Poga the Cow - or - The Adventures of the Mystic Mommy Moo

Sybil Erden, Director - The Oasis Sanctuary - June 15, 2004

The Summer I was six, my Mother and I spent several weeks at a Catskill New York dairy farm. The working dairy supplemented its income annually by opening the doors of their home to city children and their mothers as a guest farm. It was there that I was introduced to the joys of hayrides, collecting chicken eggs, playing with baby goats and lambs. I met and fell in love with a donkey and, of course, the cows....

Over the years I have had the good fortune to live at great length and intimacy with all the animals.... except cows. In the four years since The Oasis moved to its rural location in Cascabel Arizona, I have repeatedly made my intentions known: I wanted to adopt in a cow. Several times through the Sanctuary associations we belong to, we had attempted to bring cattle needing homes to our facility. But for one reason or another .... usually distance and the ensuing transportation problems .... the cows never arrived.

Recently, through a former employee named Woody, who now worked for the cattle co-operative called Saguaro Juniper, I had heard that their herd was being downsized. I stated that I would be interested in acquiring one of the cows.

So it came to be that Poga, a nine-year-old, very pregnant Angus Hereford cross came to The Oasis.

Poga was being considered for slaughter after the baby was born. She was, I was told, "range crippled".... which, I was led to understand, meant that after these years roaming the vast expanses of free-range acreage, she was having a hard time keeping up with the younger and more agile cows. The caretaker of the herd, Debbie, was trying to find an alternative to slaughter for this gentle cow, but none of the other ranchers wanted to buy her. I was delighted to offer here a home.

During our discussions and negotiations, as we began our arrangements for Poga's transfer, Woody also told me that she was as "huge as the Exxon Valdez".... and this was not much of an exaggeration. Poga, a black cow with a large white face, was almost as round as she was tall. Cows carry their babies for nine months. Her calf would be arriving within a matter of weeks. Woody felt that it would be more problematic to transport mom and calf, so time was of the essence in moving Poga to her new environs.

Planning for Poga's arrival, I purchased a quantity of fencing materials to shore up the perimeter fence of our 22 acre orchard; wire and t-posts, concrete, fence posts and gates. I also thought to establish a new perimeter around the employee housing to protect gardens from the appetite of this 1000 pound grazing animal.

The horse corral is established in one corner of the orchard. I overlooked reinforcing that fencing as I was under the assumption that a cow would be no more damaging to this fence than the three 800 pound horses residing within the corral.

I was to rue this decision.

On a quiet Sunday morning in June Woody loaded Poga into a large stock trailer and drove the ten plus miles from the western side of the San Pedro River, across the Kelsey Wash road, up Cascabel Road, to the Sanctuary. Poga was easily unloaded and let into the shady and grassy orchard. Her hay was pointed out to her. The three watering troughs in the orchard were shown to her. And she began wandering.

It was the first time, perhaps in her entire life, that she had been without the company of other cows.

As the caregiver of birds who are themselves flock animals, I should have understood the mentality of herd animals better. However I believed that since Poga was pregnant and soon would have the lifetime companionship of her baby, that the next few days or weeks until the calf was born, would be all right for her to be alone.

All day Poga wandered and tested the fence line, seeking another cow or a way out....

That night I worried about her and by 4 AM could no longer sleep.I lay in the dawn light and at 4:30 I got up. After letting out my dogs, I went down to feed the horses, donkeys and, of course, Poga.

Poga stood near her hay and water. I sat on the edge of a nearby trailer and spent a few minutes speaking with her. When I left to go to the hay-barn to get feed, she wandered away. Within a moment she was at the far end of the horse corral. Getting her head under the fencing strands she lifted with her massive neck and popped one of the strands. Instantly her front legs were through the fence and after a shimmy and a shake of her huge torso, Poga was in the horse corral. The horses looked at her and did nothing. She ambled slowly across the corral to the three-sided barn at the far end. There I manipulated some gates and closed her in the barn. Gypsy, our mare, took this moment to escape from the temporarily unsecured corral and pranced about until I put feed in the horses' boxes. When Gypsy was again secured, I found a water bucket and feeding trough and established Poga in the barn. Within a few minutes all the animals were fed, watered and settled down. I took an overturned bucket and sat reading a book next to Poga for the next hour as the sun rose over our valley.

It was a beautiful and pastoral morning.

By 7 AM the workday at the Sanctuary was underway. Staff began feeding the birds. One of our employees, Bill, whose job it is to do general maintenance of the facility, came to begin repairs of the horse corral. We decided to shore up the entire horse pen bordering on the orchard. I fed the handicapped birds in my house, and medicated a bird recovering from cancer surgery in the hospital. TJ came down to help a neighbor load some of the wood we had trimmed from the trees on the property.

