🔵 By Matthew Boivin. Photo by lauragrafie.
There never seems to be a shortage of adventures working around these rangy cows. The longer I spend on the back of my state pony, the more of a cowboy I become. The latest adventures moved the needle from just prison cowboy closer to an actual cowhand. Christmas 2022 rolled through with frigid temperatures that had us busting the ice with a chopping axe so the horses could drink from the trough. The cows in the pasture were able to break the ice with their hooves, which spared us the task of using the front end loader of the tractor to crack the ice for them. The cold kept our work to just feeding the animals, which left time for own Christmas feeding. Our crew only has four men, and we feasted on a cheesy lasagna, garlic bread, and salad with Ranch dressing. The best part of the fest was two homemade pecan pies sent to us by the supervisor’s wife. There was so much home-cooked food, we had enough for the next day, too. I was also blessed with a brand-new pair of Ariat boots still in the box. For a few hours, I was just a cowboy sharing a meal with the other wranglers.
A week later, the 2023 new year brought with it 70-degree temperatures that felt like an early Spring. It also brought our first new calf and enough adventure to kick off the year in true cowboy fashion. The calf itself was no problem to handle as we tagged him in the pasture, but mama was a different story. As soon as her calf started bawling, she came at a trot with her head high ready to fight. Bow did not hesitate to drip his head and trot out to meet her. I kept the reins low near the saddle horn and let him do what he does best. The cow trotted back and forth trying to get closer to her calf, but Bow was a wall she would not pass. He cut when she cut, trotted ahead when she tried to outflank him, and did not flinch when she charged him before losing her nerve. He was so focused on fighting the cow, I had to pull him off her when I heard the all-clear from the guys tagging the calf. Bow kept turning back to the cow keeping his attentive eye on her as the wranglers mounted. The little calf ran straight to his mama, and I felt Bow relax under me.
A fresh calf on the ground in January means the bulls were active in March. The herd is exposed to the herd between June and August to keep the births on a schedule. The 2023 calf crop should hit the ground in May. Two bulls did push through the fence in March and apparently went straight to work. Where one is found, there could be more, and we rode through the rest of the herd searching for signs of impending births. We were looking for full udders, waddling walks, and swollen vulva. That search led to our next adventure.
We spotted three more possible early mamas and one sick mama that needed medication. Cattle can handle the cold and they can handle the wet, but cold and wet always leads to sickness. Add in the extreme weather changes, and we are lucky we only found one sick cow. The temperature dropped from 57-degrees to just 9 degrees with a wind chill factor of -20 degrees overnight. When the cold snap broke, the temperature climbed to 74-degrees. That was 94-degree “feels like” change in the span of two days after the arctic air left.
Looking for signs. The prison rarely calls a veterinarian for anything other than a pregnancy check, which places the onus of herd health on our shoulders. The cows will tell an experienced eye when they are in pain, though. The most obvious sign is a pronounced limp, which can mean anything from hoof lameness to intestinal pain. Cattle have a certain walk and sudden changes in gait mean the cow is in pain from either sickness of injury. Another tell-tale sign is body language. Healthy cattle hold their heads level with and above their spine. They are also attentive to anything entering the pasture and will lift their heads with ears forward gauging the threat. In contrast, a sick cow holds her head low, tucks her feet close in hunched position and reacts with indifference when something new approaches. The sign of sickness can be subtle, but lead to bigger problems if ignored. I spotted a cow with several symptoms and the rodeo started.
I admit I need to practice my roping because my lack of skill made a routine task troublesome. I put Bow on the cow, and he did his job well, keeping me right on that cow’s hip. I missed, though, and my rope went with the cow. For whatever reason, I let go of the rope’s tail, and it landed across the cow’s neck. She was dragging the rope behind her with the lasso on one side, and the tail on the other. I needed my rope – it is the only tool I have. I hopped off Bow and ran behind the cow trying (and failing) to grab the tail as I ran. The old cow noticed I was on foot, and I’m sure she thought, “I got me one now!” She turned to charge me, but I side-stepped her bony head. That hard forehead caught me on the thigh, though, and dead-legged me, but all her spinning tangled the rope around her feet. Her back legs went down, giving me an opportunity. I jumped across her neck and hooked my arm around her head, twisting that big snout toward me. My weight on her neck, twisting her head, and her lack of footing tipped her over on her side. My little 140-pound ass was laid across the neck of 1,100-pounds of cow holding her in a head lock as the other wranglers rode up and dismounted. She was struggling to get up and kicked the man slipping a rope around her back legs, but a sharp wrist of her head kept her pinned down. That was the firs time I caught a cow without actually catching her, but whatever it takes to get the job done. I let the cow go and limped over to Bow who was standing obediently watching me approach. Apparently he has more sense than I do and knows enough to stay out of the way.
