The sun was blazing hot against the prairie grasses today, and Wesley tromped along the barbed wire fence at the edge of a meadow. He watched a pair of bluebirds flit over his head and smiled to himself. He peered over the hillside once he reached a downward turn in the slope and watched his herd of cows as they grazed in the field below him. New calves pranced about on their wobbly legs, chasing after each other. Wesley sat in the swaying golden fronds and observed the creatures for a while, taking a sandwich out of the satchel around his waist. Two long, white ox horns hung from either side of the bag's strap. He used these to urge the cows to move into other pastures since it was less frightening to them than herding dogs. He stood suddenly as he watched a calf stumble away from the group and down a bank. Its mother ran over and Wesley waited for the calf to return, but the mother only stood facing the fence, crying out for it. It must have gotten through. Wesley ran down the hill, the slope allowing his feet to leave the ground for extended amounts of time and making him feel like he was gliding. He slipped smoothly under the fence and trotted through the cows. They turned their heads lazily to look at him, but seemed unaffected by his presence. He approached the mother cow cautiously and looked at where she had been searching. There was no calf in sight. He crawled beneath the fence, which he noted he needed to make more secure, and the coolness of the tree shade washed over him. The green leaves over his head created a pretty shadow pattern on the soil. He followed the scuffed up dirt for several dozen yards until he reached a curve in the stream. The calf was struggling to stay upright in the moderately paced water, its hazel colored tail swinging frantically. Wesley made to move toward the calf, but it startled and face-planted into the water before regaining its feet after a moment. Wesley stood still and thought. He went downstream and waded across, careful not to move too quickly. He removed the ox horns from his waist and a piece of twine from his bag, wrapping it around them until he could situate them atop his head. He carefully began wading out toward the calf again. It watched him fearfully, but didn't run. Wesley slowly lowered his head and pushed the calf's side with the ox horns. It startled, but moved toward the opposite bank. It was working! It was slow going, but Wesley finally herded the calf back through the trees and into the field, where its concerned mother stood waiting. She hurried her baby away and Wesley smiled, pulling his makeshift horns from his head and dedicating the next hour to reinforcing the fence so no more wandering calves were put in danger.