We built a small corral at the intersection of four pastures. It’s way out back, and we never had a good way to catch a cow that needed help out there.
I checked the cows late one afternoon. A cow was trying to calve, and looked like she had been straining for awhile, but nothing was showing. We gave her an hour and checked her again. Sure enough, one foot was sticking out, but not the other one.
We decided to get her in. We were excited to use our new corral. Two ATVs, a jeep, low-stress stockmanship, and we had her in the corral, barely. She was starting to get hot. She circled the corral a few times, charged at the gate I was standing by, put her nose over the top board, and jumped and pushed. Once the board broke, her body weight broke down the wire panel, and she was over and out.
“Well, she’s on her own now. No sense getting killed over her.”
The next morning, Dad drove back from checking the cows.
“Is she dead?”
“No, and she’s got a live calf, runnin’ around healthy.”
“Do you think we were just too early?”
“No, I think the calf got straightened out when she jumped the fence.”