The old cowboy
looked down at the cattle guard and swore under his breath.
"Kent?"
he asked. "Got any other
ideas?"
Mike slowly
unhooked the chain from the one of the pipes that made up the cattle
guard. The other end was attached to the
bucket of the front-end loader Kent was running.
"I was sure
that we could just lift up one side of the cattle guard and dig the dirt out
from under it," Kent said.
"But, it looked like the pipe was bending."
"Yep,"
Mike said. "And if we can't lift it
up, there is only one way we can get all of that dirt out from under it."
Mike looked down
at the cattle guard again. The heavy
pipes were set about five inches apart, close enough that a vehicle could
cross, but cattle would not even attempt to cross the pipes. This meant that a cattle guard was a gate
that never had to be opened or closed—a real time-saver on a ranch.
This cattle
guard, however, now had dirt filling the usual open space under the pipes. The recent rains from a a tropical storm that
had not come within a thousand miles of the Brazos River ranch had flooded the
road and washed in so much dirt and debris that the cattle no longer viewed the
cattle guard as an obstacle—something that was made apparent by the cattle the
two men had found grazing along the county road that bordered the ranch. Now safely returned to their pasture, the
cattle would be safe as soon as a little maintenance on the cattle guard was
finished.
An hour later,
the two men were still on their hands and knees, scooping the dirt out from the
between the heavy pipes. It was slow
work, but they were making steady progress.
"You know,
they've done experiments and all you have to do is paint the pipes on the
ground and the cattle won't cross it," said Kent as he lifted another
small scoop of dirt out of the space.
Mike stopped for
a second and looked at the other man.
"That's nonsense," he said.
"Why wouldn't they just walk across them?"
Before his
friend could answer, a county road truck slowly drove around the bend in the
county road and the two men could see two workmen laboring behind the truck as
it slowly made its way toward the gate.
Staring at the
truck, Kent answered, "Cows can't see that well, so they think the stripes
painted on the ground are the real thing."
By now, the two
ranchers could see that the truck was stopping every 20 feet or so, and one of
the two workers was using a posthole digger to make a hole in the ground about
two feet deep.
"Those cows
could see well enough to realize this hole was full of dirt—and these pipes are
real, not just painted on the ground."
As Mike was talking, he stood up so that he could get a better look at
the approaching work crew. As he
watched, the man had finished digging the hole, and as the truck slowly moved
forward, the man with the posthole digger followed the truck as it drove another 25 feet up the shoulder of the county
road.
Mike leaned back
and stretched his back, one hand on his kidney.
"I feel as beat as a rented mule.
Besides, the eyes on a cow are so far apart they have about twice the
field of vision as you and I. What they
lack is depth perception: that's why you
see them walk around shadows—they're afraid it might be a hole in the
ground."
"But, you
see, the cows think...." Kent began, but stopped as he watched the second
workman following the truck walk up to the freshly dug hole and begin refilling
the hole with dirt. When it was
finished, he followed the workman with the posthole digger as the county truck
moved farther up the road.
"Just what
in the world are those two fools doing?" asked Mike. "Why are they digging holes and filling
them back up?"
For a long
minute, the two men just stood there watching the county workers as they dug
another hole and refilled it. As they
watched, the truck finally pulled up roughly in front of where the two old
cowboys were working. Together, they
crossed the road and spoke through the open window of the truck to the driver.
"What's
going on?" Mike asked.
The driver
nodded to the two men and answered, "The county wants to plant trees along
the side of the road; they think it will help stop the erosion after heavy
rains."
Kent walked over
to the back of the truck and looked in.
"Where's the trees?"
"Didn't
bother to bring them," the driver answered. "The guy who plants them, Bob, is on
vacation for two weeks."
"Then why
are you digging the holes and filling them back in?" asked Mike.
"Well,"
answered the driver. "Just because
Bob's on vacation doesn't mean the rest of us shouldn't get paid."
Good enough for government work. Measure it with a micrometer, mark it with a piece of chalk and cut it with an axe.
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