Noticing my approach, my target heads out. Although at full throttle, I press my thumb harder hoping to somehow get the 4-wheeler to go faster. Slowly, I get closer and closer.
Springtime on the ranch means calving season. I thoroughly enjoy calving season and the miracle of life, but I do not like the inevitable deaths...those hit me hard.
For record keeping purposes, calves are ear tagged with custom numbers/letters to affiliate them to their mother. I maintain constant surveillance over the herd, paranoid of some calving difficulty where my assistance might make the difference. Day or night, I want to know who is doing what and if they need any help. Being so vigilant, I'm always aware of the babies and return to the ranch house to make their respective ear tags. Blank tags are removed from the bag with the marker. This pen drools an ink that is incredibly permanent and I apply the appropriate numbers/letters on the tag to correspond with the new arrivals. These custom tags are set aside to dry and later stuffed in a pocket when it is time to tag the calves.
The sooner I have dry ear tags, the better. One or two day old calves are easy to catch and tag. To me, the tagging isn't cruel, it's very similar to humans getting their ear pierced. Just a quick squeeze and its over.
Unlike all the farting around having to catch a horse and all the other associated activity to finally get out in the meadow to work, my 4-wheeler makes this chore efficient. A quick yank, even on cold mornings, and it's ready to go...and it doesn't need to be warmed up to prevent bucking me off. I buzz right run up beside the calf, who typically is hobbling beside side a worried momma, and I lean over and grab its tail while the 4-wheeler coasts to a stop. Then, simply pinning the calf to the ground with my knees and legs, my hands are free to attach the eartag and...ta-dah, done. Anxious mommas reunite with their calf and off they go.
But, sometimes cagey ol' cows venture to top secret hiding places to calve and keep their babies hidden. After several days, these not-so-newborn calves are noticed thundering around during feeding, not wearing an ear tag. I scan and eventually match the lightning bolt to the correct mother and later make the appropriate ear tag.
So, while closing in on my quarry with my 4-wheeler revved, momma is heading out with her aged calf literally high-tailing beside her; that's very convenient when the built-in handle stands vertical to grab. Like a true predator, experience has taught me to split the calf from its momma so I can make my move.
With the 4-wheeler whining, I swoop in from a strategic angle where the calf peels off to the left and I grab its tail and hop off to get it to the ground. The 4-wheeler is still moving forward, coasting to a stop when little 26A cuts loose with an ear splitting bawl. The beauty of the 4-wheeler coasting to a stop is it coincidentally provides a moving barrier for momma to go around. Momma doesn't care, her protective instinct is flared by her baby's cry for help and she smashes into the 4-wheeler. It topples over and I release the calf.
Now it's my turn to high-tail it.
I try to recall my horribly poor bull fighting skills from my college rodeo days and am dancing with the cow, thirsty to do a tap dance on top of me. Fortunately, she notices the calf bolting away and she sprints to catch up to be the protective mother hen.
I upright the 4-wheeler and straighten the handlbars as best as I can with a hard tug.
I'm working for a guy who takes great pride being an asshole, to the point that he even boasts about it. I have a yearning desire to knock him out with a hard punch and write that label, "ASSHOLE", across his forehead in huge block letters with that wonderful ear tag marker with indelible ink...so the whole world can know what he is all about. But, that act and ear tagging this calf are linked together by a common phrase since the timing is not yet quite right.
It can wait.
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