Never Sell Your Saddle

 

Several years ago I used that song for a photo video I made for one of my favorite cowboys who loved what he did, but was tired of the politics and headed back home to the midwest. There's just something about staying connected with the land, cattle, and cowhorses, that helps you keep your feet on the ground, and your head on straight.

2012 has been a really good year for us. Yes there was drought, and yes we had plenty of days where we felt like we'd been "rode hard, and put up wet". But it was the people, the country, and the work, that made it so enjoyable, and made us thankful for the opportunities the year brought to us.

I've been pretty quiet. We're still in a bit of a limbo...waiting...but we expect another year of changes and challenges, and look forward to 2013. We just got home from the Montana Stock Grower's Convention & Tradeshow. It was a special year, because once again, we had the privilege of watching a new generation get connected.

Our son was in his first tradeshow with Farm & Ranch Personnel. His wife and little ones joined him, and we also had the pleasure of the company of our oldest daughter.

A grandfatherly friend of ours, with an ever-present twinkle in his eye, hooked up with our 4-yr old grandson, and taught him how to "work" a tradeshow. The kid returned to his dad with real money in the piggy bank he'd picked up earlier, and a bag stuffed with everything from roping gloves to calendars.

My favorite cowboy was awarded "Stockman of the Year" by cattlemen in this part of the country, and he was also re-elected to the board-of-directors for the state association. An honor he sincerely appreciates, and takes very seriously. I'm just tickled. I mean, there's a reason he's my favorite cowboy! Click here to see the press release.

I Skyped with our youngest daughter today--halfway around the world. It totally amazes me what God is doing with a simple country girl with a hardworking ranch background, a love for her Creator, and a heart for people. Nothing brings her more joy, than to bring joy to others. Not just at this time of year--it's her life. She helps us put things in perspective. Her sister, who had hoped to join her several months ago, is still here, waiting for her house to sell. She's also learning patience right along with us. Secretly I'm glad we have her for a few more special days. I think I'll even have her to help shoot a wedding next month. Yay!

As we reflect over the holidays, may we all remember the most precious Gift ever given:  "...but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord." RM 6:23
"For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God:" Eph 2:8

2013 could be a rough ride for agriculture, given the current social and political climate. But cattlemen are known for their "cowboy up" attitude, and I don't know of any that plan on selling their saddle. In fact, they're sucking up the cinch, putting their hats in "lock", and learning how to use...Facebook!

A Happy & Blessed 2013 to all.

Leanin' Trees

We've ridden with a lot of different hands this summer. But I swear. Some of the folks I rode with this week had to have been the models for some of those characters you see on Leanin' Tree cards. And I'm not talking about the Indian spirit ones, or "cutesy" ones. I'm talking about the cards that make you laugh, but you don't dare give  to anyone.

Salty old cowboys (and girls) with an even saltier sense of humor. The ones with a whiskey bottle in one hand, a boogery horse in the other, and a cowboy knack for...creative thinking. Stories for another day.

I thought I'd have this week off since Ray's gone with the horsetrailer. But these guys don't know I'm fairweather yet, and just came and picked me and Maresy up. I wore my big coat, my felt hat, and an extra pair of socks--but I still froze! Saturday was a long, hard day in tough country. It was 8 PM by the time I got my horse put up and got to the house. The good news was that it didn't snow or blow, so at least it was pretty decent during the day. Except it seemed like I spent most the day in deep canyons that felt like meat lockers.

Ray's up at cowcamp for the big fall gather and sort. Depending on the weather, there will likely be 30 or 40 people and their dogs in camp. Most of them bring campers, but Ray planned on sleeping in the nose of the trailer like he's been doing all along. Brrr. It's probably getting down pretty close to 0 degrees at night, and maybe in the 40's during the day. This time we bought him a couple of pillar candles for a makeshift heater. He cut out the front of a couple of coffee cans, and made deflectors on the top, and the plan was to let them burn all night...we'll see. There are a couple of nice little bunkhouses up there, so at least he's got back-up.

Later this week we're going to Jackson Hole for 3 days for a meeting--all expenses paid, plus a couple of perks. Not a bad way to wrap up the summer!

