August 03, 1995 - The Great Cutchogue Cattle Drive6A • The Suffolk Times Atfgust'3, 1995
The Great Cutchogue Cattle'Drive
By Paul Stoutenburgh
We had just experienced one of those
rare days in summer when the wind had
left its muggy quarter of the southwest
to swing to the north and engulf us with
pleasant, dry weather that one usually
associates with the fall. To take advan-
tage of this special gift, we invited
guests to dinner so that they, too, could
enjoy the splendor of eating out on the
deck overlooking the bay. An added
feature was the Wed-
nesday -night sailboat
races that always make a
picturesque backdrop to
the scene.
We had all just about
finished dinner and were
starting to relax with the
usual chitchat that comes
so easy after a fine meal,
when the telephone rang. The first words
over the phone were, "The cows are out."
Anyone who has had animals, whether it
be a cat or dog, pony, sheep or cows,
knows that feeling of terror and excite-
ment that runs through you when you
start to put together a plan to get back
your wandering friends. Having cows
and sheep and chickens for as long as we
have had the place, we know the problem
and how to cope with it.
Chickens sometimes wander but usu-
ally come back at night to their familiar
roost. That is, most of the time. One year
we were missing a few of our bantams
(small chickens) when we got a tele-
phone call from some distant neighbors,
who said they had a couple of our chick-
ens roosting in one of their pine trees.
They didn't mind them; as a matter of
fact, they rather liked them wandering
about, but the 5 a.m. revelry was a bit
too much and would we mind coming
and getting them. Well, to do this during
the day is almost impossible, for they are
faster than you even though you have a
big landing net that makes you look like
a frenzied butterfly catcher. The best
time to catch them is at night and so that
evening, when it got dark enough, I went
over with my burlap bag and ladder to
retrieve my chickens.
When I got there our neighbor pointed
out the pine tree they were roosting in
and I promptly put up my long alu-
minum ladder. Now, have you ever tried
that trick? The ladder doesn't have any-
thing solid to rest on and as I climbed up
the swaying contraption I said to myself,
"Is this really necessary?" At any rate I
slowly approached the top and saw my
prize. Slowly, ever so slowly, I reached
in and grabbed the leg of one of them.
Well, you would have thought I was
going to cut its head off, for it squawked
and screamed something awful.
Nevertheless I hung on and managed to
get the kicking, fluttering ball of feathers
into the burlap bag. Now I grabbed for
the second, which again screamed and
squawked in a way you never heard the
likes of. I'm sure the whole neighborhood
thought something terrible was happen-
ing. No matter; I'd gotten what I had
gone after and so returned
home with my culprits safe
inside the bag. Then came
the telephone call saying:
"There's still one around;
could you come back and
get it ?" And so the whole
procedure was set in mo-
tion and one more chicken
was retrieved.
Well, chickens are one thing but cows
require an entirely different strategy,
particularly when they're new to the area
like these two were. If they had been
here for some time I'd have had them
come to me by rapping on a feed pail. It
works real well for you can get them to
follow you home with a stop here and
there for a taste of their favorite food.
But no, these had no such training and
they were off wandering in the woods
when I got there.
The first -thing you do when you're in
the process of rounding up your cows is
to immediately open the big gate that
leads into the pasture so that when they
are "heading for the barn" they can go
right in. A few helpful neighbors were
at hand when
Barbara and I
arrived and so,
letting Barbara
off to take care
of the gate, I
drove the pick-
up to where I
thought I could
intercept them.
Sure enough,
about three
blocks away I spotted them munching
on choice weeds at the edge of a back
road. I got out, hoping to round them
up. Of course, they didn't know what I
meant by rounding them up and so they
took off into the woods again with me
right behind. They seemed to enjoy the
new world before them for they kept on
going, stopping now and then to sample
here and there.
At one point they walked around some
summer cottage. Being still small in size
Focus
on
Nature
by Paul
Stoutenburgh
Photo by Barbara Stoutenburgh
YOUNG COWS — Although they look very innocent, they are something
entirely different when they get out and you have to round them up.
they were not noticed in some backyards
while in others the occupants came to
their doors in amazement and, to my
amazement, all but one were delighted to
see them or, better yet, helped in shoving
them along. Only one person called; "Get
them out of my flower bed!" as if I was
putting them to pasture in amongst his
petunias. I was wearing shorts and by
now my legs were scratched and torn and
I'm sure ripe
for poisin ivy
and ticks, but
that was a
problem for
later. My only
thought now
was to get the
cows turned
around toward
their four
`Anyone who has had animals
knows that feeling of terror and
excitement that runs through
you when you put together a
plan to get back your
wandering friends.'
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acres of pas-
ture while we still had some daylight.
Soon more help came along, in par-
ticular my grandson, Robby, who had
just come from a soccer game. With his
speed and agility he chased them and
turned them around. He was the true
leader of the roundup. Then through two
or three more back and front yards they
were out on the road heading home.
Now the problem was that they had to
make a right turn and I wasn't sure they
had the correct directions. I sped down
ahead in the pickup just in time to head
them to the right.
We were only one block away now
and all the cowboys and cowgirls were
panting and slowing down. The gate was
open so they should have gone straight in
but, no, cows big or little just don't know
what's good for them so at the last
minute our two wanderers decided to
walk into the neighbor's yard. Luck was
with us for now we had acquired a good-
ly number of supporters and we literally
surrounded them and forced them to
retrace their steps and into the pasture
they went.
But now we were faced with the mys-
tery of how they had gotten out in the first
place. Then Robby called from across the
pasture, "Someone left the other gate
open." I immediately felt myself drenched
in embarrassment, for I had gotten the
lawnmower from out back during the day
and had passed through that gate. I had
been the culprit. I'm sure there were inner
smiles-from everyone, particularly the
kids in the family, for I'm always harping
on closing the pasture gates behind them.
Well, the day ended with a soapy
shower for us in hopes the poison ivy
and ticks would not take hold. So far (12
hours later) the soap shower has done
the trick. As my daughter said later,
"Well, there's nothing like a little excite-
ment to end up the day."
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