Purpose

The last few months, Knockout (my 7-yo AQHA quarter horse gelding) and I have been spending a lot of time checking cows and checking fence. Most weekday evenings we do a quick check before dark.  Most weekend mornings we do a more relaxed and thorough check, spending a little more time getting acquainted with each cow.

It would sound a lot cooler if I said we’ve been working cows…but that might be a bit misleading.  We’re not out there roping, branding, or doctoring cows.  In general, we’re not even moving cows…though we have started playing with gathering and pushing a little bit just to get a feel for it.  We even pushed a few calves back into the pasture after they got out, the other day.  Most of the time, we just ride around making sure all the cows look healthy and sound, read ear tag numbers to check off my list, and count the calves to make sure everyone is accounted for.  Then we ride the fence to make sure it’s in good repair…and ride by the electric fence chargers to make sure they’re clicking and flashing like they’re supposed to be.

It’s pretty simple stuff. I suspect this is the sort of stuff that once made up the lifestyle of a historical cow-boy.  Before the dangerous Texas cattle drives through Indian Territory added the sense of adventure, and before the dime novels romanticized the western cowboy lifestyle, a cow-boy was simply a boy who took care of the cows…much like a shepherd takes care of sheep.

That’s what Knockout and I have been doing the last few months. We check cows.

I’ve been amazed at how checking cows has changed the dynamic of our rides. We used to ride the same pastures and woods trails we’re riding now.  Previously, though, the focus was on us and our teamwork.

Sure, I enjoyed the beauty of nature as we went, and we would sometimes stop to watch the calves play. However, my main focus was on Knockout.  Was Knockout responding promptly to my cues?  Was Knockout keeping his attention on me?  Was Knockout responsive to my body language?  Was Knockout tense or was he relaxed as we rode?  Was Knockout compliant or resistant?  Was Knockout traveling in straight lines at constant rates of speed?

Then there was also a lot of focus on myself. Were my hands light on the reins?  Did I have plenty of slack in the reins?  Was I practicing good rein management?  Were my cues light?  Was my timing good?  Was I carrying an independent seat?  Was I dropping all pressure when headed in the desired direction?  Was my body positioned facing the direction I wanted to go and eyes focused on a distant goal point?

Similarly, Knockout’s main focus was on me and my cues…except when he was focused on where he wanted to go…like back home. Or when he was focused on what he could startle at…like my helmet brushing a branch as we rode under it.  When these things happened, my focus became making sure Knockout’s focus returned to me.

Now, none of these are bad things. For the stage we were at, they were necessary areas of focus.  Furthermore, they have never stopped being necessary.  I still pay attention to these things…but now they’re more in the background…not subconscious but not at the forefront of my focus, either.

Now my primary focus is on the cows and fencing. Where is the herd?  Is the herd together or scattered?  What is my best approach to make sure I check each cow?  What is my best route thru the herd as I check ear tags?  Which ear tags can I check off from a distance just by knowing the markings of individual cows?  What is my best approach to each cow, to get a good look at her ear tag without spooking her into turning away from me or walking off?  Are any cows hidden behind that wall of brush near the back fence line?  Are any cows lying down in the shade of the woods?  Why am I coming up one cow short in my count?  Where is the missing cow hidden…or did I just overlook her as I rode through the herd?

Likewise while checking fence, I’m focused on seeing a thin wire. Is it tight or sagging?  If it is sagging, where’s the break?  Is the wire on each post insulator?  If not, I need to dismount to put the wire back in place at each fence post.  Is anything shorting the fence out?  Does that fallen branch need to be moved?  Why isn’t the electric fence charger ticking?  Is the battery connection loose?  When did we last charge the battery?

Now, behind all that, I’m still riding. I’m still doing rein management and hopefully using appropriate pressure with good timing.  But that is no longer in the forefront of my thoughts.

And you know what? As my focus has changed, Knockout’s focus has begun to change, too.  He’s no longer looking for a chance to go back home.  We’re riding through rougher terrain with more high brush and low branches than we ever did before, yet Knockout rarely startles at anything.  Like myself, Knockout is focused on the cows.  As I leave one cow and turn to head toward another, Knockout is already looking to see which cow we’re approaching next.  As we approach a cow, Knockout is eagerly waiting to see if we’re going to direct the cow somewhere or just read an ear tag and ride on.

