The kingdoms of Nevada and Idaho have joined hands—not in holy matrimony, but in a fine bureaucratic fandango that lets unvaccinated cows cross their invisible fencelines for the noble pursuit of eatin’ grass. It’s rare to see government agencies allow anything to move about freely, but when it’s cows and commerce–exceptions are made quicker than a jackrabbit at a gun show.
The Nevada Department of Agriculture, bless its acronymic soul, announced the deal was born of hardship—a shortage, no less, of that mystical serum known as the RB51 brucellosis vaccine. Please, don’t ask me to spell brucellosis without sneezin’.
It’s a cow disease, or maybe a bureaucrat disease, where the cure involves needles, long forms, and even longer waiting periods.
Turns out, producers haven’t been able to vaccinate their bovine babies due to this drought of syringes and sense. And since the law says no shot, no travel, the cattle were stuck like congressperson in a budget session. But now, thanks to this shiny new agreement, cows under 18 months of age who missed their magical jab can wander between Idaho and Nevada with a government-issued permission slip—presumably stamped, signed, notarized, and blessed by three saints and a deputy director.
But don’t mistake this act of grace for anarchy. Cattlemen still have to call up, request a permit, and likely provide three generations of lineage for each steer, including a photograph and social security number. The irony, dear reader, is served like a rare chuck steak.
While the cow might skip its vaccine today, the citizen who eats the cow tomorrow won’t be so lucky–as no doubt some enterprising department will find a way to lace your sirloin with compliance. So, one way or another, they’ll jab you with a needle, mandate, or marinade.
So, the cows may roam free today, but you can be sure the bureaucracy’s still branding us all—whether on the shoulder, the wallet, or the dinner plate.
God bless the cattle. And heaven help the people.
The Old Blog in the Desert 
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