How to Catch a Mad Cow for Dummies

4:22 PM Wednesday, May 14, 2014 – Ring, ring, ring … “hello”.  Exasperated and out of breath, Granddaughter Jacqi wails “Gr … ma, nee … huh … uua … cow … huh … ou!!!  Come … huh … na!!!  Hur!!!”  Translation – Grandma, we need your help now!  The cows got out!  Come right now.  Hurry!  Immediately we rush up the stairs, hop in the car and are quickly en route toward their farm, a half mile across the highway from the sprawling city.  Surely, we could help corral the runaway cows quickly and be back at home soon.  On the other hand, neither grandma nor I had ever corralled a steer in our lives, so the request from our experienced offspring for help should have been a clue to the mission that loomed ahead.  Reaching the highway, Yvonne’s cell phone rings … it’s daughter Brandi, also frantic.  “Mom, turn around, turn around!!  We’re back here in the field across from your house.”  Grandma Yvonne spins a quick u-turn and creeps slowly back down the road.  “There they are” I said, “they just turned toward our house … Go … Go!”  Moments later, we are back on our own road.  “There is the cow straight ahead. It just jumped over the gate onto the golf course … Go … Go … Stop” I exclaimed.  I jumped out and joined granddaughter Sammi in hot pursuit.

Ironically, this calf became the proud possession of granddaughter Sammi three months prior, during the “Catch a Calf” event at the National Western Stock Show in Denver.  The exciting event features about fifteen teenagers with rope in tow, chasing calves around the rodeo ring in hopes of catching his/her next livestock project.  It is also a fine spectator event, full of screaming encouragement from parents and frivolous laughter at near misses and eventual seizing of an animal already much larger than the contestant. Two of our granddaughters, Alli and Sammi, participated, both enjoying the bounty of a prize calf and just taking ownership a few weeks prior.  How ironic that at this specific moment, both calves are again the target of a new “Catch a Calf” event.  However, this time the festivities take place on the free range neighborhoods and golf courses on the outskirts of Longmont, CO.  The posse is forming and would soon measure in the dozens, including neighbors, law enforcement officials, strangers, golfers, cowboys on horseback and fellow livestock aficionados.

The race is on, as I hop the golf course gate and follow the running bovine across fairway #5, Sammi a few steps behind.  My lungs already burning from the run, my previously pulled calf tightens quickly and my arthritic knee aches.  My heart skips a beat as I see hundreds of little yellow balls everywhere.  Indeed, this calf decided to lead us through the middle of the driving range.  A quick glance to the left during mid stride and I am staring at approximately twenty bewildered golfers, with clubs in hand.  Hopefully they are staring back at me in amusement, rather than swinging away from about 100 yards at this delightful moving target.  Understanding my pending danger, I pick up the pace substantially until I notice the yellow balls becoming more sparse.  The Mad Cow escapee is now about 200 yards away and I watch him cross over another major city street headed toward the 17^th green.  By the time I arrive at the street, I can neither breath nor speak.  The cow is out of sight, but several amazed golfers are pointing in the direction of the course.

I notice a grounds keeper on a maintenance cart and quickly ask if he has seen any cows around here lately.  He had certainly been expecting that question and was now likely wondering if this southern hillbilly had lost his mind and posed an eminent threat to his safety.  With an odd, startled look, he tells me to hop in and we are again underway.  As I glance to my right, I see a cart heading at full throttle in our same direction, opposite of the normal flow of the golf course.  Seeing a single lady in a purple shirt as the driver, I imagine this may be a fellow posse member.  Could it be daughter Brandi?  “Follow that cart!”, I exclaimed to my new chauffeur.

Past the 17^th, then the 16^th fairways and into the new Harmony subdivision, we are joined by a well-intentioned young man in an older model pickup truck.  Corralling the animal with a golf cart, pickup truck and a maintenance cart proves to be futile, as the Mad Cow makes hoof prints across front yards and between cars.  At one point a lady stops and gets out of her car, exclaiming “I thought I was delusional, but there really is a cow in our neighborhood”.  Now about a half mile off the golf course premises, I know the “dashing” lady in the golf cart is Brandi.  Believing Brandi is much more devoted to the cause at hand than the grounds keeper, I thank him and the gentleman in the truck, and jump in the golf cart that Brandi has somehow commandeered from the municipal course.

4:45 PM “Where is Joe” (our son-in-law), I ask Brandi, certain that Joe will know exactly what to do to get the situation in control.  “I wish I knew”, she says, fueling the continued anxiety.  Brandi slowly drives the cart around the animal, now a short jog away from Highway 66 and a potential rush hour disaster for an unsuspecting driver.  The tired cow seems approachable, so we slowly park between the animal and the highway.  Moments later, the spooked creature makes a break for freedom.  Brandi speeds the cart forward, but we are too late.  We cringe with apprehension as he crosses Highway 66 for the second time, between two cars, narrowly avoiding disaster for cow and car.

