There was a time when the Cowman went to back of beyond Nevada to process some cows that the ranch had bought. I helped jump his ponies in the gooseneck, packed his foul weather gear, tucked a few surprises in his duffle, made sure he had plenty of preg sleeves, and a big thermos of hot coffee, and waved him off.
He got over there and found a mixed bunch of wild high desert cows. Mean as hell every last one of them. The Cowman had decided to preg the cows, so only the bred ones would be shipped to the home ranch here in Cali. The open cows and toothless wonders were going to the auction yard.
The Cowman was to do the preg testing. If you haven't stuck you're arm all the way up the tight ass of a wild cow in a snow storm with a cold wind nipping at your nose, you don't know what your miss'n.
The Cowman was bundled up pretty good against the cold, well except for that one arm. Anyway, one ol gal took offense to his method and charged him as soon as she was released from the squeeze chute. Under normal circumstances it wouldn't have been hard to step out of her path, but he was so bundled up and the ground so slippery with snow, lube, and shit that he went down. Knowing he didn't have time to get back up, he decided it would be in his best interest to roll under the corral fence before she could mash him into oblivion. He made it to the fence, he made it directly under the fence, he got stuck there. Now he was getting mashed on one side, and frozen on the other. Finally, the cow decided he wasn't worth the trouble and wandered off to tell the rest of the gals "she" was headed to better pastures in Calif.
The Cowman came home with frost bite on one side and bruises on the other,
and the crazy cow, she was re-marked as open...