Knockout loves directing cows! We’re not very good at it, yet, but he sure loves doing it.

As we work together, Knockout and I are both learning to plan approach angles and speed. We’re learning to adjust our speed to intercept a moving cow without spooking her.  When pushing a cow, we’re learning to be aware of speed, flight zone, and balance point.  We’re learning to trust each other to do our jobs even as we learn together and fill in for each other.

While checking fence, Knockout has begun to keep one eye on the wire just as I am. He knows to stay near the fence line without getting too close.  He is beginning to learn when something is wrong with the fence wire we are going to stop for me to dismount and correct the issue.  And he has learned to stand patiently ground-tied while I fix the fence.

I’ve also noticed I have less tendency to micromanage than before. When we’re tracking a cow, I’m likely to just let Knockout go, confident he knows what to do.  When we’re checking fence, if I can see Knockout is paying attention to tracking beside the fence, I’m likely to just let him go, confident he knows to follow the wire.  When fixing fence, I just drop the reins on the ground and go about my business, trusting Knockout to stay put until I come back.  When crossing a creek, I’m likely to let him move over a couple of steps if he chooses…after all he’s the one who has to maintain his footing as we cross.

Tending cows is becoming a common goal we both work on together. Rather than focusing on our teamwork, we are beginning to work together as a team for a common purpose.  Rather than practicing transitions, we frequently transition speed and gait as part of the job.  Rather than practicing turns and laterals, we turn and move as needed to get the job done.

It’s sort of like the difference between a football practice and a football game. Yes, the practice is important and necessary, but the game is where the team really comes together toward a common goal.

Working together on necessary tasks has given our rides a sense of purpose. Knockout and I have both embraced that purpose, resulting in a closer sense of partnership.  We don’t work against each other as much, because we’re busy working together toward a common goal.

Isn’t that what God does with us?

When Jesus discipled the twelve apostles, they didn’t just sit around soaking up Jesus’ teaching and enjoying the fellowship. Jesus sent them out to minister to others.  He gave them very explicit instructions on how they were to conduct themselves, and told them:

“And as you go, preach, saying, ‘The kingdom of heaven is at hand.’ Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. Freely you received, freely give.” (Matthew 10:7-8)

Jesus didn’t just minister to the disciples. Rather He asked them to join Him in ministry.  He entrusted them with an important job.  Jesus gave clear and explicit directions without micromanaging.  He called the apostles to a mission with purpose.

Jesus calls us to the same purposeful mission:

And Jesus came up and spoke to them, saying, “All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth. Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:18-20)

Notice we are not alone in this mission. Jesus is with us.  We’re working together toward a common goal.

At His last supper with the disciples, Jesus gave them further instructions:

“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another, even as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this all men will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.” (John 13:34-35)

This is our mission, our purposeful common goal. Go make disciples and love one another.

This is how Christ draws us into closer relationship with Him…by inviting us to join Him in working toward these common goals.

Are you working with Christ to accomplish these necessary tasks?

Peaches and Ferdinand

I believe it was July of 2011 when I came home from work one afternoon to discover my 10-year-old stepson, Dawson, had convinced his grandparents to let him pen a heifer to show in the county fair.

She was a pretty little 1-year-old heifer, peach colored with a white face.  Since she was the color of peaches and cream, we called her Peaches.

Dawson was super excited about her and could not be deterred from wanting to show her.  We all explained that it was much too late in the year for training a show cow.  With the county fair just two months away, there was simply no way she could possibly be ready to show by September.  If he wanted to show her we should have started working with her way back in January or February.

Dawson’s enthusiasm remained steadfast.  He was convinced he could have her ready and was determined to show her at the fair.

So, I determined to help him all I could.

Every day, he and I spent time with Peaches, getting her used to us.  We got her to eat out of our hands and let us pet her.  We taught her to stand tied without too much fuss.  We made a lot of progress with her, but we never did get her to halter lead.

I spent many hours in the pen with Peaches on a calf halter, trying to lead her.  The more I pulled the more she resisted.  She just locked up and refused to budge.

I tried pulling to the side so she had less balance to resist.  She would take one step to the side and go right back into lock-up resistance mode.

