When the latest storm lashed through the prairie, there was a little less lash and a LOT more water. Electricity went out in most of the park buildings and we closed for a couple of days. Since I am a no-work no-pay employee, I was happy to see that the old horse barn, which is half-barn, half office/storage, did have power, and I made my way there to catch up on an old filing project.
Sporadic bands of drenching rain and high winds were still bustling through, and from the safety of the stalls (horses not in there...they are safer in the pasture) I watched as a very sudden squall descended upon the cracker cattle. I thought maybe they would sit, or go under the pole barn, but the entire herd made a startling run toward the fence, their backs to the now sideways rain. I realized without the fencing, they would have made a bee-line for the wooded area at the edge of the pasture, where trees would have afforded some relief from the stinging rain. But they were stopped, and there they stood, silently enduring.
A couple of the calves sought and found protection on the leeward sides of their mothers, and I even saw several adults gather closely, shielding this one or that one. A youngster couldn't settle, looking confused--not a baby, but not experienced enough to handle it himself. I urged him forward, though he could not hear me, nor would he have understood, but he finally lined up a little better behind some adults, and stood fast.
It was over in moments, and in only a few moments more, the entire herd had moved almost out of sight to the acreage hit first by the squall. Made sense.....if the storm came from that direction, then presumably to them it was going away from there. Though there might have been one or two old enough, most of this herd had not experienced the repetition of circular bands of hurricanes.
Sporadic bands of drenching rain and high winds were still bustling through, and from the safety of the stalls (horses not in there...they are safer in the pasture) I watched as a very sudden squall descended upon the cracker cattle. I thought maybe they would sit, or go under the pole barn, but the entire herd made a startling run toward the fence, their backs to the now sideways rain. I realized without the fencing, they would have made a bee-line for the wooded area at the edge of the pasture, where trees would have afforded some relief from the stinging rain. But they were stopped, and there they stood, silently enduring.
A couple of the calves sought and found protection on the leeward sides of their mothers, and I even saw several adults gather closely, shielding this one or that one. A youngster couldn't settle, looking confused--not a baby, but not experienced enough to handle it himself. I urged him forward, though he could not hear me, nor would he have understood, but he finally lined up a little better behind some adults, and stood fast.
It was over in moments, and in only a few moments more, the entire herd had moved almost out of sight to the acreage hit first by the squall. Made sense.....if the storm came from that direction, then presumably to them it was going away from there. Though there might have been one or two old enough, most of this herd had not experienced the repetition of circular bands of hurricanes.
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