I, for one, welcome our new bovine overlords.

Sigh.

One of the issues of living deep in the boonies of the southwest high desert is that this is open range country. Which means sometimes there are herds of cattle. With more civil rights than me – or my dogs – and no sense of property at all.

Until recently this was a seasonal thing. Whoever had the grazing lease would release cattle in spring and collect them in late summer. Not that big a deal. Also, the creatures tended to stay near their water tanks, which were all near the county road miles from here. Now and then I had to chase a herd away, but not often. The only real reason this was a problem was that the dogs, which do have a sense of property, enjoyed chasing them and that is so very against the law that the ranchers were perfectly within their rights to shoot cow-chasing dogs on sight. They’ve been known to shoot dogs that weren’t chasing cattle. And even dogs that were inside their own wire at the time. So I was very diligent in chasing the cattle away myself.

Well, now a new rancher with a much bigger operation will apparently be running cattle here full-time. And there’s a new stock tank going in that puts me and the boys smack in the middle of grazing land. Ghost, fortunately, is getting older and not quite as aggressive with the beasts as he used to be. Little Bear – it must be said – is a straight-up predator who not only will cut out calves if left to his own devices but also enjoys killing what he chases and eating what he kills. But he’s never allowed loose. Ever*. And I am taking steps to befriend the young fellow they’ve got looking out for the cattle, in hopes of heading off trouble.

So this is the new normal, as spring approaches. No more horses with which to make my living, and too damn many cattle. I am learning to stop worrying and love the cow.

Ladies and gentlemen, please rise for the national anthem of Joel’s Gulch…

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*Though he has broken more than one tie-out cable.