One Mad Cow!

            The feedlot where I was working was small, with only a few hundred head of cattle in all shapes and colors. Many were aged cows instead of young steers, being fattened for slaughter. Being an older, smaller operation, the fences weren’t always in the best of shape, and one day, one particular old biddy decided she had been in that feedlot long enough. She was a solid red cow, with a beautiful set of long, gracefully curving horns that had never been weighted, so arched upward and out. They were true lethal weapons! She was a thinner type of cow, and appeared to have some dairy blood in her somewhere. She was also mean as sin.

            The mare I was riding was about two weeks shy of foaling, so I was only doing easy, slow riding at the time. I went looking for the cattle when I saw the pen was empty, and found her along with about twenty others she had coerced into escaping with her. I tried the slow and easy method of herding the cattle back to the pens, but she was having none of that. I managed to get every animal but her back where they belonged, then returned for the renegade.

            It soon became obvious that I would be unable to get that cow in on a pregnant horse. She was on the fight, and had holed up in some brush. The only way to her was head-on, and she was swinging that armored head of hers very threateningly every time I tried to get close to her. I decided that I really didn’t feel like getting my horse disemboweled, so went back to headquarters for reinforcements.

            The owner’s son was soon saddled and ready to take the old rip on, and we headed back to where I had least seen her. Sure enough, she was still there, in the brush and the shadows, still shaking her head with those menacing horns. Ralph looked once at me, and I gestured at the cow, indicating that she was all his. He rode in toward her once, then again, each time backing away rapidly as she threatened to come and get him and his horse. Finally, we decided the only way we were going to get that miserable piece of hide out of there was to rope her and drag her out, and it wasn’t going to be fun. Right about then, I decided that maybe I wasn’t too unhappy about riding a mare that couldn’t possibly do the job-it was going to be dangerous!

            Ralph was game but had never roped an animal in his life, and while I was certainly no pro, I agreed to rope the cow and then quickly hand the rope off to him so he could dally and then drag her out and back across the fields to the pens. So I did.

            I have to admit I felt pretty proud of myself, as I only made one throw and it was a picture perfect catch right around that big set of horns at their base. I jerked the slack, but the cow never moved. She stood her ground and shook that mad head, snot blowing from her nostrils and hate emanating from her eyes. She was HOT! I handed the rope off to Ralph who quickly dallied then turned to drag her out.

            Well, Ralph began pulling that mad cow in earnest, and she ever so slowly started coming along behind him. Suddenly, instead of dragging her feet, she turned on the steam and came for Ralph and his horse with everything she had. Her head was down and she was aiming for blood. I yelled a warning, and Ralph dug his heels into his gelding, trying desperately now to stay out of reach of those horns.

            The battle was on! The cow would alternately charge, then sit back on her hind end, nearly pulling Ralph’s horse over. Finally she got so mad, she just laid down in a plowed field and refused to move. I mean, that cow was MAD! And no amount of prodding, pushing, tail wrenching, or yelling would make her get up. The only things moving on her now were her tail and those big, sharp, horns.

            Deciding that maybe she needed to rest and  cool down a little, we left the rope on her horns, but backed off and dismounted to let everything settle down. Our horses needed a rest also after that rodeo. We must have waited for nearly half an hour before we decided to try again, but it was soon very apparent that nothing had changed in her attitude. Even  the best horse couldn’t pull a twelve hundred pound mad cow through the dirt for that distance, which was nearly half a mile.

            Ralph sat and thought for a moment, then handed me the rope and told me to sit tight and he would be right back. The next time I saw him, he was driving the payloader, and he wsn’t smiling. But he had determined that this particular cow WAS going back where she belonged!

            Well, we ended up literally hog-tying that cow. We tied all four feet together, then scooped her up into the machine’s big front end bucket. When she ws safely in the bucket, Ralph moved in and tied her to it, just in case she took it into her head to fling herself out on the way to the pens. Then she was hoisted into the air, and the payloader lumbered off for the very place she had escaped from earlier that morning.

            That cow fought those ropes all the way. Nobody wanted to get close to her, and we weren’t sure how we were going to get her out of the bucket and into the pen once she was there, but Ralph solved the problem. He climbed up the arms of the bucket, quickly sliced the ropes holding her feet, them motioned for me to hit the lever that would dump her in. Ralph had not driven into the pen, but rather had pulled up outside the fence. When she was dumped out back where she belonged, she fell about ten feet. Unhurt, she lay there in the dirt for a few seconds, then got to her feet and ambled over to the feed bunk as if nothing had happened. I couldn’t believe it! She was back to “normal” in just seconds.

            How like that cow we can be at times. How often do we decide for whatever reason that we want to go our own way, and leave what we know is right and safe and expected, to branch out and go where we know we shouldn’t. But sometimes sin looks like so much fun! So we go where we choose, and someone has to bring us back where we belong. Sometimes our friends try to gently coax us back, and we ignore them. Sometimes our consciences are pricked, and we know we should turn, but we choose not to listen. Then God, in His wisdom and mercy, comes after us. He loves us and cares for us, and when we are too stubborn to listen, He will force us if He has to. Just like that miserable cow, who knew where she belonged and could have come peacefully but chose to fight all the way, how often do we do the same thing? How often do we say, “Not YOUR will, God, but MINE!”

            And where does it get us? God will correct us for our own good, and in the end will do whatever it takes to get through to our hard heads and hearts. How much easier it would have been for that cow if she had never left the safety and security of her pen, where all was provided for her on a regular basis. And once she DID rebel and leave, how much easier it would have been to come back when I brought the others that had left with her. How much easier, in the end, for us if we would turn from sin and evil and not leave the safety of the Lord and His protection. And how much pain and suffering we bring upon ourselves when we won’t return quietly. But thank goodness God loves us too much to leave us to our well-deserved fate. He always brings us back to Himself.

            I hope I learned a little something from that mad, miserable, cow!