The other day while riding through the heavy cows.....it was beautiful. The sun was shining. The grass just coming on. Barely a breeze. My Maggie mare walking on a loose rein through the cows. The air felt perfect. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Until.....way off to the north I could see something. Something that didn't look quite right to me. I can't really tell you why it didn't look right. Just one of those things you kinda get so you can tell after a while, I guess. I picked up Maggie to a trot and headed over to check it out.
Long before I reached my destination, I was pretty sure what I was going to find. And unfortunately I was right. It was an older cow that couldn't get up. I don't know why this happens. I do my best to keep it from happening. I cull everything I think might have a tough time during the winter. I write down and make sure I look up anything that's slow or lame. Bless this old gal's heart. She'd made it through the tough part of the year. It's green grass time! But for some reason, it was too much for this old gal. And to top it off, she'd had her calf, but was too weak to take care of it and had probably been too weak to push it out as quick as she should. It was dead. Probably still born due to lack of oxygen.
It broke my heart. I cried all the way home. At the last gate, I sent Matt a text message telling him we needed to put this old gal down and out of her misery. Now you might be wondering, "why doesn't she just nurse her back to health?" Trust me. I've tried it. I've carried water and feed to cows for weeks trying to get them enough strength to get them to get up. It just isn't going to happen. They are finished. What does happen is they get mad. Really mad. So mad if they COULD get up, they would eat you for lunch. That's what bovine do when they are sick or hurt a lot of the time. But really, who could blame them?
Matt met me at Dad's and as soon as I had Maggie taken care of, we drove back over to where the old gal was laying. On the way, we discussed how much this part of the ranching life sucks. How difficult it is to have to put something out of their misery, but how we owe it to them as their caregivers. "It's just part of it, I guess" Matt says,"I don't get any enjoyment out of it and I want to end it for her as quick as I can. But I'm glad I can do it." I'm glad he can too.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
My First Love
Think back a little with me......who or what was your first love? Was it a special doll or toy? Maybe a very special loved one? A pet, maybe? I have no doubt about my first love......HORSES!
My mom wrote a lot of "firsts" in my baby book for several years after I was born. One of the "firsts" was the "first time I ran away"! I was almost a three year old when Mom wrote that I came up missing one afternoon. Everyone in the family was looking around the yard and in the obvious places behind the house. Finally, someone went to the barn. There I was, perched on the fence, trying to lure my dad's old grey gelding, "Danny Peanuts" over to the fence. It appeared I was going to get on him. My plan was foiled as I was taken back to the house before my mission was accomplished. So I guess you could say I got a fairly early start being in love with horses.
I think I've mentioned before that Dad didn't think I should have a pony or a horse. Sometimes I think he actually hoped I wouldn't ride.....to keep me from getting hurt. So compared to a lot of country kids, I got kind of a late start riding. But I remember being pretty little and begging rides from kids at the fair or any other time someone would let me get on with them!
My first real horse's name was Splash. She was a loud paint mare, half welsh, I think and half quarter horse. Splash was actually purchased for my oldest brother but it wasn't long before he outgrew her. She made her way down through my second brother and then my sister, before finally becoming my horse. We were the same age, I recall. It was about the time she became my horse, that I needed a babysitter and a friend. I think I was seven. I very well remember luring her into the barn with feed and standing on the mangers to saddle her. She was not the most cooperative horse in the world. Splash had seen plenty in her years and while she wouldn't hurt you on purpose, (or very badly anyway) being saddled and ridden by a little kid wasn't really on her "to do" list for the day. I got pretty frustrated but always kept on trying. Some might say I was just more stubborn than she was. I'd probably go along with that.....so would most anyone who knows me very well. But despite the fact that Splash really didn't care much about having me ride her, sometimes I just brushed her or sat and petted her. And talked to her. And she listened as only a horse can. She heard my thoughts and felt my emotions. I needed that at that time.
There have been many, many horses throughout my life. They have been with me through my teenage years and through college. When life was "unstable", horses gave me stability. In college, when I was on the rodeo team, I think one of the things that gave me the most enjoyment, wasn't so much the fact that I was in rodeo, it was that I had a friend from home, right there waiting for me every day. Someone stable who listened and helped to keep me grounded. That has carried on throughout my adult life too. Horses have always been that defining factor for me. I have learned more than I can tell you from horses. Not just about what horses do, but about life.....about sticking with things, about responsibility, about loyalty.
