Cow Boss

Here at the Rafter S, I’m the cow boss. Impressive, right? Well, let’s dive into that a little deeper.

A cow boss’s job is to oversee the day-to-day operations of a ranch. He assigns each cowboy his or her duties and he is responsible for the hiring and firing of the cowhands.

For the man (or woman) who holds that title at any of the few remaining big ranches, places like the Spanish Ranch in Elko County, Nevada, where 3,400 mother cows are managed on its 76,000 deeded acres, or on J.R. Simplot’s ZX Ranch in Eastern Oregon, which spans 1.3 million acres and runs 11,000 head of mother cows, the title carries significant weight.

My Little Ranchette

But here on the Rafter S, it doesn’t take much to tend to my five mother cows, and of course, there’s not much hiring and firing that takes place. And if I get too big for my hat, the real boss lets me know about it.

A jigger boss is second in command, and upon further contemplation of my situation, perhaps that’s a more appropriate title.

Well cow boss or jigger boss, either way, I keep a close eye on the cows during the early days of spring to make sure that all goes well with their calving.

 

And all did go well again this year (we’ve had several years where all didn’t go well), so now we have sixteen head on the ground: five mama cows, five yearlings (which won’t be with us much longer), and five calves.

Oh, and the proud father who always gets it done, Norman.

Crazy Cindy

You’ve heard about Crazy Cindy before.

She’s the only cow that gives us any trouble, but for some reason, I just can’t let her go. This year was no different.

Within the first 24 hours of a calf being born, we like to give it a shot of Bo-Se (pronounced bow-see), which is essentially Selenium which helps prevent white muscle disease. Full vaccinations will come in a month or two when we brand the calves and castrate the bulls.

All went well as we snatched and stabbed a needle into the calves of Maybel, Jackie, Miss Kay, and Bonnie, the first to calve in that order.

Giving Shots

We usually do it at feeding time, hoping the cows will be distracted while we snatch the newborn and give it a shot.

But Crazy Cindy won’t have any of that. She consistently moves to position herself between us and her calf, and she paws at the dirt to let us know what we might expect unless we leave her baby alone.

The crew this last weekend consisted of me, my son-in-law Ryan, whom I planned to use as a rodeo clown, drawing the heat away from the rest of us (though he didn’t know that), Randi Jo, the senior nursing student whose skills might have come in handy, and Lesli, the trophy wife, and actual cow boss. She’s the one who gives the shot once we have a hold on the calf.

Taking Chances

I’ve been pushing my luck lately with Cindy. But in my defense, she’s only tried to kill me a couple of times. My wife, on the other hand, has been chased over fences and across pastures, and Cindy helped her over a corral panel one day. Sunday, I began questioning my sanity.

After several failed attempts to get our hands on the cute little day-old red calf, Ryan and I split apart. Cindy started toward me, then turned toward Ryan (Atta girl, Cindy, now you’re thinking!) and I was able to snag the calf. Cindy turned and came at me, but Ryan moved in from the other side. For a long moment, she wasn’t sure who to kill.

Giving the Shot

“Hurry with the shot!” I said.

I don’t remember what Lesli said, but there was a refusal to proceed woven into her response.

“Come on,” I encouraged.

She reluctantly came forward. Cindy was now inches from my nose, so I rubbed her head and told her how pretty she is. (Cindy is honestly the ugliest cow on Earth.)

Ryan had the calf’s head; I had her hind end. I told Lesli to come around the back of me, because it’s important to protect the boss.

The shot was administered, and we backed away slowly, careful to not lose sight of the devil-cow.

All is Well…

When the work was finished, the girls went back to their business.

Ryan and I resumed working on my truck, which may have appeared to the casual observer more like Ryan working on my truck and me drinking beer. Nonetheless, all ended well, and we wouldn’t have to risk our lives again until a month or so from now when the crew gathers to brand the calves.

And next year, we’ll do it all again. Because I just can’t bring myself to rid the Rafter S of such a wonderful mama cow, even if she does have the personality of a rattlesnake.

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