Read Part 1 first

It finally happened—our coveted goal of bovine. They were close enough on my side of the road to get our hopes up. We saw them from some distance giving Dan time to slow the truck so I could take proper aim. Did I mention already the difficulty involved in a right-handed person rotating their shoulders to properly take aim from the passenger window of a moving vehicle while still wearing the regulation seatbelt in a lawfully abiding way? Okay, I wasn’t sure if I did or not. I just want that point noted for future reference. Not that I’m trying to make excuses for any missed opportunities, I just want to make sure that this information is documented.

So, anyhow, I pulled back and took aim at the cow nearest the road. It was a good 60 feet away. You’d think that with the sides of barns I’d been plinking (the newer aluminum barns and sheds do make a lovely sound, by the way), that I would’ve been in good practice for the real quarry. But no, I was wide right. In fact I was resembling the Florida State Seminoles as the next couple of shots sailed wide right.

Dan must be a Miami fan because the next group of cows we came across he wanted to take a few shots at. Luckily he brought the truck to a complete stop this time because the cows were still on my side of the road. (I don’t think I could have taken the steering wheel while he fired past me and through the window.) He kicked up some dust at one’s hooves and it startled the beast into a short trot.

He flanked one which resulted in an even longer trot. It must be noted here that I have a history with cows. I have worked with dairy cows and lived on a ten acre parcel surrounded by fields of beef cattle for over twenty years. I know what it takes to hurt a cow. No bovine or bovine parts were harmed in the making of this blog entry. (This disclaimer is in keeping with all SPCA, PETA and BFD requirements.) In fact, a better case could probably be made that the 19" browns we had just caught on the Owyhee suffered more. It did, however, provide us with endless entertainment at their emotional expense.

Our real goal, of course, was a bull. In posterior positioning to be precise. We finally found a bull browsing near the road. He was at a slight angle, but enough of the targeting pouch was visible to make a viable target. I lobbed a few shots from the truck and missed, of course. I’m sure I’ve mentioned somewhere about the difficulties in a right-handed persona aiming through the passenger window…yes? We were stopped a good 20 feet from the fence and the bull was another 30 from there. Dan figured being at the fence would be much easier and the steadying fence post an additional bonus.

This did bring up a concern about the ability of enraged bulls to jump barbed wire. I have witnessed, on several occasions, bison (which are indeed bovine) jump barbed wire fences. It was in the Jackson Hole area, just north of the Gros Ventre river. I was photographing them from the road at the time. I have a black and white photo (which I’m proud to say I developed myself) tucked away somewhere with bison in mid-jump. I’ll see if I can find it.

So, what could bovine of the cattle variety do? We discussed that for a moment, then Dan, never one to let discussions like that get in the way of a worthy goal, headed for the fence. He took a couple of good shots and did manage to pepper his rump. A switch of the tail and turn of the head was about all the response we got.

It’s a lot like fishing, with near misses and what-could-have-beens. Spooking the prey with misplaced shots. The anticipation and hope nearly rivaling the thrill of the big hook-up. You don’t actually have to get one to be "successful," because slingshoting for bovine is about being in wide-open country, enjoying fresh air and laughing your butt off with good friends.

Needless to say, we are still in the hunt to bag the elusive bull with (mar)balls.

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