Forest service considering explosives to get rid of frozen cows in Colorado cabinClick here for original story
Just imagine the forest rangers standing there, looking in the door. Bill looks at Bob and says, "We really weren't trained for this."
No, you weren't. And neither were we. But we understand. Honest we do.
Welcome to our world. Almost everyday, cattle producers stand there and say the same thing:
The scene goes something like this: Cattle producer gets up in the morning and thinks it's going to be a good day. Actually, it's that kinda optimism that keeps him getting up everyday, but whatever.
He goes outside and things appear to be fine. His heart rate is at a normal pace. But then, like an old dog that senses a storm is coming, he stops. Something doesn't 'feel' right. So he goes to investigate - his cattleman DNA knows instinctively where to take him - and there she is. A cow in a predicament. Heart rate accelerates to 140 bpm.
Picture it: hands on hips, head tilted slightly in one direction, one hand moves up to remove ball cap while the other hand scratches head hard. Then as the ballcap is being screwed back on, the producer says, "What the hell?"
If cows did the same thing more than once, life would be easy. But they are like teenagers that way. The older ones make mistakes and the younger ones seem to learn from it and they make different mistakes, so everyday is a new adventure.
Knowing how to "get stuck" is in the DNA of cows. Clustering into a building? Heck that happens all the time. At least they were dead. Imagine if Bill and Bob had showed up and tried to get them out while they were still alive? Two shadowy figures appear in the doorway, trained only in forest conservation, start waving their arms and yelling . . .
Dead cows, they're the easy ones to deal with. It's the live ones that cause the heart to start racing. Put your hand up if you've ever: tried to get a live cow, stuck up to her shoulders in mud, from a dugout? Or out of thick, snowy bush after she decided that would be a good place to calve during a storm? Or up off her back, when she's stuck lying downhill, already starting to bloat? Or when she's wedged her belly between two close grown poplars at the edge of the pasture? Or wrapped herself tight in barbed wire after going through a fence.
And exactly how do you get an old car tire off the bull's head when he's already scared and mad and because the tire is blocking his peripheral vision, all he's got to focus on is you . . .
Take that, Mr. Forest Ranger.
So how would a cattle producer get six dead cows out of a cabin?
Not sure, but I know what his first thought would be: "Man I hope those aren't my cows."
Then he'd probably call the neighbour and say, "you gotta come see this." Then they'd stand there, twisting their caps from side to side, figuring out a solution, which in the end, would amount to another red total on that bottom line.
And I do know one more thing for sure.
Nobody in their right mind would ever give us dynamite.