There was a grassfire Tuesday night.
I was thinking my cowboy was more than a little crazy when he insisted on getting the pump working on a well (for some cows that had two dugouts to drink at) close to dark just about the time a storm was set to hit.
Not me, I stayed at the yard and rushed out to round up our horses and have them close (in the barn) in case there was a lightening-caused fire. And there was, at the neighbor’s.
My cowboy came tearing back to pick up the truck we have set up with water and a sprayer for just such grass fires. He gave me too few details and had me call 911. After I made the call I took our spare truck down the road to see how much of a threat it was to the cattle we take care of.
By the time I found the fire’s exact location I had an evacuation plan in mind for our cattle that I knew were the closest.
But thanks to my cowboy’s foolish foray into the storm he saw the beginnings of the fire and with our preparedness he was able to help dowse the fire before it spread very far. I think only a couple hundred of acres of grass was lost.
So I had to re-evaluate my opinion of crazy and decide that maybe the Lords’s whispering was in an old cowboy fussing over cows in a lightening storm.