Corrientes were brought to the Americas in the 14th Century by the Spanish. Unlike your average cow, they are physical, agile, resourceful and ideally suited to surviving under harsh desert conditions. Could this be the cow that finally wins a rodeo?
My grandfather had a small dairy and dairy farm back in Swartz Creek, Mich., so I sort of grew up hanging out with cows. My brother and I would spend weekends on the farm and occasionally weeks at a time – especially in the summer.
Because my grandfather’s were dairy cows, they tended to hang around longer than the ones that become burgers, so we were able to build some relatively long term relationships.
Besides an old mutt named Petey, originator of the infamous Petey Kiss, the cows were a primary source of entertainment. My grandfather had a small room in his barn where he always kept a calf or two and we’d hang out in there and treat them just like big kitties.
He also usually kept one cow around that we could ride – bareback of course. While it wasn’t a dashing steed, it enhanced playing cowboys and Indians immeasurably.
Frequently we’d also play in the hayloft, climbing the bales to the ceiling and jumping off into a soft pile of hay on the floor. Once when we were playing up there, I fell through one of the holes my grandfather used to feed the cows and ended up on my back staring face to face with a startled, hungry and disappointed cow. Other than a bump on the head, I was none the worse for wear.
When I moved to Arizona I taught for a couple of years at a private school on a working cattle ranch. More close encounters of the cow kind, including some amateur rodeos held so the students, many of them from ranches in Texas, could hone their skills.
In fact, it was there that I acquired the habit of rooting for the cows at rodeos. But then I’ve always rooted for the underdog. It’s one of the traits that makes a good journalist – but it’s gotten me into a lot of trouble over the years as well.
Then came 20-some years in the Valley, and the closest I got to cows was burgers. But that all changed when I moved to the Rim Country.
That’s where I learned that there are two places in the world where cows are considered sacred – India and Arizona.
I learned it because cows are a common occurrence in Mesa del Caballo where they walk side-by-side down the streets, pausing to eat whatever they want out of our yards. I remember a little girl who wouldn’t get off the school bus one day because a cow was blocking the front door to her house and she was freaked.
In India, cows are often part of the family, with names and personalities. It’s kind of like that in Mesa del because we pretty much share our lives with them.
What I learned living in Mesa del about Arizona law is that it’s your job to fence cows out, not the owner’s job to fence them in. If they can find a way onto your property and into your life, they have every legal right to do so.
And if you try to stop them by, say, capturing or otherwise harming them, you are in direct violation of Arizona’s Open Range Law.
Which finally brings me to the point of all this. If you have been following the local news in the Valley, you know about the “fugitive Ahwatukee cow” – a 1,000-pound heifer that broke down a ranch fence a couple months ago and has been roaming communities in the South Valley ever since.
The cow is apparently a Corriente, a particularly agile, athletic and resourceful breed often employed in roping competitions. Corrientes were brought to America in the 1400s by the Spanish and are particularly well adapted to surviving in the desert.
So far nobody has been able to catch the cow, including a professional cowboy hired by the rancher. And while many Ahwatukee residents see the humor in the situation, a good many don’t and want her out of their lives.
How this will all play out is anybody’s guess. Of course, we humans can win if we want. We have all guns, tanks, bazookas, hand grenades and other assorted weaponry at our disposal, and we badly outnumber this solitary cow. But then there’s that pesky Open Range Law.
So once again, I find myself rooting for the cow. Sure it has the law on its side, but you still have to admire how it has managed to hold entire communities made up of thousands of flatlanders at bay.
And I have to wonder what would happen if it met up with a boy Corriente and they produced a super cow, a Barry Bonds of cows, that could truly and fairly compete against rodeo cowboys.
So it seems especially appropriate as another summer of rodeos winds down to repeat once again that mantra that so ticks off rodeo fans and your local chamber of commerce whose primary concern is how many tourist dollars we can wring out of rodeo weekends:
Go cows go!
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