![]() ![]() “Anytime you’re ready,” Stu Anderson said in a bored tone. An orange lever was held fast to the side of the cylinder by a twisted and sealed wire. There Lloyd Bratz, stocky and self-assured, knelt over the butt end of a gray metal canister that was sunk into a special port in the floor. The seat to his right had been removed for the installation of special equipment. Two men rode inside the modified Lockheed 286E. Stuart: Anderson, tall and slim, his eyes hidden behind tinted aviator glasses, was at the controls. They were accustomed to the walloping commotion above their feeding grounds. The cows barely glanced up at the chopper. ![]() They seemed to know exactly how close they could come to the wire without getting a jolt of electricity. Half a dozen Holsteins grazed in a pasture beyond the fence. The helicopter came in low, following an electrified fence that bordered a cracked and neglected blacktop road. ![]()
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