Dog brains vs Man brains…..no contest.

It’s finally spring and time for pairs to go to grass. I’ve got a set ready to work tomorrow and thought I’d bring them in to the corrals tonight to save time in the morning. I don’t know why I thought that, being home alone, no help in sight except for the dogs, but I decided to take a stab at it. 35 pairs were strung out about a half mile from the house, with the farthest away naturally being the calves. Jones (actual cow dog) and I walked out and around them. He kept looking at me all the way out there like, “why don’t you ride a horse?” That’s another story for another time. I explained it to him, but we had time on our walk. He didn’t believe me, but the time passed more quickly. I have to admit my surprise, but we slowly and surely bunched them up and pointed them all toward the house. Halfway in, we got to the cedar windbreak and like good cows, they split. All the cows but one, along with about ten calves went on the west side of the trees, while one cow and 25 or so calves went on the east side. This wasn’t in my plans, although my plans, as usual, were pretty fluid. I walked along the tree line talking to both sets of calves while Jones trotted out in the middle of the calving pen to keep the calves close to the fence. Good dog. The whole group came out of the north end of the trees close to the corrals. I had the gate open, but little chance of pointing 35 milling pair towards it let alone coaxing them through it. This is where my planning was a bit weak. I hadn’t really thought about this stage of the cattle drive because I really didn’t believe I’d get this far. I stood there, still in the trees myself, a little perplexed and making up plan C. A couple cows decide they were bored there and were going to head back out. I gave a little whistle and waved to turn them back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jones’ ears go down. He knifed through the trees and hit those cows heals. I had visions of nuclear devastation and cows and calves going every direction but in. *Language warning* I ran out of the trees screaming, “Down, Down, Down, Dammmmmittttt Jones, you Son of a ……GOOD DOG!!!!!!” Seventy tails, straight up in the air, went right in the gate. I did a little happy dance, closed the gate, and told Jones how good of a dog he was, which he already knew.