The Attack Cow, Bobbie

Posted in: Featured, Ranch Life

Years ago I had a cow I called Bobbie. Her ears and tail had been frozen off as a calf, so the name fit.
She was gentle and I’d milked her some, though her short “handles” made her hard milking. She had
gotten into the pine needles during a storm the winter of her three year old year and lost her calf, as had
some other cows. Since she was my milk cow, so to speak, I’d kept her in spite of her being open.
Incidentally, she went on to have a long career as a stock cow and occasional milk cow. But, I’m getting
ahead of myself.
We’d changed jobs and the little set of cows, including Bobbie, had moved with us and were mixed in with the ranch cows. At branding time, the cows and calves had been gathered and were being held in a
little trap by the branding pen. The crew was setting up the portable pen for branding and getting things
lined out. I was setting panels but was where I could see the corner of the trap where this little incident
took place.
The boss’s wife, a completely lovely lady named Phyllis, had to go get something out of the pickup, and in her absence, the very tight wire gate had been closed. Knowing the gate was a tough one, she chose
to crawl through the fence. Being a resourceful ranch lady, she had set whatever it is she’d gone to get on the ground through the fence, then bent down to a reasonable height and started through the fence. It was terribly tight, and with new wire, the barbs were sharp. She was taking her time, trying not to get her shirt or pants caught in the fence.
Just as she was halfway through and her shirt had snagged on the fence mid-back, Bobbie spotted her.
Out of the bunch Bobbie came, with her head up and at a trot. Phyllis saw Bobbie, and struggled a bit
more, catching her pants on the fence as well. She was really stuck and though I was a ways off, I could
see her eyes getting bigger and bigger as Bobbie closed in on her. Phyllis was an experienced rancher and knew all about mean cows, so with Bobbie’s short ears and high way of carrying her head, I’m certain she felt doomed to die, stuck in the fence like a bug on a pin, as this cow barreled toward her.
I heard Phyllis let out an alarmed squeal just as Bobbie skidded to a stop by her and proceeded to lick
Phyllis’s face and arms thoroughly. A passerby helped Phyllis disengage from the fence and fend off the
overly friendly cow. As Phyllis staggered away, having just had what seemed like a brush with death,
Bobbie followed, hoping for some acknowledgement of her friendly gesture.
Bobbie never in her life ever hurt a soul, but one day, on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, she pert near scared a nice lady to death.

Posted in: Featured, Ranch Life


About Jan Swan Wood

Jan was raised on a ranch in far western South Dakota. She grew up horseback working all descriptions of cattle, plus sheep and horses. After leaving home she pursued a post-graduate study of cowboying and dayworking in Nebraska, New Mexico, Montana, Wyoming and South Dakota....

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