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Summer Wrap

It's been a great year for us. Riding this summer has been pure fun without the old hassle. We've got our home and property shaping up, have added a few necessary items like a wheel-line and a k-line irrigation systems, got a lawn, trees, and flowers started, and moved tons of rocks. In fact I used a lot of them to build a waterfall, little stream, and pond over the septic tank. The septic system in the front yard was just a big, ugly, black plastic covered square with 2 concrete lids in the middle, and a bunch of rocks to keep the plastic in place.

We have a 4-wheeler and a welder now. We had the 1st cutting of hay put up, but left the 2nd to let the horses graze this winter. We wanted to see what we actually had before putting anything into it. We had some roping steers, and a couple of weeks ago I actually won a team-roping heeling on Flash.

We said good-by to our "baby", and sent her half-way around the world to work with teenage orphan girls and some missionaries. Hopefully Kristy's house sells soon so she can join her. Not that I'm in a big hurry to lose both my girls, but I think Anna needs her. Clayton and Kristine and family just got moved so now they're a couple of hours away. We had a blast with the grandkids this summer, and already miss them. We've become big fans of Skype.

Just as we're getting settled into a semi-retirement, opportunities have started coming at us from several different directions. We've had our ears open, but really weren't looking very hard. We don't know yet what we'll be doing, but it's looking like all the years before were just preparation for something even bigger. We have an amazing God, and we've learned that if we just get out of the way and let Him work, we end up so much better off than what we could ever hope to accomplish on our own.

 Eph. 3:20-21 "Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us, Unto him be glory..."

DON'T Do It!!!

I knew he would. But I had to try.

I'm sitting here, reeking of skunk. My favorite cowboy shot him under the deck where I moved the cat feeder because some animal--a coon, I thought-- was eating all the food when it was in the barn.

The dogs let us know he was back, and my favorite cowboy grabbed my .22 and a little light. You could see his eyes shining back at us out of the farthest corner. Caught in the act. "I've only got one shell" said Ray. Can't we wait 'til he comes out"? I asked, already knowing the answer. We've been through this routine before. More than once. He fired. Click. I smiled. It was the empty shell we always leave in the chamber. He had to go get more shells, so I stood guard, just out of sight, hoping Mr. Skunk would exit. Tina, the cat ignored me, and went on in.

By the time I got her to come back out, Ray was back, and Mr. Skunk had disappeared into the middle of the heap I'd made yesterday, trying to secure the catfood. After kicking the heap a time or six, the skunk came out. He hadn't sprayed yet. Then, Ray shot him. He crawled back in the corner to have the last laugh--and died.

I traded Ray a shovel for the gun. I was downwind from him as he walked down the driveway, and caught the full effect. Gagging and eyes watering, I ran around to the other side of the house.

Summers in cowcamp were the worst for skunks. Ray tells about the first year he worked on the ranch, when cowcamp consisted of a ramshackle little homestead era cookshack where the cook slept, and sheepherder tents for the cowboys. One morning the cook woke up hearing scratching. As he laid there looking around to see where it was coming from, he saw a skunk right by the fridge. He grabbed his pistol, and nailed it, right there. The skunk crawled behind the refrigerator to die, and when the crew came in for breakfast, they had to haul that stinking carcass out first.

The steps. Kristy feeding our "lawnmowers". We had to
move the dogfood to the horsetrailer because her horse, Old Yeller
would scare us to death at night when he would come up the steps
to help himself to dogfood.

When he became cowboss, the first thing Ray did, was have a new bunkhouse/cookhouse built. Skunkproof. Next, he hauled up an old 3-bedroom trailer for our family to live in. We converted it to propane, so we had a propane fridge, stove, lights, water heater, and even heat. He even found enough old boards and tin around to make a tiny porch around the steps. I knew there were a couple of skunks under the trailer, but they hadn't made a stink--yet, so I didn't say anything. But one afternoon, as Ray sat on the step and bent over to lace up his boot, there was a little furry, black and white face peering back at him from under the steps.

He dashed in to get the gun. The little guy ran back under the trailer. "No! Don't you dare shoot him under there!" I argued a lot harder that first time. But he shot him anyway. Under the trailer. In the middle of a hot, stifling, summer. It was bad. I mean REALLY bad!

This cowcamp barn was a haven for skunks.