5:00 PM Across the highway, we ignore the no trespassing sign and drive the cart onto the organic farm property.  A friendly worker there points in the direction of the Mad Cow fugitive and tells us there is a dirt road along the side of the field that goes to the north.  “Thank you, sir!”  About a half mile north the Mad Cow is trotting east again and the road abruptly ends.  We are forced to turn into the cultivated field, where rows of plants crown each row of dirt about one foot high.  Driving east along the plowed rows of crops is easy enough, but the cow is headed northeast.  So eventually we must turn and head north.  The golf cart bounces literally a foot in the air over each mound, spread about two feet apart.  My head pounds against the top of the cart and we are both nearly thrown from the vehicle.  Frequently the cart gets stuck between the mounds.  I soon decide it is better for me to simply walk behind the vehicle, pushing when it gets stuck and also reducing the chance of concussion from constant head banging on the cart roof in the dangerous interior.  I am astounded by Brandi remaining steadfastly in the driver’s seat, despite bouncing uncontrollably, sometimes slamming her head and shoulders into the top of the cart.

5:15 PM In the distance, Joe, Sammi, and Jacqi have hitched a ride with an acquaintance in a pickup.  Soon they are walking across the field with ropes and lassos in hand, seemingly increasing the likelihood that the ordeal will soon be over.  Yvonne, too, is in the distance driving along a county road, waiting for the next move.  By now, we have meandered perhaps three miles, but things are looking up with the posse converging on the target.  Unbeknownst to us, granddaughter Kassi, Alli and Joe’s dad, Dave, are still engaged in corralling the other calf, which has been courteous enough to remain closer to home.

Exasperated and searching for solutions, our minds wander with questions, ideas and suggestions. Where are the fences around here?  It would be so much easier if we were in cattle country instead of corn and hay fields.  I ask Joe if he knows someone with a tranquilizer gun.  Distraught and frustrated by the Mad Cow antics, Joe quickly replies “I would rather have a real gun right now”, to which I might have agreed, though Sammi would likely not have been thrilled with that solution.

5:25 PM The rampant beast has now crossed Vermillion Road, a mile north of Highway 66.  Passing through a farm house and adjoining field in the golf cart, we are acutely aware of the Prairie dog holes that frequently jolt us under the wheels.  However, approaching the tiring animal, perhaps our opportunity was at hand.  Brandi handed me a lasso and continues driving closer.  Startled, and void of confidence in this sudden ranch task, I most chivalrously said to my daughter “Let me drive and you handle the rope”.  But my plea was quickly and adamantly rejected. The last time I threw a lasso at anything, I was nine years old, dreaming about John Wayne with childhood friends. None the less, I make a gallant and surprising narrow miss effort with the rope one time, hitting the Mad Cow on the side of the neck.  Spooked further by the close encounter, it bolts farther north.

Soon we encounter a no trespassing sign and briefly contemplate our knowledge of the law and understanding of rural ranchers and their motives for posting such a sign.  Fortunately, the nice lady at the house is keenly aware of the dilemma and motions us onward, pointing toward the runaway Mad Cow.  However, we quickly encounter an irrigation ditch, unable to continue with the golf cart.  We backtrack to the road, as we see Joe and the girls again in the friend’s truck in pursuit on a dirt path.

The Mad Cow is closing in on a large horse farm, which is hardly a comforting thought, considering that the girls previously stated their horses are what originally spooked the cows.  Regardless of the horse perils ahead, somehow the many fences are a sight for sore eyes.

6:30 PM Brandi and I track the golf cart one mile east then north to the horse farm.  Again, the gracious property owner is accommodating, but the horses seem nervous around the Mad Cow and the vehicles.  The horse farm owner mentions that her horses aren’t particularly fond of cows, which crushes our previously growing optimism.  Fatigued and scared, the Mad Cow remains on a dirt road, horses galloping excitedly only 50 feet away.  We now have ropes and lassos, one was borrowed from our neighbor, who saw the steer in her front yard and offered up the lasso at the beginning of the event … doesn’t everyone have a lasso sitting around the house?

