Lost Yearlings

Sunday was supposed to be an easy day.

I needed to move the yearlings, sort out a few steers to take to the processor and check on the cows in

the summer pasture. It was hot so I built water breaks into the schedule and figured we would be

finished early in the day.

I move my cows to a new pasture every Thursday. This schedule doesn’t meet the intensive grazing

strategy that grass gurus tout as best – some of them note that a 12-hour moving schedule optimizes

grass growth, but anything up to a 3-day schedule maximizes grazing efficiency. Even a 21-day rotation

provides enough rest for the grass to thrive.

The idea of a 12-hour moving schedule on this place sends me into a fit of giggles. These rolling hills and

my need to have a life beyond stringing electric fence make that suggestion utterly ridiculous. When

would I ride my horse?

But I can reserve Thursdays as Move Day. The cattle and sheep like to see new grass periodically. They

recognize our routine, seeming to know when it is Thursday and time to move. They see me and my

horse coming and wander toward the gate.

But our routine changed this week.

My daughter, Abby, and I are taking a trip to visit potential universities. We will be gone on Thursday. So

instead of moving the yearlings last Thursday, I delayed their new pasture until Sunday. I planned to

park the adventurous yearlings in a secure pasture in the middle of the ranch while we are gone.

Big mistake.

The sun beat down on our shoulders as we rode the horses out to gather the yearlings.

It didn’t take long to remember what heat feels like.

We found a handful of yearlings in the pasture. The rest were nowhere to be seen. It didn’t take long to

remember how yearlings act like high schoolers. This job might take longer than expected.

Abby glanced up at the horizon and spotted black ears. We turned the horses toward those ears. As we

rode closer, their tails flew into the air and I swear I heard one yell YOLO – You Only Live Once!

Thirty minutes later, we had another handful, but we were still missing about half of the yearlings.

Apparently, they moved themselves last Thursday.

Most likely, they decided to visit neighbors to the south or west. We checked fences and gates in both

directions, stopping for drinks at the water trough, but found not even a track.

Then we spotted black-hided dots far in the distance. The sun glinted off some metal near those black-

hided dots. I wondered if my wandering yearlings had caught the attention of a farmer with a ripe,

unharvested crop. I checked my phone for messages.

Nothing. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or worried that I still couldn’t find my yearlings.

We took the few compliant teenagers to the corral and jumped in the pickup for faster surveillance. As

we cruised the county roads, we spotted a string of black cattle in the distance. No roads led near them.

This is horse country.

Our horses found the gates we needed.

I wasn’t the top headline on the daily police report.

We watched antelope find their personal comfort zone about a half mile from us.

I didn’t receive a nasty phone call from a neighbor.

We enjoyed kicking up a mule deer buck.

I did not find the yearlings.

I spent most of the night trying to think like a yearling.

First thing in the morning, my neighbor to the west helped. My yearlings were in his yard.

I should have moved the yearlings last Thursday.