Mrs. Gilchrist, my teacher for 1st through 3rd grade, is probably laughing in her grave. My sister, oldest brother, and I, found a dead skunk along the highway while walking the mile and a half to school. We stopped and examined it, and kicked it around a bit, before proceeding on our way. We didn't really notice any smell, but as soon as we walked into the classroom, Mrs. Gilchrist marched us across the road to the little country store, where she bought some tomato juice and made us wash our shoes with it.

I admit. Skunks are pretty cute. And it's actually quite amazing to me how God equips the most helpless animals with such powerful self-protection. But I still hate skunks. I knew Walt Disney was fiction the first time I saw Bambi, and his cute little friend called "Flower".

Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honour and power: for thou hast created all things, and for thy pleasure they are and were created. Rev. 4:11

Tough Choices

When Lauren, over at Montana Stock Growers Association, announced "...a photo contest that would showcase the Montana ranching community...", I immediately fired off one of my most recent photos, that to me, is at the very heart of Montana's ranching heritage: a multi-generational ranching family working together. Isn't that where ranch communities start? Well, maybe. Maybe not. I'm glad she didn't put a limit on entries!


I've been mulling that question over. And really, that's a pretty narrow definition. Communities are based on shared interest, whether it's a particular locale, a particular industry, passion, or hobby; particular beliefs, or even race or species. It has a very loose, broad connotation where a large community, such as the "white community", can be broken down into many smaller "communities" within the larger one.

1986 Branding Crew

So, I guess within Montana's broad ranching community, we'd have everything from working ranches, both family and corporate, families, cowboys, buckaroos, farmers, animals-- both domestic and wild; land, suppliers, local businesses, 4-H and FFA, local associations, small towns, local schools and churches, county government, NRCS, the Fed, and even celebrities. The people would be involved in everything from day-to-day ranch work, farming, off-ranch jobs, public and government relations; and volunteering. For fun there would be county fairs, local history events, gymkahanas, ranch rodeos, team-roping, and rodeo--as well as the outdoor recreation Montana is so well-known for--provided in large part through Montana ranchers' stewardship of open space.

Lauren's got the right idea. By having a contest within the larger ranching community, a variety of perspectives will be showcased. The hard part is choosing photos. The most dramatic photos normally focus on a main subject. To incorporate a sense of community requires...well, people. And in the independent world of ranching, in this wide open state, most "community"  photos will either come from community events, or from annual ranch events such as branding or weaning. During crisis situations such as fire, chances are, people are too busy fighting fire to take pictures.

The day in, day out, working ranch community will seldom be found in groups aside from annual events that require a whole crew. They will be spread out over thousands of acres, yet working efficiently together to accomplish a common goal. Increasingly, they can also be found in meetings, working to find solutions to problems threatening their livelihood. Problems and issues their predecessors likely never even imagined were coming down the pike. Not exactly contest photo material.

My personal favorites go back to the family. Children learning from parents and grandparents. I also love the interactions between cattlemen and the horses and livestock under their stewardship. A husband and wife in their cowboy grubbies working as a team, and the dramatic vistas we, as native Montana ranchers often take for granted. I guess that's why the first photo that came to mind illustrating "Montana's ranching community", was the one of the grandmother with her 2-yr old grandson, talking over the fence to her 7-year old grandson who was preparing to ride out with his dad, mom, and grandpa, and the rest of the crew to finish a 2-day traildrive.

The difference is commitment. It's the families that have the commitment to the land and to the livestock. For many, (not all) cowboying is just a job. Yes, they probably love it, and can be very good at it. But when it's quitting time, or vacation, or the weekend, what happens on the ranch is not always a real concern. And, understandably so. There's no ownership.

The core foundation of a healthy ranch and ranch community, is a dedicated, committed family, with morals, values, character, and integrity. They know that the better job they do of taking care of the resources under their stewardship, the more successful the ranch will be.

In the end, when all the battles have been fought, and most of the hired help has come and gone, it will be a family that's trying to keep the ranch together.

It's pretty hard to have a ranch community without ranches.

Check out the MSGA Ranch Community photo contest, and be sure to "like" your favorites. New photos will be added until August 15.