So I have always loved horses. Much of the time, I'm pretty sure I understand horses a lot better than I do people. And even though a horse might not do exactly what I want when I want, that gives me another opportunity to learn something. To think about a new way to show a horse a particular thing. And I think that can carry over to us as humans too.
My mom wrote a lot of "firsts" in my baby book for several years after I was born. One of the "firsts" was the "first time I ran away"! I was almost a three year old when Mom wrote that I came up missing one afternoon. Everyone in the family was looking around the yard and in the obvious places behind the house. Finally, someone went to the barn. There I was, perched on the fence, trying to lure my dad's old grey gelding, "Danny Peanuts" over to the fence. It appeared I was going to get on him. My plan was foiled as I was taken back to the house before my mission was accomplished. So I guess you could say I got a fairly early start being in love with horses.
I think I've mentioned before that Dad didn't think I should have a pony or a horse. Sometimes I think he actually hoped I wouldn't ride.....to keep me from getting hurt. So compared to a lot of country kids, I got kind of a late start riding. But I remember being pretty little and begging rides from kids at the fair or any other time someone would let me get on with them!
My first real horse's name was Splash. She was a loud paint mare, half welsh, I think and half quarter horse. Splash was actually purchased for my oldest brother but it wasn't long before he outgrew her. She made her way down through my second brother and then my sister, before finally becoming my horse. We were the same age, I recall. It was about the time she became my horse, that I needed a babysitter and a friend. I think I was seven. I very well remember luring her into the barn with feed and standing on the mangers to saddle her. She was not the most cooperative horse in the world. Splash had seen plenty in her years and while she wouldn't hurt you on purpose, (or very badly anyway) being saddled and ridden by a little kid wasn't really on her "to do" list for the day. I got pretty frustrated but always kept on trying. Some might say I was just more stubborn than she was. I'd probably go along with that.....so would most anyone who knows me very well. But despite the fact that Splash really didn't care much about having me ride her, sometimes I just brushed her or sat and petted her. And talked to her. And she listened as only a horse can. She heard my thoughts and felt my emotions. I needed that at that time.
There have been many, many horses throughout my life. They have been with me through my teenage years and through college. When life was "unstable", horses gave me stability. In college, when I was on the rodeo team, I think one of the things that gave me the most enjoyment, wasn't so much the fact that I was in rodeo, it was that I had a friend from home, right there waiting for me every day. Someone stable who listened and helped to keep me grounded. That has carried on throughout my adult life too. Horses have always been that defining factor for me. I have learned more than I can tell you from horses. Not just about what horses do, but about life.....about sticking with things, about responsibility, about loyalty.
So I have always loved horses. Much of the time, I'm pretty sure I understand horses a lot better than I do people. And even though a horse might not do exactly what I want when I want, that gives me another opportunity to learn something. To think about a new way to show a horse a particular thing. And I think that can carry over to us as humans too.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Switched At Birth
Yesterday was a busy day in the heifer lot. Those little gals were gettin' busy havin' babies. An interesting thing happened. There were two heifers, about 40 yards apart in the exact same stages of labor. Started at the same time and everything. One heifer (number 39) was in the corner, the other (number 40) was up on a little knoll. Thirty nine laid down and pushed her calf out a little quicker than 40 did, but outside of that, it was like watching everything in tandem.
Now when 39 finished pushing out her little bull calf, two other heifers (already mamas themselves) came over to show her how to take care of Junior. The bad thing about this was when Junior finally got up, he didn't really know which cow was his mama. He kind of latched on to one and he wasn't right. This cow was gently but firmly nudging him away from her udder and he would walk all the way around this cow and wind up back where he started. All the while, 39 is mooing and following him around, but unsure how to get Junior to follow and nurse her.
I watched this go on for a while (until 40 had pushed out her calf and he was standing) when I decided I had better help things along. In general, it is not a good idea to walk right into three mama cows huddled over a newborn. Someone (usually me) is bound to either get run over or hurt. I got on the 4 wheeler and proceeded to very gently push the other cows away from 39 so she and her calf could get things straightened out. The cows moved away just fine, but for some reason 39 followed and so did Junior. And they all went right into where 40 was just getting things situated with her little bull calf up on the knoll.
