"There are no cows in Paradise!” came the call over the two-way radio. Paradise is the name for one of the pastures on the 4,200-acre Marriott Ranch, a working cattle ranch in Marshall, Va. My wife, Karen, and I trotted up alongside Harry, the wrangler acting as our guide, as he replied that we couldn’t find any cows either. Another plaintive voice cried out from the radio’s speaker, “Has anyone seen any cows anywhere?” This is not what I had imagined when we signed up for the Marriott Cattle Drive, which is held four times a year.

Earlier that morning at the orientation, the head wrangler had presented the grand scheme: We’d gather up and move the Black Angus down into a lower field. Then we’d round up and herd the Longhorn cows into a new pasture. And finally we’d guide two Longhorn bulls from the main ranch to the cows.

After mounting our Appaloosas, Bandit (mine) and Custer (Karen’s), we warmed up with a long, slow walk in several pastures and through the woods. The group found the Black Angus right away, all lounging in the shade scattered about the forest. We rode up with the others and started to push the cows together to form a herd. Several riders stood alongside the road and created a barrier to funnel the cattle through an open gate. The 50 or so Black Angus didn’t buy the plan. They charged through the woods and over a section of fence that had been knocked down by a fallen tree. Still, they ended up in the intended pasture, and our mission was successful despite our poor herding skills.

We broke back up into small teams and trotted through the woods, over hill and dale, in search of the longhorns. No longhorns. Harry remarked that he’d never spent so much time looking for cows. After about an hour, the Marriott’s wranglers came to the consensus that the animals must be down in Muddy Loop. One by one the voices played out over the small radios — “Yep, Muddy Loop,” “Mmm-hmm, Muddy Loop.” Sure enough, the cattle were down in Muddy Loop, easily hidden in plain sight.

Karen, Harry and I met up with everyone else as they directed the cows from the wooded area into clear pasture. Following Harry’s instructions, Karen and I jogged our horses up to the top of the hill to prevent the cattle from breaking back into the cover of the trees. But just as the the herd of 50 longhorns approached the rise, one turned a couple of hundred feet back and bolted for the woods. I rushed down to help another guy steer the lone cow back into the herd. But then another one broke free … and another one. As if with one mind, the entire herd turned and followed the breakaways into the forest. We gave it another try. And the same damned thing happened again — and again.

So we stopped for lunch.

We rode a few miles to the Marriott Mansion, where a catered lunch awaited the world’s most pathetic cowboys, who feasted on grilled fish, chicken, roasted vegetables, corn muffins and, of course, baked beans. I did feel like a city boy when they brought out dessert, a chocolate and custard parfait served in tall fluted glasses. “Wranglers sure like their parfaits,” I joked to another rider named Mike.

A new plan was presented: Instead of moving the longhorns to a new pasture and then fetching the bulls, we’d simply bring the two bulls the longer distance to the cows. We had guided the enormous animals up and down several small hills when suddenly one of the bulls broke away at full speed. Galloping hard, Karen, Mike and I intercepted it and pushed it back on course. I couldn’t believe it actually worked. Every so often one of the bulls would see a bush and attack it like a crazed beast, digging its horns into the bush and thrashing around violently, churning leaves high up into the air. Jerry would ease right in close and yell, “Hyah! Hyah!” until the bull burst forth with foliage and twigs hanging from its horns. It was one of the funniest things I’d ever seen. Fortunately, the bulls never attacked us, and we succeeded in taking them to the waiting herd of cows. As Bandit traveled the dusty trail to the stables, I leaned back and wondered if I could make it as a cowboy. My sore bottom answered that question for me: No. But I could still have fun pretending.

THE ESSENTIALS

Cattle drives cost $175 per person, with upcoming rides in the fall. You must be an experienced rider. The ranch also offers trail rides, overnight rides and Western Vacation Adventure Packages. For more information, contact the Marriott Ranch at (877) 278-4574 or visit www.marriottranch.com. There is also a 10-room bed-and-breakfast at the ranch, The Inn at Fairfield Farm, with room rates from $125 to $195. For reservations, call (540) 364-2627.