Llamas and Black Baldies

We were checking hunters on the opening day of Elk season. By ‘we’, I mean I had a rider - a temporary Parks officer who is trying to get hired by the Division of Wildlife, who wanted to see what we do. After our boring opening day, he might change his career objectives.
We were traveling along a Forest Service two track when. off to the right we saw a herd of about 60 cows and calves with frantic, exhausted looks on their bovine faces running hard toward our truck. We just watched them as they ran through a fence, flattening it without slowing down. “Maybe they think they are going to be fed,” Darvin said. “Maybe.” But they veered off before flattening my new truck.

We drove on, and Darvin said, ”I just saw some orange in the trees.” I looked, and sure enough, a hunter with an orange vest, horseback. I flashed my overhead lights at him, since I had a suspicion of who it might be. He began waving at us to come over to him. I drove on, looking for a two-track, but did not see any. I stopped, and he yelled, “Come on.” I drove cross country, which I never do, to Bobby Genua sitting on a roan mare. Bobby is a retired Air Force Paratrooper, but looks like he’s been herding cows for 60 years, and chews tobacco with a voraciousness I’ve seldom seen. He said, “Buck, (spit) I have a problem! I got a big problem. Did you see my cows, Buck? (spit) Did you see ‘em? They are wild as elk! They are crazy. I’ve never seen them that way. I’ve been running cows for 23 years, and I’ve never seen ‘em like this. You got to help me, Buck.” (spit)

“What happened?” “It’s that llama! It loves cows, and it’s been chasing mine all over the country. You got to do somethin’, Buck.” (spit) “Do you want to borrow my gun?” I asked. “I have a pistol, but I can’t shoot it,” said Bobby. “Let’s rope it,” I said. “I’ll dally it up and it’s little head will just pop off”. “Na, I already called Linda and she’s chasing it around.” Suddenly, the White Beast appeared in the trees, heading our way, with a halter and lead rope dragging behind it. From somewhere in the woods, a faint female voice yelling “George, George! Here, George.” I looked at Bobby. Bobby shrugged. (spit) “I tell you, something’s got to be done. That thing loves cows and the cows are terrified of it.” I said I could relate. We chased the llama back toward Linda. All was silent in the woods.

Bobby said, “Now I have cows all over the forest everywhere. You got to help me, Buck.” (spit) “And now I have to go get my trailer and return that stupid llama.” We cut the fence so he could get his horse through it, and Bobby said he’d fix it later, since the cows had gone through it several times anyway, and he was now asking the roan to step over the wire.

As we were talking about how BBQ llama compares with Beef Brisket, a white Dodge pickup drove down the county road, with the white Llama tied in the back, it’s skinny head and neck sticking up like a periscope. All was silent in the woods. I looked at Bobby. Bobby looked at me. “Did you see that, Buck?” (spit) “Did you see that? That llama was tied in the back. No stock racks or nothing.” I said, “Yes- I guess you can get your cows now. I’ll go get a horse and give you a hand. Can I bring the 30-30?”

It was a quiet day looking for hunters anyway.

“To what avail are forty freedoms without a blank spot on the map?”