The other cows kept going and then it was a jumble between 39 and 40 and their two little newborn bull calves. They were both mooing and licking their calf and then turning around and mooing and licking the other one's calf, too. It looked for a minute or two like they were both going to claim the same calf and I was going to have to intervene again. But then each one kind of latched on to a calf. But neither had the one they had given birth to. And gradually, they started moving apart with the "new" calf. Now for me, it does not matter one bit WHO takes care of a calf, just as long as he has a mama and she feeds him and looks him up to care for him. So as long as each cow is content, so am I.
It's just one of those kind of interesting things you don't see everyday.
Now when 39 finished pushing out her little bull calf, two other heifers (already mamas themselves) came over to show her how to take care of Junior. The bad thing about this was when Junior finally got up, he didn't really know which cow was his mama. He kind of latched on to one and he wasn't right. This cow was gently but firmly nudging him away from her udder and he would walk all the way around this cow and wind up back where he started. All the while, 39 is mooing and following him around, but unsure how to get Junior to follow and nurse her.
I watched this go on for a while (until 40 had pushed out her calf and he was standing) when I decided I had better help things along. In general, it is not a good idea to walk right into three mama cows huddled over a newborn. Someone (usually me) is bound to either get run over or hurt. I got on the 4 wheeler and proceeded to very gently push the other cows away from 39 so she and her calf could get things straightened out. The cows moved away just fine, but for some reason 39 followed and so did Junior. And they all went right into where 40 was just getting things situated with her little bull calf up on the knoll.
The other cows kept going and then it was a jumble between 39 and 40 and their two little newborn bull calves. They were both mooing and licking their calf and then turning around and mooing and licking the other one's calf, too. It looked for a minute or two like they were both going to claim the same calf and I was going to have to intervene again. But then each one kind of latched on to a calf. But neither had the one they had given birth to. And gradually, they started moving apart with the "new" calf. Now for me, it does not matter one bit WHO takes care of a calf, just as long as he has a mama and she feeds him and looks him up to care for him. So as long as each cow is content, so am I.
It's just one of those kind of interesting things you don't see everyday.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
I Really Should Have Paid More Attention in Home Ec
Women with jobs and clean houses amaze and bewilder me.....how on earth do they find the time, the energy and the desire to come home from work and clean house? Even more amazing to me, and somewhat off the subject, I might add, are women who have children and not only have clean houses but manage to get anywhere on time. It must be some kind of instinct I was born without.
I can control a 1000 pound cow, make a horse do what I ask of it, pull calves and tough out snowstorms and hot days in the sun, but my Eight Pound Orek XL can whip the tar out of me. When I move some of the bigger furniture items to vacuum under them, other items appear (out of nowhere??) either falling or climbing out from under the furniture. How does this happen? Where did this stuff come from? Maybe one should move these things more often than once a year... if not for actual cleaning purposes, just to make sure the area isn't inhabited by ninja dust bunnies.
I'm thinking I should have paid more attention in Home Ec.
I can control a 1000 pound cow, make a horse do what I ask of it, pull calves and tough out snowstorms and hot days in the sun, but my Eight Pound Orek XL can whip the tar out of me. When I move some of the bigger furniture items to vacuum under them, other items appear (out of nowhere??) either falling or climbing out from under the furniture. How does this happen? Where did this stuff come from? Maybe one should move these things more often than once a year... if not for actual cleaning purposes, just to make sure the area isn't inhabited by ninja dust bunnies.
I'm thinking I should have paid more attention in Home Ec.
Monday, March 12, 2012
The Maternity Pen
In that nice calving shed Dad built, are eight stalls. I have only had it completely full on one occasion back in the late 90's. We had a terrible snowstorm and had heifers and cows both in there to calve. I even had cows locked in the alleyway. Anyplace out of the weather. We saved a lot of calves during that storm because of that shed. So I am really thankful we've had it. It is a great little barn.
My biggest complaint about this little shed is that it does not have any sort of head catch device for restraining a heifer if we need to pull a calf. So for 20 some years now, we have put the heifer in a stall and roped her around the neck, tied her as short as possible, opened the gate to her stall and set to work getting the calf out of her. The problems with this method are if you don't get the cow tied short enough, she is going to have a lot of room to thrash around or she can choke herself with the rope if she fights it very long. Over the years, we've had several choke themselves to the point I had to loosen the rope so they could catch their air. I've only lost one cow to choke. I hate it that it's even one, but it happened last year. She was too scared and too wild. I just couldn't get the rope loosened up in time. I felt terrible about it. And that's when I really got to thinking about making some changes.
