East Texas Cow Hunt Bizarre
Episode For Dryland Cowboy

By Curt Brummett

Have you ever noticed that when things go wrong, they just keep going wrong?

I hired out to a cowboy in East Texas to do day work. I won't use his real name, because he mentioned physical violence if I did.

The first day was the start of several days of major screw-ups. But just on this one place. Or, I should say, just for this one man.

Gary catches cows for a living. He lives in Van, Texas, and his services are in demand (a lot). He has some sure-nuff good dogs and one good horse. He also has a dog called Elvis and another horse called a lot of different things. I was fortunate enough to get to ride the other horse.

Well, we went to pen a set of cows for this old boy somewhere around Edom. I have no idea where I was or how I got there, but we arrived when we were supposed to and proceeded to try and locate the cows.

Gary is well known in this part of the world, and he is a cowboy. He understands cattle and is pretty good to be around. He was telling me about some of the wild ones he had caught in the past.

Pretty impressive.

We unloaded the horses the dogs and proceeded to hunt the cows. We rode for quite a while and hadn't seen nothing but two creeks and a bunch of trees. He commented on the fact that he was sure we were in the right place. I didn't say anything, ‘cause I didn't know where we were. We rode some more.

After what seemed like a half day had gone by, Gary decided to go to a phone and call just to make sure we were on the right place (very impressive).

We traveled back across country to get to the pickup, then drove down the road to a gas station, and he called. The man told 'im we had been in the right pasture; we just didn't look close enough.

Right across from the gas station was the pasture we had been in.

We went back to the pens, unloaded and restarted the hunt for the elusive bovine beasts in their natural habitat. We found 'em. They were right across from the gas station and probably watched old Gary make the call to find out where they were.

Gary was not a happy camper. I mean, it was my first time to ever work with 'im and I sure didn't mean to upset ‘im when I asked if he had been hunting cows very long.

Well, we start the cows to the pen and had to drop a calf that was just too sick to keep up. We figured we would come load 'im in the pickup after we penned the cows. Good thinking.

I should 'ave tied the sick calf down but didn't. We penned everything, then came back for the calf. For a sick calf, this little sucker could mortally fly. He ran through my first loop but I got 'im caught on number two. ‘Course, the little snot had gotten his rest and pert-near outran me and old Red. This extra amount of exercise didn't help the little thing.

We loaded 'im in the trailer and took 'im to the pens. As we got to the pens, so did the man who owned the cattle.

We unloaded the calf just in time for the boss to walk up and see the last breath of air the calf took in. Yep, the calf had very little interest in staying alive. He was graveyard dead.

The boss wasn't all that upset. He said he should 'ave checked a little closer and doctored ‘im before he got in that bad a shape. We didn't mention that we had to run 'im pert-near a hundred yards before we could catch 'im.

The next day, we went back to the same place to pen 80 white Bramers and their calves. We had to cross a creek that only had two really bad crossings. These Bramers had never seen anyone a’horseback, and they really didn't enjoy the dogs all that much. We got all but two cows across the creek and things went downhill from there. We ended up leaving these two because it was getting dark and our horses were given smooth out (one more black mark).

I mentioned to Gary that we weren't having all that much good luck with this man's cattle. I got a dirty look.

The next day, we were back again for the same man and he wanted us to pen two sets of cows and calves. The first set penned with no trouble at all. We should 'ave quit for the day.

The man said he definitely wanted that big Brangus bull. No problem.

There are a lot of hay meadows in this country, and around the hayfields are a lot of trees. They call 'em thickets. I call 'em forests.

The bull escaped and made it to the thicket. No problem; we would just come back the next day and get 'im.

Well, the second bunch managed to leave a calf hid out in the trees. We went back to try and find 'im but had no luck. So we turned the cow out and we would come get her and her calf along with the bull the next day.

Seemed like a good idea at the time.

The next day we went for the bull first. After three hours of dogs on 'im and Gary trying to get close to 'im, the bull made it plumb out of the pasture into the neighbor’s and another thicket. No problem. We would just go get the cow and calf.

We finally located the cow and calf, and they located a trail through a very thick thicket. I circled around to keep 'em from doubling back across the trail on the back side of the thicket.

I couldn't hear anyone coming. I was sitting, trying to figure out where everyone was when I glanced back towards the road just in time to see Gary and Wayne headed that way. The calf had escaped and beat them to the fence on the road. Naturally, he jumped the fence and got into a really thick thicket.

The cow did the same thing, only (typical woman, I might add) she went the other direction. Not a bad day: we had lost a bull, a cow, and a calf — each in a different pasture. I asked Gary if he was considering turning down the next job offer from this man.

Because I’d been keeping a mental tally. Since I went to work for Gary, just for this one man alone, we had killed one, lost five and almost not found 60. This would not look good on a resumé, so I took off and went to Victoria for a couple of days and Gary got three other men to help catch this bull.

After four hours of dogs and cowboys, the bull finally came out of the trees and one of the riders got a rope on 'im. The bull drug the cowboy back to the trees. Gary got a rope on 'im and then Wayne got a rope on 'im, then Freddie got a rope on 'im. Then the bull committed suicide by drowning himself when he fell off into the creek, dragging two horses with 'im. This was one big bull.

The man who owned the bull mentioned the fact that things like that happen. He then told Gary to go ahead and try for the cow and the calf.

Gary asked 'im if he had lost his mind. They got the cow and calf.

I was beginning to wonder if I might be some sort of jinx for Gary or the cowman, but when Gary told me about how much trouble they had when I wasn't there, I felt a lot better.

Gary told me that if I had 'ave been there when that goofy bull committed suicide, he would 'ave fired me on the spot. I mean, after all, he would have to blame it on somebody. And me being the low man on the totem pole, not to mention being in on all the rest of the screw-ups, it would just seem like the natural thing to do.

I felt a lot better. It was the first time I ever didn't get fired because I didn't show up for work.