Rodeo CowsI think I can pinpoint the very weekend that my son, Micah, became a teenager. Having worked with teens for many years, I have come to know that it’s not just an age, it’s an attitude.My husband is a fishing guide. Our son and I consider ourselves scouts. We help Ralph find the hot spots. And so, as usual, on a Saturday, we picked up Peter, a friend of Micah’s, and headed out in search of a place on the Walker River that was reputed to be teeming with German Browns. We wound down Kingsbury Grade, through the twin towns of Minden and Gardnerville, past the Washoe Indian outpost, past Topaz Lake, and through the long canyon through which the Walker River flows. I love this area. Having grown up in Michigan, it’s a real treat to be in the mountains and there has been a lot for me to get used to. This was not a particularly beautiful section of the river on this day, however. Too many cattle on either side of it and assorted ranch run-off, combined with some sort of foamy scum, had given the place an unusually foreboding look. Plus, we had to compete for river access with a large herd of long-horned cattle. “That cow doesn’t look real happy to see us,” Ralph observed. “Well, I just hope it doesn’t come this way,” I responded with apprehension. Now, everybody knows that cows are not ferocious animals, don’t they? But, not having any experience with them close up can give a greenhorn (like me) pause. I was having a hard enough time walking over the rough riverbed rocks and through the sage brush when I looked over the rise and saw the cow closer now, alert, and mooing ominously. “MOO! MOO!” is blared loudly. It was more like a honk, really. Insistent. It was calling the other cows (steers?) on the opposite side of the river. About six of them clamored quickly across in a great burst of bovine energy. |
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Ralph picked up a rock, threw it in their general direction, and yelled, “Ha! Git!” They backed off. He continued up the river, but I stopped to observe the progress of the boys. I could see them walking toward the cows. “Oh, no! What if they get attacked? Maybe these are rodeo cows!” My mind was picturing cows attacking rodeo clowns and the ones chasing men through the streets of Palarmo, or wherever it is…They were getting closer. “Micah! Micah!” I yelled. I wanted to warn them about the cows. But, the boys were oblivious. I yelled louder, “Micah!!” The cows seemed to be territorial. I could hear the boys approaching. They were entertaining each other and making mooing noises. If I could hear them, why couldn’t they hear me? Making mooing noises seemed unwise to me. I picked up a stick. Oh, great. I’m going to run at these thousand pound, horned animals with a stupid stick. The cowboys at least rode horses. They never were trying to fish while they herded these beasts. And, where’s Ralph? He just walked off and left to hone in on the fish. Darn! “MICAH! I yelled at top volume. I could hear them giggling. I was furious. “WHAT’S THE MATTER WITH YOU? CAN’T YOU HEAR ME??” I was screaming. |