Now this thrashing around part is not good either. Maybe I should explain how pulling a calf works and that will help you understand a little more why the thrashing is a bad thing. As soon as I can get close to the heifer (she WILL fight the rope for a while), I need to get the chains around the feet, presuming feet are showing, which is usually the case. I loop an end around each foot and secure them over the calf's dewclaws. When the chains are on securely, the pullers come next. There is a strap that fits over the cow's back which is hooked to a metal piece shaped kind of like a U. It rests up against the cow's butt. Then the ratchet hooks into this metal piece. There is a hook in the ratchet piece that the chains hook into. This ratchet piece is a long pipe, probably about 6 feet long. If a cow has too much rope, she starts swinging this 6 foot long pipe around with me at the end of it. Also, the rope is usually tied off somewhere, so not only am I dodging the swinging 6 foot long pipe, I'm also ducking under the rope to get away from the pipe. Not to mention, making sure I don't get stepped on or kicked. By the grace of God, I have never been hurt doing this. But I've come close on several occasions.
So for several years now, I've been thinking there has to be something better than the "tie up the cow method" I've grown so used to. By some streak of luck, I saw a thing called a maternity pen advertised in a ranch magazine. I didn't know exactly what it was, but from the looks of it, it had a head catch and formed into a place where I could pull a calf or nurse one if necessary and I would be a lot safer. I looked at one at a ranch sale and I also looked at one that a neighbor has. It looked like a pretty good deal. But then Matt and I were looking on a web site and found a video of what has this year become to me.......(cue angels singing) THE GREATEST INVENTION EVER!!!
The maternity pen I purchased is probably the most expensive one on the market. I don't know.....and I don't care. This thing has made my life so much better. I cannot even explain to you how much easier it has made things for me. I am so glad I bought it. And the funny thing is, this morning, Dad says, "I didn't even know you could get something like this. But it sure works slick." That's about as close to a compliment as you get from my dad. It's ok with me. I'll take it.
Monday, February 20, 2012
"Three Ropes the Cow"
Well...it's almost calving time and I get to thinking about things that happened in years past. One story that comes to mind is the story of "Three Ropes the Cow".
Along about three years ago, we got a pretty big snowstorm, about a foot of snow, right smack dab in the middle of calving. We don't like that, but as Dad says, "we take what we get. What choice do we have?" The cows were in behind the windbreaks for the storm, fed and bedded on straw. It's about as good as we can do for them.
But this day was sunny, almost no wind, the snow was settling, the cows had started to make their way out to the hilltops and they were finding a few blades of grass to make a living. Now, normally, when I drive into a pasture, run my siren or the cows catch a glimpse of the cake pickup, they come at as quick of a pace as they are able. So I was pretty sure something wasn't quite right when I looked up on that big hill and saw a cow still just laying up there.
It was a ways to get to that hill and I had to pick my way on account of all the deep snow. When I got there, I can't say I much liked what I saw. There was a black white face cow, with big black panda eyes laying on a little bare patch of ground with a big white head sticking out of her back end. No feet....this is not what we like to see. I was pretty sure the calf was still alive and the cow was either sick enough or gentle enough to let me up close to her. If I had a rope, I could rope her around the neck, dally to the bumper of the pickup and see what would be necessary to get that baby out of her. But of course, I didn't have a rope. I had a tow strap. One of those 20,000 pound, flat (about 4 inches wide), about 20 feet long with big loops in the end. It weighs roughly 5 pounds. You can't rope a cow with one of these. I know this. From experience.
So I headed back to Dad's place, about 5 miles from where the cow was. He saddled up Tim and I grabbed the calving chains and puller (a ratchet type device that rests up against the cow's butt and helps extract a calf that is difficult to get out), threw them on Matt's pickup and Dad and I trailered Tim as far as we could without getting the pickup and trailer stuck in the snow. Dad set off cross country riding Tim and Matt picked me up with his pickup.
We all reached the cow at about the same time. The game plan was for Dad to rope the cow, Matt to drive the pickup to the cow, dally to the pickup and I would work on the cow. It sounded like a solid plan. And it was.....except that Dad's rope broke. There were two more ropes in that pickup (apparently that's where every rope on the place was since there wasn't one in my pickup) and Dad set off with the second one.