It was at this point that Poga decided to try to come out of the barn enclosure. TJ decided that it would be best to put Poga back in the orchard since the repairs were almost completed.

His mistaken belief that a cow could be led like a horse was to change the course of the day.

TJ was a large man; 270 pounds, almost 6' 4" tall. He is strong, agile, athletic. He can wrangle a donkey or a horse. But on this morning, TJ found that he was no match for a determined cow.

I was done at the hospital and was walking back to my house. I was about to grab my book from where I had left it on my front porch and go and read with Poga for a while. I saw TJ and Bill speaking next to Poga';s pen.

From that distance I saw TJ take a long lead and looped it over Poga's neck and slowly began to lead her out of the holding pen, toward the orchard gate. I stopped in my tracks. When he stubbed his toe on a pile of rocks, TJ lurched which startled Poga. I saw Poga rear up slightly, pull forward and pull TJ forward. What happened next set the tone for the day. Poga used all 1000 pounds of strength and pulled the lead from TJ's grasp. She sprinted forward. TJ followed at a full run, but Poga, blue lead dangling, outpaced him easily.

She headed toward the dense thickets and mesquite bosque (forest) behind TJ's house. Within seconds she had disappeared into the shadows.

TJ ran after her behind his house. Bill and I overcame our initial shock and surprise and joined the search.

It was 9:30 AM.

Bill and I fanned out through the 15 or more acres of bosque behind my house, TJ's house and the guesthouse in an attempt to find the cow and the man. I called TJ many times, but in the thick brush he was unable to hear me. Bill and I continued circling the property, thrashing through the brush, calling and searching. We would find tracks but no cow. After an hour or more neither Bill nor I had seen the errant cow or her pursuer. I decided to walk a quarter mile down the Teran Wash, which bisects our property lengthwise toward the San Pedro River. I was looking for cow tracks, but I saw none.

Around eleven AM I found TJ coming out of the brush. By now both the cow and Bill were missing.

TJ and I found cow tracks and followed them hopefully to where they led behind some buildings and employee housing. We hoped to find Poga happily grazing on someone's garden.... but suddenly Poga's tracks doubled back on themselves .... and disappeared.

TJ and I followed various sets of tracks, which would seem to lead up to fences and stop. Or the tracks would simply double around like mystical crop circles.

Bill returned. TJ went down to the River and crossed it, climbing hills to see whether he could spot Poga. He came back around 12:30 and began saddling up my horse, Casey, who had not been ridden in two years. TJ also required the use of my saddle. I am 5' 6", 125 pounds. Needless to say, the saddle was too small, the stirrups to short and impossible for him to get his entire foot into. TJ would later tell me that his manhood was forever compromised by this uncomfortable two and a half-hour ride.... Casey, who had been retired to life with two other equines, was none too happy about any of this either. But after supplying TJ with water, a flashlight, a bag of fruit and making sure he had a knife.... the two boys set off down the Wash to the River. In all seriousness I told TJ that if he were not back by dark I would send the (Sheriff's) posse to find him.

TJ spent the next few hours riding up and down the river bottom calling to and looking for Poga. Again, he would follow tracks which might have been hers.... or might have been older tracks of other ranging cattle.... but in the heat of day, no cow was to be found.

I would not see Casey or TJ again until three PM.

In the interim I had called Woody twice in an attempt to get advice and help. He finally got back to the house and found my messages. When he called he said he would meet me in a pasture on the Gamblin Ranch near the Kelsey wash (three or four miles south of us on the River) on the assumption that Poga might be heading back there to join some of her friends.

Feeding was done and I pulled two Oasis staff, Teri and Nancy off their cleaning chores to enlist them in the cow-search. We all went to change into hiking clothes. I put on tall boots (I had been wearing sneakers) and a pair of cargo pants with large pockets for hat, water, and such. I strapped on my Smith and Wesson 38 in case we ran into a bear or bobcat, although the likelihood that wild animals would approach three noisy humans was remote. I also grabbed a can of pellets to rattle and call the cow. "Hay Lady" was what she was used to hearing to come at get her feed....

At the mouth of the wash, before entering the riverbed, we ran into Bill who sat, panting and exhausted, in the shade. He had been following phantom cow-moos behind TJ's house, to the other side of the wash, up embankments and back. But no Poga.

The girls and I hiked down to the River. While TJ had headed north, we three woman hiked south on the dry riverbed. It was a beautiful but increasingly hot afternoon. We walked through the dappled sun and shade on the riverbed, following what appeared to be a fresh set of cattle tracks.... but never caught sight of Poga.

