Pageantry of Bovine Bingo

For some people, September brings the end of harvest, weaned lambs and the equinox.

For my milk cow, Maija, September brings cowpie bingo.

Conrad’s wrestling club members sell tickets that represent a square on a grassy grid.

Maija picks the winner.

In fact, she has picked the winner for the last nine or 10 years – both of us have lost track.

Maija likes to look good for her starring role.

She has been grazing with her calf in the pasture all summer so her coat is shiny.

When I put her in the corral, I noticed that her back toes had grown long and unwieldy.

Loose hip joints caused by at least 16 calves sliding through them allowed her hind legs to wobble and her feet to tilt. Her toes took advantage of the lack of downward pressure and shot upward.

I had the Sawzall at the barn anyway, so I figured a pedicure was in order.

Sawzalls vibrate when the blade cuts.

Maija didn’t appreciate vibrating toes.

So I found a soft rope, tied up one hind leg and started a groove with a hacksaw.

Maija kicked.

I had to move the groove down her toe twice before I quit drawing blood.

Then the Sawzall made fast work of tough toenails.

Maija practically pranced out of the chute.

Two days later, it was time to transport the star to her big show.

I opened the trailer door, but before I could lead her inside with a bucket of grain, Maija stepped into her royal carriage.

Twenty minutes later, I opened the carriage door on the golf course driving range.

Maija paused to appreciate the audience’s adoration before stepping regally on to her stage.

Then she meandered across the painted grid, stopping twice for photo-ops in her best main character pose -- one hind foot perfectly aligned with 19-year-old hips, the other placed slightly forward to emphasize her high-producing udder and extra-large-capacity rumen; her broad nose projecting confidence; her ears and eyes alert.

Then she delivered the crowning moment.

The winner took home $3000.

Her 2024 performance complete, Maija sauntered back into her carriage.

After I closed the trailer gate, I mentioned to the bingo ringleader that while Maija is a professional, she is edging closer to retirement.

It’s possible that this had been her denouement.

Neither of us liked that possibility.

Back at the ranch, I opened the trailer door in a patch of green grass so Maija could trot out on her pretty toes.

Maija jumped out, greeting her calf, Queenie.

But Queenie was not yet ready to follow Maija to supper.

Queenie stepped into the trailer, leaned against the front wall and then mimicked her mother’s main character pose while Maija looked on, seeming to offer performance tips to her daughter.

The free-range chickens did their best impression of pterodactyls, necks stretched out and feet churning as they rushed to join the impromptu show.

A front-row seat wasn’t good enough for the chickens. They needed close-up-and-personal action.

Soon, I was herding dodging hens out of the trailer while Maija and Queenie graciously accepted their tenacious admiration.

I think I even heard bovine giggling.

Other ranchers tell me about their difficulties when loading cattle.

I wonder if Maija might have an opportunity for a second career.

Along with leading hesitant cattle into an unfamiliar trailer, maybe Maija could coach them on posing for just the right theatrical effect.

Maybe Queenie can work as her understudy, in case Maija’s dance card is filled.

If both of them happen to have prior commitments, my hens are prepared to step up to the challenge, too.

All because the wrestling club bets on cowpies every year.