Circle M Farm

Yeah, we have a fair amount of medical mysteries here on the farm, but we have an equally bewildering share of straight-up mechanical mysteries. Tonight, for instance, my husband Shannon headed off to a parents’ meeting at the high school, only to find himself facing down three large steers at the end of our drive. Our steers.

The girls and I were cleaning up dinner in the kitchen when we heard Shannon yelling from outside. Thinking the worst, like he’d slipped on the very slick ice and thrown his back out, I tore out of the house without a coat. “The cows are out!” he yelled from the end of the drive. “They’re down here. And I only see three!”

We’ve had cows out plenty of times before. Most of their fences are electric, and those that aren’t are flimsy broke-down barbed wire. But their pastures are behind the house, and normally when they get out they just wander together into the neighbor’s field next door. One group from a few years ago did go exploring for four days, ending up several miles away, sharing meals at a bulk feeder with another farmer’s beef herd. This sort of escapade is pretty common entertainment in these parts and from the stories we’ve heard, we have definitely had it easy.

Right now, though, we’re supposed to have four steers. And we had no idea why they’d be way out in front of the house, strolling along beside the road. When Shan encountered them, three were walking toward him from the end of the drive. Were they returning from a walk on the road? Even though no one bats an eye when they see animals out around here, the county sheriff will fine you quite heavily if they’re spotted on the road. And we live really close to town.

Well, I went back into the house to gather clothes and reinforcements. You never know how long a round-up will take, and I wanted to be dressed right for an ordeal in 15-degree weather. I put on one of our dorky headlamps, herded out all three teenagers, sent them down the front drive toward Shannon and ran to the bulk grain bin to grab a bucket of corn for bait. By the time I got in front of the house, Shan had yelled and waved three leaping steers (they seem to really enjoy these cowboy shows) up the drive and into the front yard. The fourth was quietly munching in our perennial garden by the house.

With me in front waving corn and the kids and Shan behind waving arms, we made our way with the steers through the garden, underneath the clothesline, around three swings hanging from our giant maple, and finally past the house until we arrived at the back pasture gate – with a broken latch – opened IN toward the field. We’ll never come up with a satisfactory explanation for that. But we will get a good night’s sleep tonight.