The next day started out with a plan (and a limp from a sore thigh), but plans often change. The original plan was to repair the road to our main corral in preparation to transport 148 steers to the sale barn. After that, we planned to saddle up to ride through the herd again. I cranked the faithful old John Deere 8400 tractor that has been here since the early 90’s and hooked up to the grader blade. After about an hour, the Field Captain saw my work, and my horse plans went out the window. I did my job a little too well and was volun-told to grade the rest of the roads around the compound. A different man with a different blade graded the rest o fth gravel roads the day before leaving them in worse shape than when he started. I trained another tractor drier while I completed my project so I did not have to do that again.
By the time I finished the roads, the horses were back, leaving me just a little time to work on my original project – Penny Two-Stockings. She was saddled in the morning and ponied behind Patch without a rider. Patch and Penny are pasture buddies, finding comfort in each other when the other horses reject them. I often see the pair standing together away from the others, and Penny will have her head just behind Patch’s shoulder. She finds peace being subordinate to Patch, which is why I chose him to help. Ease her into becoming a working horse. Seeing Patch carry a rider without exploding helps Penny understand that every ride does not have to become a battle. Penny’s behavior problems come from the use of pain as a training tool. In her mind, the saddle equals fear and weight on her back makes her think, “They’re gonna hurt me.” I am enlisting Patch to help her overcome that underlying fear.
I was able to watch some of the horses’ trek from the tractor, but the greatest success came after Penny returned. By the time I go the grader unhooked from the tractor Penny was in the round pen with the supervisor. He had a plastic bag tied to the end of a sorting switch using it to desensitize her to the fluttering, rattling bag. Unfortunately, he was standing directly in front of Penny, holding tightly to the lead rope. Her whole body was leaning backward, stretching against the lead rope and radiating fear. I walked into the round pen, and the supervisor handed me her lend. I took the flag and went to work. The first thing I did was step to Penny’s side to help her relax. She is deathly afraid of anyone standing in front of her with the rope or reins in his hand. In her mind, that position leads to pain. I move to her side, eliminating that fear and clearing her mind to learn. The process took a few minutes, but Penny showed me she is eager to learn. She backed away from the switch, but I moved with her until she realized I was not going to hit her. Before long, she calmly accepted the plastic bag as I rubbed it all over her body and legs. After the bag work, we made excellent progress with her feet. I placed my hand on her withers and slid it down her shoulder following the line of her leg to her feet. Each time my hand slid down her leg, she would take several nervous steps backward. I moved with her, keeping my hand on her leg until she stopped moving. I released her leg then, starting the process over until she finally stood still long enough to let me pick up her foot. I gave her a big neck hug each time she let me hold her foot, keeping the foot off the ground longer each time. The process took a full 15 minutes on one side, but Penny eventually realized I was not going to hut her. I repeated the process on the other side, which went much faster, but I was not ready for her back feet. Penny’s fear is deep-seated and her reactions are unpredictable. Frankly, I did not want to be kicked in the face at that moment.
The next day, we saddled all the horses and ponied Penny behind Patch. When we reached the levee, she hopped around a little going up, but her feet barely left the ground. Her bucking was more for show than any real heartfelt reaction and only lasted a few seconds. We rode about three miles away from the office, and on the way back it was tie. I climbed down from Bow and mounted Penny. I settled into the saddle and Patch walked forward still leading Penny. I sat in the saddle for a good mile without a reaction from Penny. At one point, Patch got frustrated with her and tried to bite her, but she held her composure – mostly. Her nervousness was apparent, so we stopped before she blew up. I stayed off her for a mile then remounted for the last mile.
I was proud of Penny and gave her the best reward I could think of: unsaddling her. To a horse, there is no greater reward than a release, and she earned hers by not putting me in the dirt! Somewhere along the line, Penny’s mind cracked. A staff member put too much pressure on her, and the violence instilled a fear in her that permeates every interaction with people. She has the horse equivalent of post-traumatic stress disorder. The signs are obvious to me, and I pay enough attention to recognize her triggers. Training Penny is a delicate l balance between healing her mind and teaching her how to behave. If I put too much pressure on her, fear takes over, and she learns nothing. If I use any kind of pain to correct her, I only reinforce her fear of people. Thus, Penny is much like a toddler. I want to guide her and help her grow, to her potential while simultaneously instilling structure and discipline as she learns to regulate her fears. Challenging, indeed, especially while I am also learning.
Horse learn in several ways, but the two most prevalent are repetition and “this preceeds-that” process that is particularly vexatious. When using repetition , I focus on positive reinforcement, offering her rewards when she accomplishes anything I ask. The other learning style is more difficult to manage. For example, Penny’s fear of any man standing directly in front of her is a direct result of being whipped with the reins from the front. In her mind, the presence of a man in front predicts pain. For me, that means I have to plan my moves two steps ahead. What it really boils down to is that must control myself before Penny can learn.
The horses teach me every day how much of an impact my behavior has on those around me. The adventures are exciting, but the life lessons are far more valuable. The horses are excellent teachers and far wiser than this prison cowboy.