Flying cowboy rides to save livestock
Wild helicopter ride was part of modern-day rescue operation for cattle at risk of drowning in floodwaters from Harvey
Ryan Ashcraft spotted some cattle loitering in standing water under a clump of trees and came out of a long, sweeping curve in his small helicopter to drop toward a clearing so narrow it seemed the blades might give the treetops a haircut — and potentially send Ashcraft and his passenger on a oneway trip to the afterlife.
Ashcraft, 22, dipped toward the cattle and then pulled up sharply and hovered; the maneuver made the blades produce a sharp POP-POP-POPPOP-POP. The animals hate the noise, which puts many of them on the run.
This wild ride Friday was part of a modernday rescue operation for stranded cattle at risk of drowning in the floodwaters produced by the unprecedented rainfall from Hurricane Harvey.
No numbers have been released on the number of cattle missing or dead, but it will certainly be in the thousands. Throughout the weekend, distressed ranchers posted calls for help, as well as images of rescues to Facebook and Twitter, and on the Texas and Southwestern Cattle Raisers Association site.
The cattle Ashcraft drove from the air this weekend were part of about 100 head scattered near the banks of the Colorado River. The Colorado was high and rising. Their owner wanted the cows driven away from that dangerous perch and moved onto higher ground. Ashcraft and two other helicopter pilots were there to encourage these little dogies to git along.
When flood warnings reached Lindsey Lee Bradford, a fourth-generation rancher from Cordele, in Jackson County, on Thursday, she and her husband followed the cattle raiser association’s recommendation to move their 135 cows and 100 calves to safer ground before evacuating. By Tuesday, floodwaters cut off the ranch, making it impossible to feed or water the herd — or know the animals’ fate.
Ranchers and officials have set up a number of supply points across Texas with free hay and fresh water for cattle, as well as provisions for other animals. More than 80 makeshift shelters have been established in fairgrounds, parking lots and pastures, housing thousands of displaced cattle, horses, sheep, goats and domestic pets. As of Friday, 2,731 animals were being held in such facilities across the state, the Texas Animal Health Commission reported.
Ashcraft said he felt compelled to jump in. “Our town turned into a lake,” he said.
The son of a prominent local rancher, he offered help to neighbors in Brazoria County whose cattle were caught in the rising water. Requests poured in. “It’s just phone call after phone call,” Ashcraft said Friday. “People are calling me crying,” he said, “saying their cattle are going to drown.” He has been flying from dawn to dusk, working sometimes for pay, sometimes not. He has helped people in Brazoria, Fort Bend and Colorado counties. Where cattle are marooned, he flies in with John Fitzgerald, a friend and Ashcraft’s “swimmer.” Fitzgerald jumps from the helicopter into the water to cut an opening in the fences to set the cattle free, grabs the skids and climbs back in. “He’s a strong little booger,” Ashcraft observed. Back in the air, Ashcraft continued his beneficial harassment of the animals, buzzing them and then jinking left or right to rise out for a new approach.
For the most stubborn old bulls, Ashcraft had a pistol loaded with cartridges of rat-shot: small pellets that can kill a rat or snake, but only sting a thick-skinned animal like a cow. All the while, the three pilots coordinated their movements over the radio, making sure that they stayed out of one another’s way.
The scattered cattle — a motley assemblage of breeds, including creamy Charolais, hump-shouldered Brahman and Simmental — coalesced into a driven herd, lumbering old bulls and skittering calves, lining up along a rutted dirt road and heading toward what is usually a narrow creek, but which was now more than 150 feet across.
Then things went awry. The front of the herd turned north to walk along the creek — a direction that would take them back to the inundated banks of the Colorado. So Ryan and his other pilots buzzed the cattle until they pivoted east and started swimming across the creek. But the line of cattle, fighting the current, missed a nice break in the trees and couldn’t seem to orient itself toward the desired shore; they started swimming in a swirling circle, which could lead to a panic and drownings.
More buzzing. More mashing. The circle broke up, and the pilots urged the cattle toward a break in the trees. Some cows straggled through, while the rest turned back to the original bank.
“Well, that didn’t work so well,” Ashcraft grumbled over the radio channel. The men conferred, and decided to leave the cattle to “rest up a little bit.” The sun was setting, and they can’t do this work at night.
It was time to go home and get some rest.