The cow pretty much had this deal figured out and what followed was a series of Dad tracking the cow( following her in a position to rope her) through the deep snow, him getting a shot to rope her and the cow either ducking her head or dodging and turning off. All the while, there was this big white head sticking out of her back end, bobbing along as she ran.....once in a while, he'd open his eyes and look at us with this big eyed, "what the heck is goin' on here?" look. Finally Dad got the cow roped. About the time the rope came tight, Tim decided enough was enough and went to bucking. He put his heart into it. He was serious. It was the real deal here, folks! Dad let go of his dally and ended up getting bucked off in a snow drift.
AND NOW I AM PISSED!!! I took off chasing after ol' Tim through the deep snow, using every expletive that I knew at the time. Come to think of it, I may have added a few to my vocabulary that day. After I got Tim caught up and delivered back to Dad, I set out chasing the cow (now dragging two ropes), afoot through the knee deep snow.
It was about this time that Matt, who was driving the pickup over to Dad and the cow after the second loop fit, drove into a hole with deep, deep snow and got the pickup stuck.....to add insult to injury, the only shovel in that pickup was one with a handle about as long as my arm. Apparently, we stored ropes in that pickup, but not shovels. So Matt was left to dig out the pickup on his own, with a little kid shovel. It just keeps getting better, doesn't it?
The cow headed back to the windbreak. Not TO the windbreak, IN the windbreak. Trees are spaced very closely together and in doing the job they are supposed to do, they hold a LOT of snow in them. My plan was to try to grab one of the ropes she was dragging while she was stuck or slowed down in a drift and dally the rope to a tree or fencepost or hold her enough until Dad could get there. This did not happen. The only thing that did happen was both me and the cow trudged through some very deep drifts, tiring us both out. We ended up on the far side of the windbreak where the snow had drifted over the fence.
Now, I can't say who left the gate open. None of us remembers who did it or why. But it was open. And that cow made a beeline for it like it had a beacon light on it. About that time, Dad was back on her heels and somehow made the throw of the century with the last and third rope. He caught the cow right up next to the fence. I fumbled over through the snow and took the rope, dallied it to a good fencepost and set to work getting the calf out. The cow was tired enough that she didn't put up much of a fight. And the extraction was not a difficult one. I'd had the presence of mind to grab my chains and carry them with me and the feet were easy to get ahold of and bring out. I found a piece of an old fencepost laying close by and used it for leverage to pull the calf out. He was alive and strong, despite the whole ordeal, so that was a relief to us all!
Along about this time, Matt came driving up! He'd used the little kid shovel to get the pickup out and came as quick as he could!
Now you'd think that would be the end of the story. But here's something you need to know about a cow. If she's been jostled around like this cow had, there's a pretty good chance that she is going to head for high country and never look back for several days. She might say to heck with a calf and just about everything else and we will have a bottle baby on our hands. It's important that you understand this.
The only dry patch of ground was on the side of the fence where the cow was supposed to be anyway, so I drug the calf over to it and got out of the way so Dad could drive the cow back over to her calf. She darted right back through the gate but as soon as Dad got up along side to turn her, she must have thought he was going to rope her again. She darted off the opposite direction and apparently a several minute chase ensued. I couldn't see it from my vantage point at the windbreak. Finally, Dad got her back on track, heading toward her calf at a pretty stiff trot. She trotted right on by. Then, about fifteen feet past the calf, stopped dead in her tracks as if she'd caught a whiff of him. It was looking hopeful, anyway. She turned back and went to him, gave him a sniff and went to licking and talking to him! So in the end, everything turned out great. Mother and son were both safe and healthy and that's what we're in the business to do!
We still have ol' Three Ropes. She raises us a good calf every year. But I don't guess I'll soon forget the day she got her name.
Along about three years ago, we got a pretty big snowstorm, about a foot of snow, right smack dab in the middle of calving. We don't like that, but as Dad says, "we take what we get. What choice do we have?" The cows were in behind the windbreaks for the storm, fed and bedded on straw. It's about as good as we can do for them.
But this day was sunny, almost no wind, the snow was settling, the cows had started to make their way out to the hilltops and they were finding a few blades of grass to make a living. Now, normally, when I drive into a pasture, run my siren or the cows catch a glimpse of the cake pickup, they come at as quick of a pace as they are able. So I was pretty sure something wasn't quite right when I looked up on that big hill and saw a cow still just laying up there.