We arrived at the gate to Gamblin Ranch after about 40 minutes and found it locked. We climbed over the gate and saw a number of cows in the distance grazing in the huge open pasture. A truck had sped by just as we approached the initial gate.... and it turned out to be driven by Woody. He walked in the distance checking the cows, a few of which were black with white faces like our Poga.... looking to see whether any of the was the missing bovine. No luck.

Woody offered us a lift back to The Oasis. We arrived just as TJ was unsaddling Casey. Woody believed that Poga was, in all likelihood, still on our property. Once again we walked the fence line and fanned through the dense underbrush.

No Poga.

We went back to my house, drank ice water and discussed the next move. Woody thought that Poga was heading back toward Debbie's ranch, nine or ten miles south of The Oasis on the other side of the River. Woody suggested he drive home, check to see whether Poga was there.... and then drive upriver toward us. TJ and I would four-wheel-drive down to Kelsey Wash and we would meet up somewhere. The hope was that before we ran into one another one or the other of us would find Poga.

We waited about a half an hour, long enough to allow Woody to get back to Debbie's and set out. TJ has a huge old 1968 Chevy 4x4 deep orange pickup truck. The two of us climbed into the cab of the Chevy and started down the steep incline into the wash. From there we bumped along down to the riverbed. For the next half an hour we slowly drove down through the ruts and ravines of the river bottom. We drove over rocks, through soft, shifting sand, over logs and through fast growing brush. At one turn in the road we came across three white tail does who were as mesmerized by us in the orange vehicle and we were with their innocent beauty. They would dart en masse 50 feet ahead and stop to look back at us.... then dart forward again as we approached. This game went on for 5 minutes until they turned up a shaded and overgrown ravine along the river and vanished.

We continued to drive. TJ and I were within a few minutes of Kelsey Wash.... when we both rounded a curve and there was Poga, blithely meandering along side the riverbed, stopping now and then to munch on weeds as she walked. We leaned out of the cab and shook the pellet can at her calling "Hay Lady!"

She looked back at us and continued walking slowly to the south. After a brief discussion, I hopped out of the truck's cab and began walking with Poga. What was a pedulous and leisurely stroll for her was almost a jog for me.

As I got out of the truck we realized we were within 50 feet of the road at Kelsey Wash. The goal was to get Poga onto that road so that we could coax her into a pasture and safety. As I began to walk, TJ's truck stalled and would not restart. (We later discovered that this was due to a bad battery cable.... but more of that later.)

I called to TJ to tell him Woody would probably be coming from that road and to hang out until Woody arrived. I would stay with Poga and not let her out of my sight.

As we came up to the road crossing, I attempted to steer Poga to the right, onto the upper trail, by bribing her with the pellets. She ignored my attempts and began trotting faster to insure my inability to herd her onto the road. When I would run up in an attempt to get in front of her, she would briefly speed up and out-distance me. It was apparent that she believed she knew where she was going. My only option was to walk with her.

Poga and I walked along. She occasionally took pellets from me. Once I poured some water into her moth from my water bottle, which she promptly spit it out and sprayed on me. After about a quarter or a half-mile of ambling along, she darted to the right, into a small ravine and up a short hill. At the summit was a barbed wire fence. On the far side of the fence was a new red sign that read "Posted: No Trespassing." Poga stared forlornly at the sign and back at me. Her expression said "I know humans can get me through this" ....

I explained that I was ill equipped to help her get through the fence. I had no wire cutters. She would have to come with me and I would take her home to Debbie's and her cow-friends.

I turned and walked back down the incline. As I looked over my shoulder I saw Poga turn and follow me.

We walked side by side for about another half mile or more. Sometimes she allowed me to lead briefly, but mostly she doggedly led, heading straight and true south. The river slowly turned slightly east. Soon after the bend in the riverbed, there was a large wash to the right. Poga once again turned and trotted up the ravine. At the top of this wash as yet another barbed wire fence. Poga turned and followed the fence line to the south. Eventually the fence turned back toward us and into a large thicket. Poga turned back toward the river, but shortly thereafter began to climb a steep, rocky hill. Grabbing a branch I found on the ground as a walking stick, and pulling myself up on the branches of low-hanging trees and shrubs, I climbed up the steep and slippery hill. Rocks slid beneath my feet and rolled down the hill.

Poga walked with determination and grace, her huge belly swaying, up the hill. She remained about ten feet ahead of me. She would get to a small safe outcropping and wait, looking back at me to make sure I was safe. When I would get close she would turn and continue up the hill.

