In Paul Harvey fashion, the rest of the story. Can I say that? Is it licensed? Anyway, while I was banging away on my keyboard telling the story, my husband came home from work, noticed there was no action in the pasture or barn, and decided to ride the fence line and pasture to make sure all was well. The cowboys came out of the house and admitted that they knew nothing about cows. Oh, really. We couldn't tell.
Fake cowboy ended up being an all business businessman. He and his brothers recently started a hospice business in town. The younger brother lives across one of our pastures and the older one lives down the road. We have been calling them "The Shoot Family" because the younger one blasts away with enormous guns all the time. He once came over to ask if it bothered us and told us he was going to be in a shooting competition. I hope he is sponsored because he shoots two or three hundred dollars a week in ammo. Sorry, I could help myself.
The older businessman brother decided to go into the cattle business about two weeks ago. He went to a stockyard and bought 40 something head and the younger brother was supposed to watch them. He didn't, wasn't, and probably won't because he is too busy blasting and sneaking around the trees in his yard. I know this because armed with binoculars we have entertained ourselves while sitting on the front porch watching him pretend.
After we recovered from having someone commandeer our farm after we suggested that another time would be better, we have gotten great laugh mileage from the fake cowboy. One of our friends, who trains cutting horses, came over last night and we told him the story. He told us a story that went something like this.
When I see people at horse shows, in the co-op, or around town they always want to consult with me about their horses. I can't stop them so I usually listen. One man told me that every time he got on his horse the horse headed straight for a power pole or a tree and would run into it. Our friend said, "Next time you get on that horse and he heads for the pole, drop the reins." The man looked at him like he was out of his mind. Our friend then said that he had never once in his entire life seen a horse without a rider run into any obstacle and that the man was obviously steering the horse into the pole. He agreed that a horse may try to disengage the rider from the saddle, but he wouldn't actually hit the pole unless you steered or scared him into it. The man was sorely disappointed, because what he had wanted was a confirmation that the horse was crazy and that he was a good horseman. Our friend couldn't do that.
I think that was what the fake cowboy wanted. Confirmation that he had made a good decision getting into the cattle business. He needed to exercise his authority as he does in the business world. He has yet to find the rhythms of the animals, the kinder gentler interaction with neighbors and wet pastures so he fell back on what he knew. He was also embarrassed that his brother was not watching the cows. Insecurity and embarrassment will inevitably mar your people skills. I feel just a touch embarrassed about letting the yellow dog "help!" Susan, you are right. I was unneighborly.