I got a call this morning about a bull out on the railroad tracks. It turns out he wasn't ours (always a thrill because usually they are) but I had to go see him in order to figure out the actual owner. I get down there and the thing is standing right in the county road crossing between two sets of tracks trying to lick a tiny bit of water out of a hole about 2 inches by 4 inches. I try to shoo him off the tracks but he is in really bad shape, weak and freaking thirsty. All drawn up and looks like he is 20 years old - eyes sunken in and won't move. I had to use the truck to kind of shove him out of the way. I'm not sure why he was in such bad shape - it finally rained yesterday and there should have been lots of puddles along there just a ways east (where he came from) I don't actually know that because I didn't have time to go check. (rain can be oddly isolated and spotty here in the summer)
Saw a guy up the tracks a little way greasing the switches (or something?), and went to ask if I could borrow an empty bucket so I could go get the bull some water to lure him off the tracks. (this is all about 10 driving miles from the house) He gave me one and I went about 3 miles to one of our ponds, came back and gave him the water - he had moved a little ways away by a cell tower into some shade. He chugged it and started pushing the bucket around looking for more. Meanwhile the guy working had emptied a couple more buckets so he brought them over and I made two more trips - that bull drank 30 gallons and was looking for more. (10 to 20 is normal) He looked a LOT better - still kind of thin and eyes still sunken, but not like walking death anymore.
While I was driving back and forth I had called all the nearby ranches but one to see if he belonged to anybody that I had a number for. He seemed to have two different brands on his right hip - one looked like the one belonging to the previous owner of that ranch, who had died and the family sold out a couple years ago, but I didn't think the new owners were still using the brand so I wasn't sure what was going on. I called the local sale barn and they confirmed the brand but didn't have a phone number. I called the track supervisor thinking he might have it since that ranch has about 6 miles of RR frontage. Nope. I called the State livestock inspector for my area and left a message but she didn't get back to me. I called the sheriff's office and they didn't have a number either. GEEZ.
I said fuck it and decided to drive to the headquarters which was 10 paved and probably another 5 dirt miles away (the bull had to have walked at least 4 miles down the railroad) I get to the electric gate near the main house (the place has almost always been owned by wealthy absentee types - except back when it was homesteaded by my g-g-grandfather, hee hee) and honk the horn. Nobody comes out. I'm sitting there kind of fuming, and decide to write a note when a small pack of dogs comes up to investigate. I'm petting them and notice one has tags so I thing *hmm* yes! phone number! I call and say "Is this Navajo's owner?" I explain the deal and kind of hint around that not having contact info with anybody is a real PITA for folks trying to be neighborly. The dickhead never even said thanks! And I bet he takes the tag off his dog next time he comes out for a weekend visit.
Anyway, the "help" called a few minutes later - he was just a regular guy and we got the mess straightened out - he went and got the bull - he was gentle enough to follow hay (or a bucket of water!) right into a trailer.
You know this is just the kind of thing one does out here - no big deal. You see a problem, you deal with it no matter who owns the animal or the fence or whatever. But to not even say thanks on the phone. What a jerk. (And this was a confirmation of my first impression of the guy when he first bought the place. Now I know I was right with that.)
Wasn't that an interesting story?:P