Coyotes, Cows and Christmas Trees

The report came in.

A neighbor had spotted a wolf loping along near the sheepherders’ monument at the west end of my ranch.

A second neighbor reported spotting the biggest coyote he had ever seen at the east end of the ranch.

My sheep were in the middle. Coyotes have already crunched up 20 lambs this year.

My brother, Roger, and I made a plan to meet at dawn.

We watched the sun rise and the sheep meander out from the safety of their corral.

And we watched a pair of coyotes – one massive – trot over a ridge about 1000 yards away.

I suspect pups learn ballistics as they nurse.

A couple more strategies did not play out as expected.

Our next plan will involve motorized vehicles.

But first, we needed to bring the cows home.

Each year, my farmer neighbors allow me to graze their crop stubble.

It’s a win-win for all of us.

The cows and sheep graze new, moisture-sucking growth while fertilizing hungry soil.

I string a few miles of electric fence around the field each October and roll it up each January.

But electric fence is not the simple answer that so many people recommend.

In fact, I have noticed that the only people who so cheekily advise electric fence as the end-all, be all answer to livestock management are the same people who don’t actually use electric fence. At least, they don’t use it on large acreages.

Each day while the cows are grazing, I check the fence with my fingers crossed.

Many, many things can prevent electricity from flowing through wire.

A decent ground is essential.

Wind rolls tumbleweeds into the wire.

The wire can short out on one of the periodic metal posts I use between fiberglass posts.

A deer can catch a foot as it leaps the fence.

A flock of wooly sheep can slip under it, taking the posts and wire along for a ride.

My fence tester resides in my pocket or on the pickup dash for most of the fall.

It turns out that Roger doesn’t like to spend an hour chasing cows back into the right field, especially when we have other jobs to accomplish that day.

I get frustrated with the interruptions to my schedule, too, but a chance to enjoy a stroll in the warm sunshine is not the worst consequence of a short in the fence.

Even better is a chance to feel the warm sunshine on our faces as we stroll through the forest on a quest to find a great Christmas tree.

Five of us piled into two trucks and headed out on a journey of yuletide adventure.

As we climbed toward the peaks, we came upon a family with one car in the snowy ditch and one truck on ice.

They had no idea that two Masters of the Unstuck had just arrived.

Flashes of my buried tractor crossed my eyes, so many images that I had to pause.

Roger and I pulled our shovels from our pickups and purveyed the scene.

The Jeep wasn’t even high-centered.

This shouldn’t take long.

But ego and inexperience held us up.

Apparently, strangers don’t take kindly to unsolicited advice, even when it is from experts.

An hour and a lot of unnecessary shoveling later, the Jeep was on packed snow.

The three people in our party who did not carry shovels had walked, laughed, and spotted potential holiday greenery so the saws came next.

A few minutes later, two trees and two saws were in the pickups and hot chocolate and sandwiches were out.

When we got home, the cows were also out.

As I trotted behind bovines at dusk, I reminded myself that the fun is in the journey when it comes to Christmas.

And cows.

And coyotes.