 Montana Stockgrowers "Ranch Community Photo Contest"

"I am the door: by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out, and find pasture. The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly. I am the good shepherd: the good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep. But he that is an hireling, and not the shepherd, whose own the sheep are not, seeth the wolf coming, and leaveth the sheep, and fleeth: and the wolf catcheth them, and scattereth the sheep. The hireling fleeth, because he is an hireling, and careth not for the sheep." Jn 10:9-13

Cameras & Cowpoop

I have thoroughly enjoyed my new photographic freedom this past year. We've seen an amazing amount of Montana from the back of a horse that I never knew existed. And it's all been just as gorgeous as our old stomping grounds.

It's also been fun just being "help". It's a lot more relaxing when all you have to worry about is the job at hand.

We had the opportunity to do something we've never experienced before. We helped with an 1100-head traildrive for a grazing association. We've been thousands of miles with herds ranging from 200 to 1300 head. Most of those herds were cow/calf pairs with bulls on them. Many were yearlings, or bulls, or drys, but never all of the above mixed together. And those herd all wore one brand. This herd had four.

A grazing association is a group of ranchers that lease ground in the association's name and run their herds together during the summer months. It's a good way for smaller ranches to get the summer grazing they need. They hire a rider to tend the stock and fences on a day to day basis, but when it's time to move cattle, every ranch is represented, so they have an instant crew.

We left the barn at 4:30 a.m., and were the second trailer to arrive. As we bridled up and rode off, three more rigs showed up.

I was excited. 1100 cattle strung out as far as you can see, is an awesome sight. Especially when combined with Montana's scenery. It was still too dark to get good photos as we made our gather, but I took a few early shots anyway.

Ed gathering backend

As it warmed up, I saw a great set-up coming. It was a rocky outcrop with a creek and draw on the offside. The sun was just getting to that "first light" stage. Looking back, the riders in the dust on the drag were softly backlit. I knew I only had seconds. I bailed off maresy since I didn't want to risk movement. I had just pulled my camera out of it's pouch and still had the neckstrap in my hand. I was on the downhill side and caught my spur in some brush, so I ended up on my backside.

I didn't care about that. My camera had slipped from my hand--and planted itself face first in a fresh green cowpie! I gingerly fished it out. I already knew. No more photos. And I'd missed such a perfect one.
The front of my camera had a thick, oozing layer of...SH**!!!!!!! (Cut me some slack. It is what it is!)

Sagebrush helped to get the top layer off, then Ray dug a blue paper shop towel out of his jacket pocket. I had to restrain myself. Just get the worst off, put it in that leftover sandwich bag, and stick it back in the pouch with my water and granola bars to let it dry.

I bet Canon's never had that issue before. I put off trying to clean it not knowing quite how to go about it. But I went to work on it this morning. My best tool was a paper wire twist tie. I also used a vaccuum, a twist-out lens brush--not twisted out--to scrub after spraying a little LCD cleaner on, a lens cloth, and finally, canned air. At first the lens cover would only open part way unless I used my fingers. But a little more work, and one last little crumb of dried cowpoop popped out, and it now works as good as new.

Guess we'll just have to make the drive again. I missed some really great shots.

I'm just thankful I didn't have to get it professionally cleaned. I ruined the electronics on my first SLR taking the "Spring Blizzard" photo. I had it repaired, but it was never the same. The only good thing is, "Spring Blizzard" bought me a new camera!

Last photo I got before dropping camera - Ray & Chad

Thus saith the LORD, The heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool... 

IS 66:1

Scattered Thundershowers

I never carry a rain slicker. In this country, even the windshield wipers dry out and crack before they wear out. At 4 a.m. this morning when Ray and I were getting ready for the 2nd leg of a Sweetwater traildrive, I mentioned that the forecast had changed to be a little cooler with scattered thundershowers.

That was good news. We trailed 12 miles yesterday, several of which were right up the highway. By the time we stopped for the day, a lot of the calves were pretty tender-footed. Today we planned to go 15 miles, including a narrow canyon along a thickly brushed creek. If it was hot, it would be a bugger trying to keep the calves moving since they'd all be trying to get to the creek, and hide in the brush.

It turned out to be a perfect day to trail. It was cool and cloudy, then sure enough, we got our scattered shower. Ray had tied on a slicker, and being the fine gentleman cowboy that he is, he gave it to me. The shower spit on us for a few minutes, then the sun came out. When we stopped to let cows and calves mother-up before entering the canyon, it was starting to heat up, so I left our coats and slicker in a truck that was following us to drive us home.