It was a ways to get to that hill and I had to pick my way on account of all the deep snow. When I got there, I can't say I much liked what I saw. There was a black white face cow, with big black panda eyes laying on a little bare patch of ground with a big white head sticking out of her back end. No feet....this is not what we like to see. I was pretty sure the calf was still alive and the cow was either sick enough or gentle enough to let me up close to her. If I had a rope, I could rope her around the neck, dally to the bumper of the pickup and see what would be necessary to get that baby out of her. But of course, I didn't have a rope. I had a tow strap. One of those 20,000 pound, flat (about 4 inches wide), about 20 feet long with big loops in the end. It weighs roughly 5 pounds. You can't rope a cow with one of these. I know this. From experience.
So I headed back to Dad's place, about 5 miles from where the cow was. He saddled up Tim and I grabbed the calving chains and puller (a ratchet type device that rests up against the cow's butt and helps extract a calf that is difficult to get out), threw them on Matt's pickup and Dad and I trailered Tim as far as we could without getting the pickup and trailer stuck in the snow. Dad set off cross country riding Tim and Matt picked me up with his pickup.
We all reached the cow at about the same time. The game plan was for Dad to rope the cow, Matt to drive the pickup to the cow, dally to the pickup and I would work on the cow. It sounded like a solid plan. And it was.....except that Dad's rope broke. There were two more ropes in that pickup (apparently that's where every rope on the place was since there wasn't one in my pickup) and Dad set off with the second one.
The cow pretty much had this deal figured out and what followed was a series of Dad tracking the cow( following her in a position to rope her) through the deep snow, him getting a shot to rope her and the cow either ducking her head or dodging and turning off. All the while, there was this big white head sticking out of her back end, bobbing along as she ran.....once in a while, he'd open his eyes and look at us with this big eyed, "what the heck is goin' on here?" look. Finally Dad got the cow roped. About the time the rope came tight, Tim decided enough was enough and went to bucking. He put his heart into it. He was serious. It was the real deal here, folks! Dad let go of his dally and ended up getting bucked off in a snow drift.
AND NOW I AM PISSED!!! I took off chasing after ol' Tim through the deep snow, using every expletive that I knew at the time. Come to think of it, I may have added a few to my vocabulary that day. After I got Tim caught up and delivered back to Dad, I set out chasing the cow (now dragging two ropes), afoot through the knee deep snow.
It was about this time that Matt, who was driving the pickup over to Dad and the cow after the second loop fit, drove into a hole with deep, deep snow and got the pickup stuck.....to add insult to injury, the only shovel in that pickup was one with a handle about as long as my arm. Apparently, we stored ropes in that pickup, but not shovels. So Matt was left to dig out the pickup on his own, with a little kid shovel. It just keeps getting better, doesn't it?
The cow headed back to the windbreak. Not TO the windbreak, IN the windbreak. Trees are spaced very closely together and in doing the job they are supposed to do, they hold a LOT of snow in them. My plan was to try to grab one of the ropes she was dragging while she was stuck or slowed down in a drift and dally the rope to a tree or fencepost or hold her enough until Dad could get there. This did not happen. The only thing that did happen was both me and the cow trudged through some very deep drifts, tiring us both out. We ended up on the far side of the windbreak where the snow had drifted over the fence.
Now, I can't say who left the gate open. None of us remembers who did it or why. But it was open. And that cow made a beeline for it like it had a beacon light on it. About that time, Dad was back on her heels and somehow made the throw of the century with the last and third rope. He caught the cow right up next to the fence. I fumbled over through the snow and took the rope, dallied it to a good fencepost and set to work getting the calf out. The cow was tired enough that she didn't put up much of a fight. And the extraction was not a difficult one. I'd had the presence of mind to grab my chains and carry them with me and the feet were easy to get ahold of and bring out. I found a piece of an old fencepost laying close by and used it for leverage to pull the calf out. He was alive and strong, despite the whole ordeal, so that was a relief to us all!
Along about this time, Matt came driving up! He'd used the little kid shovel to get the pickup out and came as quick as he could!
Now you'd think that would be the end of the story. But here's something you need to know about a cow. If she's been jostled around like this cow had, there's a pretty good chance that she is going to head for high country and never look back for several days. She might say to heck with a calf and just about everything else and we will have a bottle baby on our hands. It's important that you understand this.
