Someone Looking For These?

In previous years I had been doing most of the firewood bundling out in the bull pen barn. I had the Twister/bundler/wrapping machine set up so I could see a wide open view from the end of the barn that faces north. I could keep and eye on our resident bald eagles, the wild ducks that take refuge in the swamp at the far end of the bull pen, I could monitor the weather as the clouds swept across the sky, glimpse the elk herds as they trekked down from the hill and into the big field to feed, and could monitor the traffic along the county road. I was a pretty happy Gladys Cravitz type watching every movement of every person, critter and weather pattern.

This year, with the activity and changes going on in the bull barn, I have moved the whole operation out to the show barn so the bundling can continue without interruption. The open end of this barn faces east so I can see the hillside and elk better, once and a while see the eagles or ducks as they fly by, but I am turned away from the road and am hampered by cribs of firewood, stacks of hay and a wall to be able to see the traffic, a rain shower coming or what any of the cows are doing once they leave the loafing area of the barn. The walls of the barn keep me from hearing rigs as they pull into the driveway or when someone is calling my name (la, la, la, I can’t HEAR you, la, la, la…). I am in my own little world with ear buds plugged in most of the time with some very engaging novels filling my head. I lose track of time when out in this barn and many times Mike has to stop by between his tasks to tell me it is time to end bundling for the day and feed the cows.

Gladys Cravits would have been appalled at the obliviousness.

But the other day I happened to look up and around the cribs of wood and hay stack, out the heifer entrance of the barn, to see a very wiggly tree out in the corner of the garden. It had not been windy when I started bundling a couple of hours earlier, and this wiggling was very vigorous. I just had to investigate. When I walked out of the barn to see what was going on in the garden, I saw the heifer #61, one that we had weaned and moved over from the main herd in the last of the year weaning, at the base of the tree itching on the rough bark of the 15 foot plum tree and shaking the branches in the process. She had gotten out of the electric fence that protected the herd from just such an invasion. First order of business was to let the fence down so she could step back in with the two cows, two bigger heifers and 3T the little bull calf. The bundling task was abandoned while we took care of the situation.

Once secure, we started around the fences to see what caused them not to be electrified and thereby ineffective as a barrier.

One could purchase a fence tester to check the strength of the charge in the fence but we have always relied on a screwdriver for this job. We have a couple of them that are oversized, over a foot long with resin-type handles that we use to touch the hot wire to a metal fence post and observe the spark to tell how hot the fence is. This task can also be done with a long stem of grass or simply grabbing the fence but the screwdriver is much less a risk to getting the shock that sends a body into spasms.

Anyway, Mike was going along the county road and checking to see if the electric wire of the fence had gotten tangled up with the non-electrified barb wires since this happens on occasions when the snowplow goes by and throws great gloppy gobs of rock studded snow balls off the road and well past the ditch. About half-way down along the long fence Mike found the problem.

Apparently, from detritus we found, sometime during the two weeks of snow and ice we had, a vehicle had skidded off the road. Mike could see the tracks down into the shallow ditch where the rig clipped and bent  two metal T-posts and bending them before hitting and splitting a wooden anchor post that had been made out of a telephone pole and making it back onto the road and on their way toward Vernonia. The electric wire was tangled up in the leaning fence and rendering it useless. It was a surprise that none of the field inhabitants had realized the fence was dead long before heifer #61 had made it into the garden.

In the wide stretch of the debris field from the first T-post to the telephone pole/fence post,  we found litter of the human variety including a beer can, a broken headlight, a side mirror, lots of plastic bits and general refuse. There must have been quite a bit of damage on the vehicle but not enough to keep them from getting the heck out of the area without informing us of our new problem. The fence has been temporarily fixed and the cattle are once again secure. The day long task of repairing and replacing the damaged fence is on the list that has been growing over the wintertime.

I am going to have to hone my observation skills in order to keep track of the goings and comings a little better.