"I would not do this for TJ." I told her, "But for you, I'll climb this damned mountain.... " I had thought one could simply buy a cow.... but now I understood that one had to earn one.

We got to the crest of the hill. It was after six PM and the sun was bright to the west. The sky was clear and blue, the light golden, our shadows long. Poga and I surveyed our position. I had never seen this part of the San Pedro River Valley. It was exquisite. The view was certainly worth the climb.

To the due south Poga saw a pasture with a tall rust-red water tower. She focused on the sight. We began to climb down the mountain. Fortunately the sure-footed Poga found a relatively gentle incline and, fighting through scrub and mesquite thorns, we made it down to a very small field.

We were now surrounded by a deep thicket of thorny brush. Poga, 10 feet ahead, barreled through the sharp and spikey underbrush. I was somewhat slower, my hide thinner. I fought through the shrubbery and rapidly the distance between Poga and me widened. She no longer was stopping to look back. She no longer listened to my voice. Within moments she was gone.

The sun would soon go behind the mountains. I looked at my watch and realized I had about an hour to get to TJ, a neighbor's house, or the road. I did not have a flashlight. The thought of spending the night in the dense thicket was not appealing. At this point I really had no idea where I was.

I put the sun behind me and began to head due east, back to the riverbed. Fighting through the scrub I came upon a barbed wire fence. I was surprised, as I had thought the fences were all behind me. Laying on my back, I lifted the fence by the twisted wire stay and slithered underneath. I continued walking in the direction of the river for a few minutes and came upon yet another fence. Once again I lay on my back and slithered underneath.

I was hot, tired, sunburnt, scratched and dirty.

I plowed on. I felt as though I was trapped in Hansel and Gretel's witch's forest. The trees were tightly packed and overgrown. Branches hung in my face and tangled in my hair. The light was dim, dappled, broken and shadowy through the thick canopy of mesquite.

When I came upon yet another fence, I could not go under it. It was too low to the ground and very rusty. I started to walk north, in the direction I would have to head in along the river bottom, hoping to find a gate or an easier way out. Within a few moments I came across a deep ravine that the fencing was suspended over. I walked back along the ravine until I found a point to easily climb down into it. I was careful walking down, fearful of twisting an ankle in a hole or stepping on a snake.

Eventually I came to a clearing, which eventually led me to the river.

I made note of a large cottonwood tree so that I would know where I came out and began walking north. I was a half-mile to a mile from where I had walked up the wash with Poga. I continued walking. I retraced our steps.... and followed the footprints of javalina, deer, big cats and a bear.

Within 40 minutes I came to the spot where TJ's truck had been. No one was around. So I headed east on the Kelsey Wash road, expecting to find a phone at a neighbor's home or to get to Cascabel Road and hitch a ride home.

No sooner had I turned onto the road than I hear TJ's voice and a rumbling engine. I called to him.... and he and a neighbor, Bob, came into view. Both were on Bob's old John Deere tractor. Bob had jump-started TJ's truck, which now was sitting in Bob's yard up the road. Bob and TJ diagnosed the problem as a corroded battery cable.

No sooner had we started talking than Woody walked up. He had ended up walking from Debbie's ranch when one of the tires was found to be leaking on his truck when he arrived home. Woody and I had missed one another during our walk. He was walking down the river while I followed Poga up the mountain.

It was now getting darker. Woody was worried that Poga was still out in the brush. I described our adventure and the pasture with the red water tower. Woody appeared startled and told me that indeed that was Debbie's pasture and her water tower. Poga was going home.

Woody got a lift from Felix, Bob's neighbor. TJ and I got a lift on the tractor and then Bob jumpstarted the truck again.

By the time we arrived home it was almost 8 PM and quite dark. I went to care for my dogs, the horses and look after some birds. Woody called TJ and told him that Poga had been waiting at the pasture gate when he got home. TJ then went to report the news to the staff.

Over a late and simple dinner TJ and I discussed the day's events. If an older, majorly pregnant, "range crippled"; cow could out run, out distance, and out maneuver a half-dozen healthy and active humans.... what could young, agile bovines accomplish? We obviously had much to learn.

Poga is now temporarily in foster-care back at Debbie's ranch, happy and content with her cow-buddies. Woody's stock trailer's leaf spring is broken so it is not in use. Our stock trailer is at a friend down-river.... but we will have it back by the weekend.

I am looking for a suitable companion for Poga among the ranchers and dairymen in our area.

Bill and another Oasis employee, Angel, are going to finish fixing and strengthening the fencing over the next few days. I will buy more gates and heavy duty posts to insure, as much as one can, that our cows (note the new plural) do not send us on an all-day rodeo chase again.

This story is over.

But it has just begun.