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I got to thinking (a dangerous function in the first place), that not too many people today can picture or understand the mechanics of a stampede. Even the new generation of kids growing up on ranches today don't understand or know what to do. A stampede of today’s fat and lazy beef cattle is nowhere near the wild and wooly runs of a half-wild bunch of Texas longhorns of yesteryear. We were moving about 400 head of steers that weighed just over 900 pounds each toward the shipping corrals. They were in a holding pasture that is about a mile cross from east to west and a mile and a half from north to south. The corrals are at the east side of the pasture. As we approached the corrals, one of the steers smelled a rat. All of these critters had arrived at this pasture by truck and were unloaded, branded, ear tagged and vaccinated in these corrals. None of these operations are pleasant for a critter and the thing they seem to dislike most is ear tagging. Well, anyway, this critter sees the corrals, and says, "been there, done that", and throws his tail in the air and heads west at a high lope, and the rest of the herd says, "Hey, this looks like fun!", and the run is on! Now six riders have no way of flat stopping 400 head of critters. The only thing you can do is turn the leaders, and gradually force them to circle back into the herd. As one rider turns the leaders, the other riders try to catch up and form a line and keep the critters circling until they run out of steam and calm down. Then you start over. This bunch wouldn't circle. If you turned the lead, a new leader would break out behind you and away they would go again. We were plumb outgunned. We finally let them go west until they hit the fence and stopped. We let them calm down a while and started over. We had not gone far when the same steer gets a wild look in his eyes and takes off again, this time headed south; and it was on again. This time I was in the lead and trying to turn the critters. This is a dangerous and scary game. You and 400 critters are charging across the prairie. They are running blindly and will stop at nothing. My job is to stay in front of them and try to createenough noise or spectacle to get their attention and cause them to change direction. I am watching the cattle beside and behind me. I am depending on my horse to watch the ground and take care of any obstacles that come up. He is depending on me to not send him into something he can't handle. He is running flat out and jumping trails, and swerving around things, while I am yelling, waving my hat, and looking backwards. This can lead to some real sudden surprises and severe jolts and jerks, and on some occasions it can lead to a fatal wreck. More than one cowboy and his horse has been turned into pudding, when they fell in front of a running herd. I finally got the herd to turn toward a corner of the pasture. The herd stopped and the other riders began to regain control of them. The crazy one that had started all of this would not stop or turn for any reason. He was so hot and tired that his tongue was hanging out, and could hardly run, but he would not go anywhere but straight south. My horse was as tired as he was, finally things just fizzled to a stop. I let him stand and breathe,and this also let my horse catch his wind too. We stood there glaring at each other for about ten minutes. After a little bit, when I could see that the rest of the herd had settled down, I decided to see if this critter was ready to quit. I rode toward him, and he charged my horse. Well, the trucks were waiting. This had been going on for over 45 minutes, and I wasn't having fun anymore. Time for an attitude adjustment session. When I tried again, he charged again. I roped him around the neck. The loop of the rope goes around the steer's neck. The rope is 25 feet long and the other end is dallied around the saddle horn. I threw the slack over the steer's back and it slid down along his right side and near his legs. I then spurred my horse forward past the steer. When the slack went out of the rope, it jerked his rear legs out from under him and caused him to do a horizontal, backwards somersault. (The old timers call this a "Hoolihan".) When the Critter hits the ground, it knocks the wind out of him and you can jump off your horse (the horse is trained to continue to pull on the rope and keep the steer from being able to get up) and you can grab his legs and tie him up before he can recover. I didn't get off the horse. I let the steer get up and busted him again; and when he got up, I did it again. This time he just laid there. I got off the horse, took the rope off of his head, and he offered no resistance. I let him get his breath and then kicked him in the nose and he got up and went meekly back to the herd. We were able to get the herd moved the mile back to the corrals and into them without further incident. The steer was satisfied to stay hidden in the middle of the bunch until it was his turn to climb on the truck, which he did without protest. I don't know how much money that steer cost us, but he shore ran a lot of pounds of beef off of that herd, and a bunch off of my horse and even a few from me. Oh, the glorious life of a cowboy. Those beautiful sunsets that you and your exhausted horse stagger toward on the way home; the dust and dirt that you ate, the bruises on your legs and other places from hitting the saddle horn when your horse jumped down off that bank you never saw. Well, you get the picture. And all of this so that some kid somewhere will be able to eat a double-beef tonight. See ya down the trail.. Chip 
Site created by: "Twink's Ink" September 1999 
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