Why Are Cows So Dumb?
Hi, it's me again... your favorite cow-horse, Shakespeare!
Today, I'm going to talk to you about the question of the century... why are cows so DUMB?
It never ceases to amaze me that an animal so close to the bottom of the food chain has been able to survive for so long! Surely, if it weren't for the fact that humans like to eat steak, the Bovine species would have died out a long time ago.
Let me tell you about a few examples of Bovine Genius, and I'm sure you'll agree with me.
I've never read the Cow's Handbook, but somewhere in the first couple of pages, it must read "Whenever possible, stick your head into the smallest space you can find."
Dad and I were riding pens at the feedlot one morning. We rounded a corner of the feed alley, and here's this steer with his head stuck in the fence. Now, there's no reason for him to have his head stuck into this particular place of the fence... there's no food on the other side, and no cows on the other side for him to be trying to reach. There was just pipe fence. This silly steer had stuck his head into the tightest area of the fence... it was barely big enough for his head. Then the silly steer couldn't figure out why he was stuck! Dad dismounted and grabbed the steer by an ear with one hand, and by the nose with the other. He twisted and pushed that steer's head till finally, they were able to work him loose. The steer wobbled off to join the rest of the pen of calves... no telling how long he'd stood there bellering, trying to get loose! I've seen them stick their head into a tight spot on the gate by the working chute, too, trying to find an escape. It never works... Dad just has to work them loose. It's really pretty humorous to watch!
Lots of times calves will find a little hole in the fence and get out of the pasture. Then, they can't find their way back in. Talk about a short memory!
Oh, and here's one for you. Let's say you have a pasture of calves, kept in by a single strand of hot-wire fence. (That's the way a lot of the wheat pastures are, in the Texas Panhandle.) Sometimes the calves will start riding each other, pushing and shoving. If they are in a corner or right next to the fence on one side of the pasture, sometimes one of them will squirt under the fence. Or worse yet, they will push right through the fence, breaking it. Then a handful of the calves will get out. When Dad and I go to put them back in the pasture, they can never figure out how to get back in! If the fence isn't broken, Dad lowers the insulator to the ground at three or four of the posts, so the calves can step right over the fence. The darned calves will walk right up to the pasture, but not cross the wire on the ground (or where the wire was, if it was broken.) We'll work them back and forth down the fenceline, working them kind of like you'd work your horse playing the seven games. Cows have roughly the same driveline as horses. Put pressure in front of the shoulder to get them to move backwards, and behind the shoulder to get them to move forwards. You put pressure on them to get them to move. Then, when they are heading the direction you want them to, get off them... release the pressure. Sound familiar?
Only problem, cows get excited easily, and they really don't have much horse sense, if you know what I mean. They'll run right past the opening, nine times out of ten. Then they'll either run right througn the fence or jump over it. Usually, they run right through it, so Dad has some fence-fixing to do. I'll give you an example of the Bovine Genius at work...
Dad was turning out a bunch of heifers on his wheat pasture this past November. There was a hundred and fifty acres of nice wheat on this particular pasture. So Dad set up the portable corrals in one corner of the pasture. Gregg trucked over the heifers, a hundred and twenty four head. They unloaded them in the portable corral and let them settle for a couple of hours. Then Dad and Mark were going to turn them out, show them the pasture, and get them settled into their new home.
The first part went fine... the calves unloaded nicely and appeared to settle down. So Dad and I are on one side of the portable corral, and Mark was on the other side riding Bert. Dad opened the gate, and the heifers started trickling out. The trickle turned into a small-scale stampede. Instead of the heifers running straight the way they were pointed, out into the wheat, they turned hard to the right and ran right through the hot-wire fence! I heard Dad mutter under his breath about genius heifers, and then we were off! We raced around the leaders of the herd, and turned them in a wide arc, heading right back through the place they'd broken the fence. But the lead heifers darted sideways as they were getting close to the pasture... " Can't go through there, there's a fence!" Wrong... they'd already broken the fence. So they ran down the fencline a ways, and ran right through another section of the fence, snapping it, too.
Well, we got all the heifers back into the pasture, and they appeared to settle down a little bit and start eating wheat. So Dad gets off my back and goes to fixing fence. Good thing he carries insulated pliers, cause that fence is knock-you-down hot. So Dad carefully grabs the end of the wire with his pliers, and I see him jump back, pliers flying through the air! It seems there was a crack in the tubing he uses to insulate the handle of his pliers, and yessir, he got shocked! Dad's good mood had pretty well gone South by now. He found his pliers, put his hat back on his head, and grabbed the wire again. I could see his arm twitch every time the electricity would hit him. But he got the fence repaired... it didn't take him long, either. I don't think Dad really enjoyed getting shocked much... but he had a job to do...
So Dad jumps back in the saddle, and away we go. Meanwhile, Mark and Bert were moving the heifers down the fenceline. Well, as it always seems to turn out, a couple of the heifers ran into the fence, got shocked, and jumped over it. (The electric fences are only about two and a half feet off the ground.) So Dad dismounts, and it's time to go to the other side of the fence to put them back in. When there's no gate nearby, Dad just pulls one of the fenceposts up, and holds the fence and wire high over his head, and I walk under it. There's probably eight or ten inches of clearance. I want to walk under the fence close to Dad, so the saddle horn doesn't get caught on the wire... I don't like to get shocked either. I just lower my head, and follow Dad's suggestions, trusting him completely.
We got ahead of the heifers that were out, and Dad lowered the insulators at a couple of the posts. Then we went back and pushed them toward the herd. It took some doing, but we were able to get them to cross the fence and rejoin the herd. It was getting to be late afternoon, and the heifers finally seemed to be settling down.
They were moving nicely down the fenceline, then we made the corner and started heading toward the water tank, a half-mile away.
I spoke too soon about the heifers settling down... They started running. Dad got a little worried that they would break the fence again. The bad part was, there was another pasture right next door. So there was our pasture's fence, the turn road, then the next pasture's fence. (A turn road is about the width of a pickup and a half.) Well, you'd think that by now Dad would be careful what he thinks. Somehow or another, those heifers picked up on what Dad was worried about, and ran right through both fences and into the pasture next door, mixing with three hundred other calves. These calves read their handbook.... Page 1, Paragraph 1 reads like this "Never, ever... under any circumstances should you cooperate with a human!"
It was getting pretty late in the afternoon by now, so Dad and Mark just fixed the fence and let the calves be. Dad took about an hour or so each day for the next couple of weeks to go into this pasture and cut out the calves that belonged in our pasture. Dad made a gate between the two pastures, and put some hay in it. Then we'd head into the herd, cut out a few of our heifers and push them toward the gate. The hay helped lure them across, and we'd either go back for more, or shut the gate on them. It took a couple of weeks, but we got her done. Good thing Dad has a good cow-horse like me, or we'd never have been able to get it done without more help. I must admit... I make Dad look good!
These are just a couple of examples of how dumb calves can be, and how it's against their nature to cooperate with humans. I've got hundreds of other stories to share with you, but here comes Dad with my oats. I'll have to get back to you another time.
Until then,
Shakespeare
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