You can't make this shit up.
I will rewind a bit for reference for the odyssey that was the Steer Shooting of 2018:
Last fall, Rachel was working a group of calves at the clinic and had some issues with a particular group of wild ones. A simple mistake, and a quick calf (500 pounds mind you) slipped past an open gate and utilized his new freedom by taking off across the road from the clinic. An afternoon of chasing said cow ended with a lost cow; in town...
Through the course of the fall, a few calls came in, and Rachel watched the Clark facebook page as people were seeing this cow. Each time we went after the calf, nothing came of it. One evening Dad and I were pulling a loop in town to stop at Dakota Butcher, and Dad looks up and says, "HEY! A COW!"
I immediately got Rachel on the phone and we chased the damn thing through town for the next 20 minutes before losing him behind Northwestern energy. Again, we were beat by the nocturnal phantom.
Rachel and I would spend a couple of evenings trying to track this thing in town. We could see where he had been, but trying to find black cow in the dark is like trying to find a pair of fingernail clippers, you know its here somewhere...
Fast forward to late December:
With snow on the ground and all crops out, there are only so many places this thing can hide, and eventually he takes refuge in a shelterbelt on the outskirts of town. Rachel begins getting a few calls here and there that it has been sighted. She spent a few slow days driving past this belt to no avail. This cow is literally haunting our dreams.
That brings us to yesterday.
As I passed the clinic on my way home from work, Rachel and Kadie were on their way out to dart the cow. Someone called it in and they had a concrete location. They immediately called me to take over darting duties, if I wanted to that is. I whipped a shitty near the house and met them at the gas station. We headed out the belt and crept along, waiting for a glimpse of cow. Halfway down the belt we found him. He was bedded on the south side of the belt, not 30 yards from the road. As I put the car in park, I jacked a shell into the dartgun chamber and slide out the door. I slowly slipped barrel over the hood of the car, put the bead on him, low, and squeezed off a round.
When the shot rang out, I heard the dart cracking through the branches above his head. Even at 60 yards, I managed to shoot a couple of feet high. At the shot he stood up. When Rachel and Kadie started to turn around in the road, he took off into the belt and blasted out the back. We all knew where he went and with fresh tracks in good snow, he would be easy to follow. As we pulled a loop back in town to see if he made it this far, I told Rachel I was going to double back and see if I could get eyes on him again. At this point Rachel told me she was going to call her boss and ask if we could just shoot the damn thing and be done with it. She sent me back to the house for my rifle and I didn't even make it to the front door when she called me back with the green light.
I.
Get.
To.
Hunt.
Cow.
I hauled back to the clinic to pick up Rachel, and we blasted back out to the shelterbelt. We had called all of the correct people, the landowner, the clinic owner, and even the sheriff's office to make sure everyone was privy to the situation. When we got to the belt, we drove past it slowly to see if we could find him again, but I knew where he went. I told Rachel I needed her hat, and I was going to track the beast on foot.
When I got onto the north side of the shelterbelt, I cut his track and followed gingerly. I was basically in this guys back yard, so I did my best to keep my distance from the house but as I tracked into a newer shelterbelt, I could see he was using it as cover. I walked slowly, stopping every few steps to see if I could see him. I got to within 50 yards before he broke from the trees. When he got to the open he paused just long enough for me to find an opening and peek my head out. Once he caught sight of me, he put on the burners and bolted for the wide open.
As I was close enough to the road as it was, I checked for traffic, looked what was beyond him, and as he was barreling through the plowing on a full tilt sprint, I put a bead on him and squeezed off a round.
BOOM!
I heard the bullet hit and he dropped in his tracks, rolling him a few times in the snow. I was flabbergasted that I hit him, let alone dropped him. As I shucked a shell back into the chamber and started walking towards him, he got back up and started hauling ass away from me again.
BOOM!
Dropped him again.
With two 7mm mag slugs in him, I knew he was a hurting unit, but again, this was no deer, this was a freakin' steer. With my last shell I tried to finish him off to no avail, so I called Rachel to come to the road for more bullets. With one finishing shot, it was finally over.
With my proximity to the road and the house I was sure we had brought on a fair amount of attention so I was doing my best to just get the job done and get out of there. After Rachel brought my last bullet, she headed to the feedlot to see if we could get someone to load it up and take it away for good. Where I finally finished this thing off was no more than 50 yards from the paved road, and we needed no more attention than we already had.
It was at that moment, as I stood in the plowing next to my trophy steer, that a truck drove down the side of the ditch right up to me. At first I thought it was someone coming to help us load and get this thing out of here.
I was wrong.
This guy was the resident of the house, as well as the son of the landowner whose land we were on. I would have never been out there if we had not contacted every person we needed to, and these folks had been contacted, or so I was told. At this point he proceeds to grill me about who we talked to and were given permission to be on the property. I told him we contacted the landowner, the sheriff, and the owner of the house, to which point he gets pissed. He was the owner of the house and no one contacted him. He stated we did not have permission to be in the shelterbelt around the house and that there were kids in the house.
Now, I know how to handle shit like this so I took every precaution and then some to make sure I was covered, and we were covered and then some. I digress...
I apologized profusely for the miscommunication and he left in a tizzy. Normally, this kind of thing rattles me pretty good, but I knew I was in the clear. This guy was being a blow-hard and his reputation as an asshole only made it easier for me to move on, plus, he doesn't own the land, his Dad does, and we got permission from him for this ordeal.
When Rachel finally did pick me up we stopped at the guy's house, he didn't come to the door (even though I saw him come to the window) and we eventually left to meet the feedlot guy. The guy took his giant end loader, scooped it up, and stopped only to talk to Rachel for a bit.
At this point I was furious with my wife. This guy was literally taking the cow to their dead pile. No backstraps, no loins, nothing. I was PISSED.
After some discussion with the clinic owner and Doc Rachel, it was determined this was the best case scenario. This steer had already caused enough grief, well before this debacle, and the fact that we got the green light to shoot it was because the thing was a liability to begin. People would invariably find out what ended up with the cow, and someone would have bitched that the vets husband butchered the steer and kept the meat. A business politics nightmare that I think I am ok with not getting involved in. If someone hits a deer with a car, the insurance pays it and you move on hopefully without injury. You hit a cow, that opens up an entire can of worms.
That concludes the great epic of The Steer Shooting of 2018.
If 2018 is half as exciting and insane as it is starting, I won't make it to 2019....
Stay Tuned