We talked to friends who raised show cows asking for advice.  The prevailing advice was to teach her that resistance was futile.  She had to learn that following was her only option.  They advised hooking her to a tractor and pulling her very slowly to teach her to stop resisting and follow the lead.

So, we did that.  I spent many hours slowly driving the tractor around in circles pulling peaches one resistant step after another.  She actually got to where she would half-way follow the tractor, but only with substantial tension in the rope.  With me trying to lead on the ground, she was more resistant than ever.

With final fair entry dates rapidly approaching, Peaches was no closer to being halter trained than the day we started.  We did the only thing we could do…we turned Peaches back out in the pasture with the other cows.

I honestly think I took it harder than Dawson did.  Even though I knew it had been an impossible task from the start, I had gone all-in trying to help him train her, and had failed.

Fast forward to June of 2018…

Sherri’s parents had penned a nice looking 2-year-old bull to keep the older (much larger) bulls from injuring him before he got big enough to protect himself.  With Dad recuperating from surgery I started feeding the bull twice daily.

The bull was super skittish.  When I entered the pen, he fled to the other end.  When I poured his feed, he watched until I left the pen before approaching to eat.  When I tried approaching to pet him while he ate, he fled before I came within two feet.

In July, the bull became covered up with flies, constantly swishing his tail and tossing his head trying to halt their torment.  The poor guy looked absolutely miserable and became even more unapproachable.

I started planning a means of helping him get some relief from the flies.  The best approach would be to fly-spray him, but that would require getting him to stand still long enough to be sprayed.

The last couple of years I’ve been learning a little about horsemanship and I decided to try desensitizing the bull to a spray bottle just as I would a horse.  I filled a spray bottle with water, walked up as close as he would allow, turned my back to him and started squirting water away from him.  He was disturbed and started moving away, so I moved with him, still facing away and still squirting water.  When he stopped, I stopped squirting.  After a few minutes, he would stand still while I squirted water away from him.

Then I started squirting in an arc that got water closer to him, while still facing away from him, and we repeated the same thing until he accepted that.  Then I turned to face him and did the same thing all over again.

At the end of about twenty minutes, he would stand still for spraying.  So I switched bottles and fly-sprayed.

With relief from the flies, he became a much calmer bull.  A few days later he let me pet him while he ate.  A couple of weeks later he started coming to me for treats.  By the end of the month, he was positively friendly.

I started calling him Ferdinand (after the gentle bull in the children’s story) and bought a halter for him.  Using the same pressure and release technique I would use on a horse, I had him following a lead line pretty quickly.  By rewarding the smallest try with instant release, Ferdinand quickly learned what I wanted and followed willingly.

I wouldn’t call him completely halter broke yet, but he leads really well and backs okay when not too distracted.  He and I are having a lot of fun, together!

I keep thinking about these two experiences with cattle training and their completely different outcomes.

With Peaches, I set out specifically to halter train her, spent many hours working with her, and completely failed.  With Ferdinand, I just tried to gain his trust to help alleviate his fly misery…and almost effortlessly halter trained him in just a few minutes a day.

Two drastically different outcomes…based on different approaches.

With Peaches, I set out to make her learn.  We had a very tight time table and needed to progress rapidly.  I viewed her as being stubborn and acted accordingly trying to show her resistance was futile.  It was a fast-paced conquer-by-force approach that did not work well at all.

With Ferdinand, I set out to gain his trust in order to help him.  I used timing of pressure and release to teach him a little at a time, only giving him as much as he was prepared to accept…and it worked incredibly well.

Isn’t it the same way with people?  We set out to make somebody do something or to prove somebody wrong and our headstrong approach is met with nothing but resistance.  If we, instead, set out to gain someone’s trust in order to help them see things a little differently, we may see drastically improved results.

I’m sure glad God uses a gentle approach with us!

“Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)

P.S.  Oh…about Peaches…  Peaches is still part of the herd and is a good mama-cow.  All that time spent with her was not wasted.  She is the calmest, gentlest cow in the herd.  Lately, I’ve been using her to help train my horse, Knockout, to move cattle.  She is super easy to guide from one end of the pasture to the other.  She makes Knockout and me look really good, providing good practice and confidence building.

Your thoughts?