Feeling cornered, the Mad Cow attempts to run through a large steel fence with very thick wires.  The abrupt collision cuts his head open, as well as, his neck.  Backpedaling and stunned, he stands still for a few minutes contemplating his next move.  Both food and water offered are no consolation for the terrified beast.  Suddenly, he dashes along a fence toward Joe, who skillfully throws a rope, just before stepping out of the way of the charging animal.  The rope connects with a leg and for a brief second appears to offer the opportunity we need.  Joe holds on tightly, but is jerked sharply about ten feet until he can grasp no longer.

The latest surge puts the Mad Cow inside a fence with the horses.  About 15 horses are now investigating the new creature in their home, which amplifies the panic within the Mad Cow.  Hastily and without hesitation, he charges through a barbed wire fence like it was thread, headed back south.

6:45 PM Returning to our golf cart, we are rapidly running out of juice, but still in hot pursuit.  The animal is headed west toward the busy Highway 287.  Both of us battered and bruised, Brandi heads to the open road where the commandeered golf cart can be temporarily discarded.  I jump out of the cart and am somehow able to head off the mad cow back to the east.  Still trotting along in my pitiful arthritic run, I look to the left for Brandi and fail to notice a prairie dog hole, which unexpectedly swallows my foot.  With a freshly re-injured calf, I hobble slowly to the car that Yvonne has waiting nearby.

The Mad Cow is headed south again, intent on crossing Highway 66 for the third time.  We are somehow able to four wheel our SUV on dirt roads to head off the mad cow from a dangerous highway demise.  Additional attempts to coax the animal with celery and water are a fruitless waste.

By now the Boulder County Sheriff has been called and a deputy joins the effort.  We track back to the northeast and arrive at yet another farm house.  The exhausted Mad Cow is carefully and slowly surrounded by the sheriff deputy and three more of us.  The cow bolts right toward me as I bravely and heroically dive aside at the last second.  On the other side of the house, Yvonne and Brandi also attempt to thwart the animal’s procession, with Yvonne stretching her arms wide in the best defensive football stance one could imagine.  Brandi hollers “Mom get out of the way!” and thankfully Yvonne complies with the wise instructions of her concerned daughter.

7:15 PM The trail now leads a short distance down a small county road and into one more farm.  Joe’s brother, a Colorado State Patrol officer, also was called and arrives at the scene.  We now have two members of law enforcement, two experienced 4-H parent/leaders, two experienced 4-Hers, two bewildered grandparents, a farm owner at the latest farm and even an experienced cowboy on horseback galloping down the road, having heard about the situation.  As the entire gang contemplates the options, the Mad Cow glimpses two more cows in the nearby field.  Enamored by the familiarity of his own species, he makes a sudden rush and darts between the metal poles of the fence gate.  Unfortunately, the poles are strong and about 18 inches apart, while the belly of the cow is at least 30 inches wide.  The inevitable result is a Mad Cow, lodged helplessly in the gate, squirming and thrashing in desperation.  Yvonne turns to me, horrified that the Mad Cow appears to have met its certain demise.  For perhaps a minute or more, we watch the desperate cow kicking and thrashing in vain.  Then miraculously, the Mad Cow’s determination and strength eventually results in the most impressive contortionist act ever witnessed by those in attendance, as the Mad Cow pops through the gate.

Thankfully for all, the two cows in this pasture are calm and well behaved, offering a soothing tranquilizer for the Mad Cow and a fine culmination to a very long afternoon.  The following Image shows the entire Mad Cow route.

In the end:

The farm owner offered to keep the Mad Cow for a few days until it calmed down.

We returned the commandeered golf cart on a flat bed trailer, with dead battery, covered in mud and likely with broken shocks, shortly after dusk.  The golf course attendants were happy to get the cart back and also very intrigued and jovial about the unusual excitement of the day.

Back at our house, the next day we found deep hoof prints across our front lawn where the Mad Cow decided to pay grandma and grandpa a very brief visit.

The Mad Cow was returned by horse trailer to the Hill farm a few days later, where it remained for a brief period (locked in the trailer).  It was then returned to the sponsor, believing that the devil possessed Mad Cow was unsuitable for domestic showing at the National Western Stock Show.

Sammi, extremely disappointed about the lost opportunity and the wild fiasco of that day, received a different cow the following year from the same sponsor.  Sammi and her well behaved replacement cow went on to win First Place in her class at the National Western Stock Show, an accomplishment she can appreciate for eternity.

Alli’s calf behaved well after removal of the Mad Cow and she showed hers at the next National Western Stock Show.

It took months or years before this wild adventure could be viewed by many of the participants in the comical light portrayed by this story.  The thrilling escapade is now a treasured memory none of us will ever forget.

Despite the Mad Cow incident, the Catch a Calf program of the National Western Stock Show is a tremendous benefit for youth involvement and education in raising livestock!

2016 National Western Stock Show Highlights