Cow in a canyon

Surely, this trip will stay in my memory as having one of the strangest turn of events I've ever experienced.

Brian and I had planned on a fun, non-technical canyoneering trip through Peekaboo and Spooky Canyons in Grand Staircase Esacalante National Monument, and if we had time, we would check out some of the other canyons nearby as well. These slot canyons are relatively short so it wouldn't take us much time to move through them.

Our trek started out well in Peekaboo with a mellow approach and a couple of short scrambles at the entrance of the canyon. Traveling through the canyon was considerably easy, but that didn't make the canyon less intriguing.

I'm pretty sure the only word that I used to describe it out loud was "adorable." The small pockets and windows in the canyon were playful and just really really cute, which is not how I would typically describe most natural features, but this was completely appropriate.

We were almost out of the canyon when we were surprised by the presence of a cow, standing in the narrows of the canyon, staring straight at us.We walked slowly toward her to investigate the situation and saw that she had wandered into the canyon and got herself to a pocket big enough where she could turn around and move somewhat freely, but was clearly uncomfortable with moving forward in either direction in the canyon.

She seemed just about as surprised to see us as we were to see her and started to look really uneasy. Seeing that we wouldn't be able to get her to turn to go up-canyon, that we wouldn't be able to move around her, and that she was starting to act very restless and agitated, we decided that it would be best to get out of her way.

We climbed up the walls and out of the canyon, but once we were out, she began to run further down canyon until she got to a point where the canyon was too tight for her to fit through. At least before she could turn around to get pointed in the right direction, but now it seemed like she might not be able to move at all.

Concerned that she might hurt herself and hoping maybe I would be able to see a way to get her out, I dropped back into the canyon to find her stuck in the corner of a tight turn. Just a few feet beyond this turn was a larger pocket where she might be able to at least turn around, but I had nothing to try and help move her out of her position, and she was so wedged into the corner that she was having trouble breathing and bashing her legs against the abrasive sandstone.

There wasn't much that we could do, especially without any tools or equipment to help us, so we figured we had enough time to go back to the truck, grab some things we might be able to use, and come back to see if there was anything we could do. We still wanted to see Spooky Canyon, and since it would take us to our exit, we decided that we might as well go through it. But this canyon was even narrower, and after squeezing and maneuvering awkwardly through really tight sections, I began to empathize with how cramped and frightened the cow must have been feeling.

We made it out of the canyon quickly, trekked back to the truck, loaded our packs with anything and everything we thought might be useful or necessary, and headed right back out to where we last left her. When we arrived we were amazed to see that by some feat of strength and determination, she got herself out of her strained position and was now standing with a bit more space and comfort in the next pocket down-canyon.

The sky was beginning to get darker, and since her situation was no longer quite as dire, we decided to leave her be and call the BLM office when we got in cell service range the next day so they could send the rancher to get her out. With the glimmer of hope for her, we were feeling optimistic in leaving the situation in the hands of the BLM and the rancher.

About a week and a half later, an article was published in the Salt Lake Tribune outlining the pitiful events that occurred after we notified the BLM of the cow. The rancher sent his ranch hands out to the area on ATVs to see if they could get her out. When she got stuck again in another spot in the canyon, they put her down with a shot to the head but were unable to extract all of her carcass, so they tried to light it on fire. Rock and material from above fell into the canyon, putting out the fire and burying the body, and now it lays rotting in one of the most popular slot canyons in Utah.

I feel frustrated and upset about all of this for a variety of reasons. For one thing, it sucks that she somehow ended up there in the first place when that area was not supposed to be open to grazing, but these things happen. In many ways I am heartbroken knowing that there was very little that Brian and I could have done to help her, or that we lacked insight at the time to handle the situation more effectively, but I think we did the best we could with the experience and resources we had for a completely unexpected and challenging incident.

I am of course greatly saddened that she didn't make it out alive, but I find it even more tragic that her body couldn't be salvaged to at least make use of the meat for which she was being raised to begin with. What adds insult to injury above all is that the fragile vegetation and landscape around the canyon got trashed by the ATVs and could take years to recover, and that both visitors and native species will have to deal with the remnants of a series of ill-fated circumstances for years to come.