‘Working cattle’ covers a lot

Hope A. Smith
Published: March 6, 2008

"Working cattle." That seems like a punch line to some bad joke. But that's exactly what I helped do this past Sunday.

     My mom and stepfather had asked if I was available, and shrugging off housework yet again, I said yes. To be quite honest - and don't tell my mom this - I enjoy doing it. This is one of those things I wished I'd told my dad when he was still with us. Of course, in my dad's typical fashion, he would've said, "What, are you @!#* nuts-"

The term "working cattle" is really a catch-all term. It can apply to anything, from ear-tagging to giving vaccinations to castration (eeewww).

I love working with animals, and my childhood dream was to be a veterinarian. The stupid teenager side of me thought, "Jeez, I can't handle another ten or so years of school." Oh, is hindsight ever 20/20. A real goober when it comes to animals, I sound like a loon talking to them in a gentle, almost baby-talk way.

This past Sunday, I was in charge of letting the gate down once the heifer/baby bull/other sort of bovine was in the holding chute (disclaimer - the term "cow" as it is referred to in this column is for any sort of bovine). Then we'd let them in, one at a time, and I had to make sure they were inside the squeeze chute before shutting the gate behind them.

Like a seamless assembly line, a friend named Steve would gather up about three or four at a time. I let them through the chutes, my mom would record their tag number and let the guys know what vaccinations, etc. they needed. Then another friend, Bob, and my stepfather, Gary, would attend to said cow. After this process, the cow was let into either the barnyard or a separate corral (i.e., calves that were ready to be weaned from their mothers).

Needless to say, there's usually some sort of mishap that occurs when you try to run through 160 head of cattle in a day. Fortunately for us, the planets must have all been in alignment, because except for about two or three that got out of hand and escaped only to be recaptured, we had no unfortunate events.

"Unfortunate events" occur occasionally. You see, the cow- as are a lot of animals -is unpredictable. Putting them through a process like this, they can get stressed out.

I imagine I'd get stressed out too, if I were out in the pasture enjoying a nice 55-degree day, chewing my cud, minding my own business, and someone tempts me with the promises of a hay treat, only to corral me up and send me through a chute to get shots and possibly a castration! Note to reader - I don't do the castration.

I don't want to do the castration and I can't even watch.
But I'm salivating when I think of the eventual steak that this now-steer will become. Not that I immediately think of that when this fella is getting, um, fixed.

When I was a kid, we'd have a particular Saturday when the cattle would be worked, and my parents turned it into a full-on cookout and party.

My dad and some of his cohorts would saddle up the horses and have a rodeo of sorts. They'd actually rope the cattle and perform their duties, then put the cattle back out to pasture. A bunch of our friends and relatives would come out, and it was the best time. And no, to answer your question, I never fell for the "mountain oyster" trick. Gross.

This process can be an expensive one, that's for sure. A bottle of the Ivormec used to prevent parasites (both internal and external) comes in at a hefty $250. The vaccinations used, including Cattlemaster Gold (probably named because of the cost) and other types for pinkeye and a variety of respiratory ailments, come in around $500, depending on the amount of cattle you're working.

Any other miscellaneous items, such as ear tags and food additives, can drive the total amount up to $1,500.
When you figure we worked 120 head of cattle, that's not chump change. And no small feat (or hoof in this case).

Hope A. Smith is an
independent columnist and
resident of Orange County.
Her column appears on Friday.
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