The Cows and the Dog

            My husband had been out checking the cattle and fences one morning, and came back with the news that the fence was down for some stretch between the neighbor’s and one of our hay fields. Not only that, but the fence was also down between one of our pastures and that same hayfield. My spirits fell as he informed me that not only was a bunch of our cattle in the hay meadow (about two hundred and fifty head), but also about two hundred of the neighbor’s. I listened with dismay because on our ranch, my husband hated riding and horses, and anything remotely connected with them. If he couldn’t do it on a motorcycle or in a pick-up, either I had to do it or it didn’t get done. This was going to be a job for me. Alone. He had fixed the fences when he found them down, and he wasn’t going back.

I saddled up after lunch and with my little poodle “house dog,” Flossie, (nobody bothered to tell her she was a “house dog”) headed out to see what could be done about the mix-up.

When I got to the field, I just stopped and stared. How in the world was I ever going to separate these cattle? In the first place, they were pairs- the cows all had calves and while the cows were branded, the calves were not. There was no way to tell which calves belonged to the neighbors and which belonged to us. To make matters worse, they were all the same color! It would have been easy if the neighbor’s cattle had been all Herefords, since ours were Angus and Angus-crosses, or “black baldies.” But theirs were all blacks and baldies also. There were no corrals within about two miles, definitely too far to move them to sort them out the easy way, even if−and that was a big if−a lone horseman could convince four hundred and fifty pairs to move out of a choice hay meadow. It was going to be a long afternoon, and probably a long several afternoons, working one or two pairs at a time to their respective pastures. Without another rider to help cut out and “hold back,” it was going to take forever. With a deep sigh, I started at a slow walk towards the widely spread out bunch. “Lord,” I silently prayed, “I think I am going to need some help here. I have no idea how I am going to get this done.”

Suddenly, one of the neighbor’s cows spotted my little white poodle, and ran up to her, “on the fight.” Flossie retaliated by barking as ferociously as she knew how, and a miracle suddenly happened. My husband never allowed dogs of any kind, including stock dogs, around the cattle, so our cows didn’t have a clue about dogs. But the neighbors worked their cattle with dogs all the time, and those old girls knew that when they heard a dog bark, they had better get their kids and be ready to head out. And I mean now!

Flossie thought she was the toughest dog alive, and no cow was going to scare her off. She continued her ferocious barking and ran right up to the offending cow, which let out a bellow and ran off to find her calf. At the same time, every single wandering head of the neighbor’s cows came up in the air, and they began bawling for their calves with one very loud bovine voice. They each ran and found their “kids” and had them at their sides in seconds, heading for home the way they had come. Our cattle, not used to dogs or being moved with them, remained totally unconcerned and continued eating. Oh, a few raised their heads to watch the show, but they certainly weren’t going anywhere. The alfalfa was too tasty!

In less than twenty minutes all of the neighbor’s cattle were back on their own ranch. It didn’t take me long after that to move ours back to their home pasture. Two hundred and fifty head are a lot easier to move by yourself than four hundred and fifty head. (Besides, they had extra time to fill their tummies!)

I was thanking God all the way home for my very personal and much appreciated miracle, and as I rode slowly with a smile on my face, a passage from the Bible came to mind:

“The watchman opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice. But they will never follow a stranger; in fact, they will run away from him because they do not recognize a stranger’s voice.” John 10: 3-5

Those cows knew the barking of a dog, just as we who belong to the Lord know His voice. He calls us and keeps us safe in Him. How blessed we are!

I thank God that I know His voice- and that those wandering cows knew the “voice” of my dog!