How Now Lost Cow?


Move 'em on, head 'em up
Head 'em up, move 'em on
Move 'em on, head 'em up
Morse Farm!
Count 'em out, ride 'em in,
Ride 'em in, count 'em out,
Count 'em out, ride 'em in
Morse Faaaaaaarm!

Call me silly but I thought real cattlemen wore chaps and rode horses. Here at Morse Farm they wear Windstopper and ride Fischer SCS waxable classics. At least that's how I looked when performing the "... and other duties as assigned," portion of my employment contract.

I spotted the three culprits in the vicinity of First Run and Sugar Loop near the "S" curve - two brown, one black and white. All three were intent on hoofing it up that curve back towards the Christmas tree farm near Fancy, the site of their previous early morning stroll after having busted down the front door of their pen and waltzing through the parking lot and onto Sugar. I felt they had made enough hoof prints on the freshly groomed ski trails. Besides that, they were presenting an extreme hazard by walking up a blind curve. Not dangerous to they themselves, but to the next poor skier blazing down toward them. Good thing it was early and empty.

So in the meantime I had them blocked from using First Run or Sugar. I really wanted them to turn around and go back to their pen, but they refused. It was a classic standoff. The bull and I were eye-to-eye. I didn't know the lyrics to "Rawhide," so I couldn't figure out how to tell him and his girls to move on (little doggie). And realizing that I had left my bull whip at home and therefore could not make those wicked cracking noises that motivates them to "git along" (just like in the movies), I used my poles. But waving them in the air produced no results. Banging them together sounded like, well, two ski poles banging together. Not very menacing. So the four of us stood there. Three very large hungry scavengers wondering how they could get around one skinny skier. If they only knew the power of their sheer mass, or that there was no way I could have escaped fast enough had they decided to test my blue regular on a transformed base. Since I had to get back and open the shop I called in the back-up wrangler - Burr.

"Hey Burr, Dave. Did you know Tommy's cows are out of the pen and wandering around on the ski trails."

"Yeah, and I can see from my house that there's a skier out there with them and he looks kinda scared."

"Uh, no, that's me, Burr," I said waving toward his house. "I'm trying to either get them to go back home or at least prevent them from going any further up the trail. We're at a stand off right now."

"Oh, Ok. Good. Tommy and I are headed out right now. That bull hasn't ever been aggressive, but that doesn't guarantee he won't be now so be careful."

"Well, he's just standing there staring at me so I guess we'll be fine until you both get here," I said.

Moments later with a bucket of food in hand, Burr appeared at the parking lot. Rattling the bucket and whistling got the cows' attention and off they were, back into their pen.

I thanked them, turned and skied off into the sunset. Just another day at Morse Farm.


Created by Dave on 01/03/09 at 10:57am.