Back when we first started Twenty Nickels, we promised to show some of our messier moments as we, a formerly urban-dwelling couple, navigate ranch life.
Take, for example, the touching photo above of Noelle sunning on the hill with little Francesca when she wasn’t even weaned yet. They are perched not far from a cattle gate we have, closing them off to a large hill at the rear of our home that encloses important things like the water and propane tanks, vehicles, and landscaping. Just because it’s closed off doesn’t mean the overgrown grass looks any less tempting to the herd. We know the fence lines can be moved to let them graze it down every year or two. The lamentable fact is, we don’t actually know how. Hiring someone to do it seems like quite a production, so naturally, we’ve procrastinated.
Well, one summer evening not long ago, we had quite the surprise. Moe was sitting in his office with the windows open and heard some loud smacking sounds outside, much louder than a deer might make nibbling olive buds off a tree. He was shocked to find all eight Longhorns right outside.
Turns out they had been enjoying a little sunset cocktail hour right under our noses for some time before we had any idea they were there. Rather than figure out how that happened, we jumped into action to round them up and send them to their proper territory before they could do any damage.
The above video cracks me up because Moe’s cattle calls have absolutely zero effect. You can see the little whites of their eyes reflecting in the light of our driveway cam. Other than that, they have NO intention of moving. Meanwhile I had run over to the electric fence that runs along the perimeter of the house as their usual deterrent. I powered it down, unhooked the wires, and crossed my fingers that Plucky, as the alpha male, might start to lead the pack through the opening. But apparently he wasn’t comfortable leaving by any route other than the one they’d come in through. 😂 Poor Venti, our intrepid Boxer-mix puppy, wanted to help so badly but we couldn’t risk losing track of her in the pitch black night. Instead she made her way out into our enclosed “catio” and barked at everyone outside incessantly.
Ultimately, the successful approach was firing up the pickup truck. Moe was able to rattle them enough to start running and then drive them all the way back up the hill and back through the cattle gate. (We won’t mention that “someone” had forgotten to chain the gate earlier that afternoon after taking the truck up and retrieving our trail cam SD Card.) It’s water under the bridge now, or steers past the crossroad? The main thing is that nobody found their way to the neighbors or country roads—this time.
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