If you’ve ever lived on a farm, you know that feeling you get when you realize the animals are out of their pen.
About 15 years ago, my parents had two of their Holstein steers get loose and wander the neighborhood. It was such a memorable experience that I can’t drive down certain back roads without thinking about it.
Here is the story.
When You Know You Just Lost Your Chance
It all started when Dad’s two Holsteins made it through a break in the fence. Due to the dogs barking and notifying us of trouble, we caught the escape fairly quickly.
Mom, Dad, myself, and Brian headed out to the the pasture to herd the animals back in where they belonged.
Mom and Dad had a small wooded area to the east of the enclosure. It was our priority to try and keep them out of the woods and in the open field, before we slowly moved them through the now wide open gate.
The plan did not exactly work out the way it should have.
It’s been 15 years, but I still remember the four of us out in the field, slowly inching them to the opening, when Dad just couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted them back where they belonged, and quickly.
The cows had different plans.
As soon as Dad tried to hurry them along, waving his arms and walking quickly towards them, the cows ran through our four-person barrier and left for the woods. (I’m glad it wasn’t me that tried to hurry them back into the pen. I wouldn’t have heard the end of it.)
It was at this point that we knew we had lost our chance to get them in the pen efficiently and in a timely manner.
They were gone.
All Hands on Deck
We put in a fair amount of time looking for the escaped little bandits, but eventually Brian and I had to return to our home for the night.
For the next week, we knocked on neighbor doors and elicited help wherever possible. Everyone within a 5 mile radius was searching for two misbehaving Holsteins.
We walked mile after mile, drove around the country backroads time and time again, but still nothing.
I still had a job to do during the day with teaching. I had mentioned the dilemma to some colleagues and it became a point of conversation with friends at work. They would stop by my classroom in the morning to hear if we had found the steers yet. Likewise, they would stop back before the end of the day to see if my parents had heard anything. I thought about placing a sign outside my door to let people know the escapees still had not been located.
After work, Brian and I, as well as my sister and brother, would make our way to Mom and Dad’s house to drive around and search for the cows.
An entire week went by, and we were not any closer to finding the steers then we were the first day.
Taking to the Air in a Last Effort
It was time to try something else.
Dad knew a person a couple of miles away that had an ultralight aircraft that could hold two people. He went over to explain our situation and the nice man agreed to take Dad up for a quick spin to see if they could spot the steers.
They were not up in the air for more than five minutes when Dad said you could see the two black and white fugitives deep in a neighboring cornfield.
Once Dad was back on the ground, a livestock trailer was located, help was called in, and we headed over to corral the cows.
You would think that this part would have taken some time, given our prior track record of getting the animals to participate with where we wanted them to go. For some reason, it didn’t.
The overgrown brats seemed tired and did not put up much of a fuss when we loaded them on the trailer and returned them to their pen.
That night was the first night in about 7 days where we could all sleep easy.
From Cornfield, To Pen, To Freezer
As people heard that the animals had been found and returned, we had multiple friends mention that once a cow is out on its own for an extended amount of time, it won’t be long before they find a way to escape again.
Dad must have taken that information to heart, because soon after the whole ordeal, he called up the meat market and arranged to have the steers taken in to be butchered.
Now this may sound harsh, but the two animals were being raised specifically for this reason. Dad just sent them to market a little quicker than he may have given other circumstances.
I’ve been around this lifestyle since I was little. While I understand the need to take animals to the butcher, there have been many times where I was sad to see an animal get loaded up onto the trailer for that last ride to the marketplace.
Not this time.
The hamburger tasted absolutely fine to me as I ate my goulash, cheeseburgers, or Shepherd’s Pie.
On the other hand, who can blame the cows for reeking havoc on our lives when it was our intention all along to process them into dinner?
Oh well. Life is a cycle and we learn from our experiences. Maybe the lesson for this story is to do a better job at checking your fences.
**Sometimes ‘Monday Memories’ are published on a Tuesday. This is one of those times. What can I say? I’m behind this week.
Goals for Today:
- Water the Plants at School
- Work on Pinterest Pins
- Eat a Cheeseburger