried to eat me. A couple quick raps with a sorting stick and a bellar from me, and she left me alone. So I figgered all was going to be ok.
Time warp forward a few months to calving season. I walked out to do a check and that "good old" blaze had a calf. Her head was up though, and she was watching me walk from the house. My calving pen is fairly large, about 500 feet x 500 feet. She was at one end of it when I hopped over the fence and started walking toward her. Much to my surprise, she started walking towards me too. I didn't have sorting stick so I hopped out and grabbed it, just in case. When I hopped out, she walked back to her calf and kept mothering it.
Armed with sorting stick in hand, I hopped back into the pen. As I started walking towards her, she started coming for me at a trot. I did a check of my situation, and decided that while I may have been walking softly, I certainly wasn't carrying a big enough stick. So I hopped out of the pen again, and grabbed a 2-3" fencepost (picket). When I hopped back into the pen, she'd had enough, let out a bellar and came hard. So I let out a bellar and went for her. I got about half way to her when I realized that this was a game of chicken I was NOT going to win, fencepost or no. So I let her help me out of the pen.
Ordinarily, I would have let things alone at this point, but it was -20 or so, and I could see the calf was beginning to feel the effects of the cold. So I fired up my trusty old 930, and went to fetch me a calf. When I rolled over to her calf, she backed away, but only until I dropped the bucket over her calf. Then she really came unglued, backed up, and took a run at the 930. She hit the old tractor so hard that she almost put herself down, so I lifted the bucket to let her see that her calf was just fine. The calf got up, and took off towards my calving shelter with Momma bellaring along behind. I was able to herd them with the 930 into the alley and into a warm up pen.
When I let her out the next day, her attitude was no better. Jail time did NOT lead to re-education. So I put her and the calf into a pen all their very own. It took almost 6 weeks before she was calm enough to handle.
Obviously, this was going to be a cull animal, but after 6 weeks she was in the main herd and all was fine. After weaning, I decided she was Rotten Ronnies bound.
My handling area is 6 feet tall, as my first cows were those bad little Angus brutes from years ago. I learned they could run like the wind and leap even 5 foot tall handling corrals with ease. Apparently this blaze faced cow had some rodeo stock in her as she headed down an alley and cleared that 6 foot fence with at least a foot to spare. She was now in with the horses, and after a couple fruitless hours, I decided to heck with her, she could spend time with the horses and get an attitude adjustment.
A couple months later, I finally trapped her up in a watering area. I'd learned my lesson the first time, so I rigged some corral panels up to add some extra height to my handling system. She hit that handling area at a full run, jumped and got her hind leg caught in the corral panel. I don't know if the leg broke or if she simply tore something, but at least it slowed her down. I was able to corner her several times with cold water and poured cold water over the leg. She was showing some improvement in a few days, so I decided not to shoot her.
Time warp another week forward. She decided she was going to drop her last calf, and did so. It was the most pleasant she'd ever been at calving season as she only had three working legs. :lol: Even my old legs could outrun her, and I was even able to tag and bag her calf in the pen :lol:
After weaning, I was able to move her and a couple other culls into a trailer and she left for Burger King. The wife and I celebrated with a steak dinner that night.
Rod
I think about the baddest I ever had here was a black blaze face that I bought at a herd dispersal. When she was in the auction ring, she was in a pen of other good looking blazes that I wanted. She tried to eat the floorman, but he was kind of a chicken, so I didn't think much of it. When I unloaded her and her sisters (with their calves), she tried to eat me. A couple quick raps with a sorting stick and a bellar from me, and she left me alone. So I figgered all was going to be ok.
Time warp forward a few months to calving season. I walked out to do a check and that "good old" blaze had a calf. Her head was up though, and she was watching me walk from the house. My calving pen is fairly large, about 500 feet x 500 feet. She was at one end of it when I hopped over the fence and started walking toward her. Much to my surprise, she started walking towards me too. I didn't have sorting stick so I hopped out and grabbed it, just in case. When I hopped out, she walked back to her calf and kept mothering it.
Armed with sorting stick in hand, I hopped back into the pen. As I started walking towards her, she started coming for me at a trot. I did a check of my situation, and decided that while I may have been walking softly, I certainly wasn't carrying a big enough stick. So I hopped out of the pen again, and grabbed a 2-3" fencepost (picket). When I hopped back into the pen, she'd had enough, let out a bellar and came hard. So I let out a bellar and went for her. I got about half way to her when I realized that this was a game of chicken I was NOT going to win, fencepost or no. So I let her help me out of the pen.
Ordinarily, I would have let things alone at this point, but it was -20 or so, and I could see the calf was beginning to feel the effects of the cold. So I fired up my trusty old 930, and went to fetch me a calf. When I rolled over to her calf, she backed away, but only until I dropped the bucket over her calf. Then she really came unglued, backed up, and took a run at the 930. She hit the old tractor so hard that she almost put herself down, so I lifted the bucket to let her see that her calf was just fine. The calf got up, and took off towards my calving shelter with Momma bellaring along behind. I was able to herd them with the 930 into the alley and into a warm up pen.
When I let her out the next day, her attitude was no better. Jail time did NOT lead to re-education. So I put her and the calf into a pen all their very own. It took almost 6 weeks before she was calm enough to handle.
Obviously, this was going to be a cull animal, but after 6 weeks she was in the main herd and all was fine. After weaning, I decided she was Rotten Ronnies bound.
My handling area is 6 feet tall, as my first cows were those bad little Angus brutes from years ago. I learned they could run like the wind and leap even 5 foot tall handling corrals with ease. Apparently this blaze faced cow had some rodeo stock in her as she headed down an alley and cleared that 6 foot fence with at least a foot to spare. She was now in with the horses, and after a couple fruitless hours, I decided to heck with her, she could spend time with the horses and get an attitude adjustment.
A couple months later, I finally trapped her up in a watering area. I'd learned my lesson the first time, so I rigged some corral panels up to add some extra height to my handling system. She hit that handling area at a full run, jumped and got her hind leg caught in the corral panel. I don't know if the leg broke or if she simply tore something, but at least it slowed her down. I was able to corner her several times with cold water and poured cold water over the leg. She was showing some improvement in a few days, so I decided not to shoot her.
Time warp another week forward. She decided she was going to drop her last calf, and did so. It was the most pleasant she'd ever been at calving season as she only had three working legs. :lol: Even my old legs could outrun her, and I was even able to tag and bag her calf in the pen :lol:
After weaning, I was able to move her and a couple other culls into a trailer and she left for Burger King. The wife and I celebrated with a steak dinner that night.
Rod