The only dry patch of ground was on the side of the fence where the cow was supposed to be anyway, so I drug the calf over to it and got out of the way so Dad could drive the cow back over to her calf. She darted right back through the gate but as soon as Dad got up along side to turn her, she must have thought he was going to rope her again. She darted off the opposite direction and apparently a several minute chase ensued. I couldn't see it from my vantage point at the windbreak. Finally, Dad got her back on track, heading toward her calf at a pretty stiff trot. She trotted right on by. Then, about fifteen feet past the calf, stopped dead in her tracks as if she'd caught a whiff of him. It was looking hopeful, anyway. She turned back and went to him, gave him a sniff and went to licking and talking to him! So in the end, everything turned out great. Mother and son were both safe and healthy and that's what we're in the business to do!
We still have ol' Three Ropes. She raises us a good calf every year. But I don't guess I'll soon forget the day she got her name.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
The Duke Didn't Have It Quite Right....(in my opinion)
I imagine most everyone has seen the John Wayne quote, "Courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyway." Well, since I haven't posted anything in quite a while, I'll get on my soapbox a little about this quote.
The Duke is wrong about this....I know he was speaking metaphorically, so he can say it however he wants to. But here's the fact of the matter. I've saddled a fair number of horses that I was pretty sure were going to buck. Trust me when I say, saddling is the easy part. They might buck when you're saddling and they might stand there all puffed up waiting to move or they might look all relaxed until they move. But if you've ridden even one colt or horse that has a little buck in them, you know this....it ain't too scary to saddle them. Not too many bad things will happen if you are paying attention at all.
However......once you get that saddle on and the cinch tightened enough to keep the saddle on and do a little ground work and run back to the house for another cup of coffee and check your facebook account on your phone and scratch everything you can think of to scratch and....and......and.....At some point, you are going to have to put that left foot in the stirrup. That isn't really too tough either. If my cinch is tight enough, I can hang in the left stirrup all day. I can even hang there and bounce a little while the colt moves around. Hardly scary at all if you keep your foot where it needs to be in the stirrup. But EVENTUALLY.....you are going to have to swing that right foot over that horse's back and put it on the other side of that horse. THAT'S WHERE THE COURAGE COMES IN.
You know if you've ridden any broncy thing on this earth that you need to stay relaxed. Keep your muscles relaxed and your body relaxed. Keep your thoughts relaxed. But that is not the easiest thing to do. Your brain tells you all the things you know you should be doing......but your body goes into self preservation mode. And then you think, "maybe I should have had just one more cup of coffee. No wait...now I gotta pee."
Seriously, I know what the Duke meant when he coined this quote. He was saying it takes courage to start something when you are afraid. And no doubt about it, that's right. There are lot's of folks who just need that little push to "start". And maybe that quote is just the thing they need to hear to do it. But as usual, I had to put my two cents worth in.
The Duke is wrong about this....I know he was speaking metaphorically, so he can say it however he wants to. But here's the fact of the matter. I've saddled a fair number of horses that I was pretty sure were going to buck. Trust me when I say, saddling is the easy part. They might buck when you're saddling and they might stand there all puffed up waiting to move or they might look all relaxed until they move. But if you've ridden even one colt or horse that has a little buck in them, you know this....it ain't too scary to saddle them. Not too many bad things will happen if you are paying attention at all.
However......once you get that saddle on and the cinch tightened enough to keep the saddle on and do a little ground work and run back to the house for another cup of coffee and check your facebook account on your phone and scratch everything you can think of to scratch and....and......and.....At some point, you are going to have to put that left foot in the stirrup. That isn't really too tough either. If my cinch is tight enough, I can hang in the left stirrup all day. I can even hang there and bounce a little while the colt moves around. Hardly scary at all if you keep your foot where it needs to be in the stirrup. But EVENTUALLY.....you are going to have to swing that right foot over that horse's back and put it on the other side of that horse. THAT'S WHERE THE COURAGE COMES IN.
You know if you've ridden any broncy thing on this earth that you need to stay relaxed. Keep your muscles relaxed and your body relaxed. Keep your thoughts relaxed. But that is not the easiest thing to do. Your brain tells you all the things you know you should be doing......but your body goes into self preservation mode. And then you think, "maybe I should have had just one more cup of coffee. No wait...now I gotta pee."
Seriously, I know what the Duke meant when he coined this quote. He was saying it takes courage to start something when you are afraid. And no doubt about it, that's right. There are lot's of folks who just need that little push to "start". And maybe that quote is just the thing they need to hear to do it. But as usual, I had to put my two cents worth in.
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