Jaws Hates Cows (part 1)



Todd and his good cowdog, Max



2006 was a tough year. Ray had knee surgery and was wearing a brace. Early in the branding season Todd bucked off and spread his pelvis which effectively sidelined him from branding and any horseback work for the next several months.

As sometimes happens, there was unrest in the troops. We had already lost two of our branding crew, and the day Todd got hurt, his support help gave notice that he was leaving the next day. We lost another good man before branding was over, and we limped by with the help of our part-timers (family) and everyone else picking up the slack.

With Todd laid up and no support help, the entire Blacktail side was left without a rider who was familiar with the new country we had acquired--about 40,000 acres; or a crew to take care of cattle movement. Clayton had worked for the previous owner in that country before we purchased it, and we needed someone who could step in and go to work without training or familiarization. We were able to get the nepotism policy waived to allow Clayton to come back and work for Todd.

Todd, with the help of Rita and his boys, was able to accomplish several ground projects, but the cowboy crew for the Blacktail that summer was Clayton, Ray and I, the assistant manager, and our daughter on her days off from her main job. It was this crew, minus Ray, who would make one of the toughest trails on the ranch. Trailing 600 yearling heifers to the top of Blacktail Ridge normally requires a crew of at least six to eight well-mounted cowboys.

Unable to ride horseback, Todd and Rita helped by using 4-wheelers to make the big circles, while the four of us on horseback--Clayton, Kyle, Kristy, and I--gathered the rest. As the herd came together, Kristy was sent up past the lead near the creek in front of Todd's house to make sure the lead turned up the road to the mountain. We had taken things slow and easy, and the herd was lined out nicely along the fence. Kyle was ahead of me, near the top of a rise, when I heard, "Oh, sh--!" My first fear was that Kristy had ridden out too soon and turned the lead back. 

Then Kyle shouted something else. I only caught one word: "Jaws!" I knew we were in trouble.

At the top of the rise where there should have been tails, was a sea of faces. The entire lead was coming back on top of us in full stampede with that sorry yellow bird-dog of Todd's romping down the middle like a fox in a pen of chickens. From that point, things happened so fast they became a blur.

Those of us on horses kicked into high gear, riding hard trying to keep the herd rolling back into itself so we wouldn't lose it. To make matters worse, I was riding Drifter, who is convinced that motorized vehicles coming at him are going to eat him. Rita, working the side by me on her 4-wheeler, had kicked into high gear too, and it took a couple of passes before Drifter would pay attention to the task at hand.

Jaws was totally oblivious to us. He was in his glory. He'd tear after one terrified heifer, running her in circles, then light out after another one going the opposite direction. Everything else was scattering in every direction trying to get out of the way.

I'd never heard Todd yell before, but he was yelling now. "Jaws! You yellow son-of-a-bitch! Come here! Next thing I saw through the churning dust, was Todd on his 4-wheeler chasing Jaws in circles right smack in the middle of the swirling herd. What a wreck! Todd finally got Jaws captured and hauled off behind the herd. We got the herd stopped and held up against the fence before sitting still to catch our breath...

part 2, next week

Sandee's good cowdoys patiently waiting for us to get the steers through
the gate after bringing them off the mountain in 2009.