The last 2 or 3 miles of the trail we headed through open sage country. The sky was pretty dramatic and the pairs were moving along nicely, so I got my camera out. I take most of my working photos horseback, and Flash (Maresy) usually cooperates really well. But not today. Maresy would not stand still. She was nervous and a little high strung--kind of like our border collie, Hap, when he senses a thunderstorm coming. That thought did cross my mind, but since I was engrossed in the changing sky, I didn't pay much attention to what those changes meant--or to my mare.

We needed to pick up the pace because we were about to get caught. I put my camera away, and went back to work. We were only about 3/4 of a mile from the gate, and the lead was about 1/2 mile. Ray headed up a big hill to turn back a cow that was headed off in the wrong direction. Several more cows appeared, so I followed Ray to help. Topping out on the hill, we saw the whole tail-end making the wrong turn, and they weren't wasting any time.

The rain hit with gusto. Maresy only wanted to go the same direction as the cows--with the storm at our backs. I managed to get her mind back to her work--at least until the hail hit. Ray rode up when he saw I was having trouble. He told me I better be ready to ride, because she was freaking out. She reared up, and as I fumbled with my reins to get a tighter hold, I dropped my right rein. By then Ray was hollering that I just needed to get off. I tended to agree. I pulled her head around to the left and as I swung my leg over, she jumped out from under me, pulled the rein out of my hand, and headed out, with Ray in hot pursuit.

The two guys behind us had their hands full just trying to keep the herd together. Forget turning them--just hope to get them bent before they hit the fence. The rain was pouring, it was thundering, lightning, and hailing. Tell stopped to make sure I was OK, and to hand me his oilskin parka. The lead had now become the tail-end, so we also had those 2 riders for help. Fortunately the hail quit, because it wasn't looking like the fence was going to stop anything, including Flash. She just ran through Ray and his horse like she was some kind of rodeo bronc. He finally got her stopped at the fence.

Things quieted down. Everyone was totally drenched, but it was only about a 15 minute trail down the fence to the gate. Ray gave me a bit of rope that would work for the rein she'd lost. I didn't have to think about it too long. I was probably packing about 20 pounds extra since my chinks, boots, and everything else were soaked, plus I had that huge, heavy parka. I could just picture me wallowing my way up into that wet saddle on that buzzed-up mare, and decided I liked the ground better. Just as well. We got another wave of storm, and even though I was still walking forward leading her, Flash had turned tail to the storm, and was marching up the hill backwards, deftly working her way around sage brush and holes. She is quite amazing!

Well, at least now I know about that little quirk, and will be a little better prepared for future "scattered thundershowers". She's a lot like Hap I guess. If he's out when it thunders in the distance, he's gone. He used to run 10 miles to hide in the shop at headquarters. Now that we've moved, he runs past several neighbors to go to the Vet Hospital about 5 miles away. Why he chose that particular refuge is beyond me, unless it has something to do with the amount of concrete.

When the storm hit us, Ray said "Sure! You put my coat and slicker in the truck". When it was over I said, "Aren't you glad you have a dry jacket in the truck?"

And I didn't get any pictures of the storm. Number one, I didn't want to wreck my camera; but mostly because it was tied on to my saddle, so Flash took it with her.

This was the view directly behind us, and the
photo of the black cloud--taken a few seconds apart.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the dark of the midnight have I oft hid my face,
While the storm howls above me, and there's no hiding place.
'Mid the crash of the thunder, Precious Lord, hear my cry,
Keep me safe till the storm passes by. 
Chorus:
Till the storm passes over, till the thunder sounds no more,
Till the clouds roll forever from the sky;
Hold me fast, let me stand in the hollow of Thy hand,
Keep me safe till the storm passes by.


Mark 4:39


"And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea,
Peace be still.  And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm." 

Renegade Beef

McCartney Mountain trail. A beautiful day, a great crew, good horses, gorgeous country, everything you'll ever see in a brochure. But there's some things you won't see in a brochure, like, sometimes things can get a little more western than the original plan. But really, that's part of the fun of ranching isn't it? "The Challenge".

The trail (traildrive in a brochure) is roughly 10 miles. Ten miles is generally a pretty good day's trail when there's calves and bulls on the cows. Ten miles as the crow flies, that is. By the time you gather the cattle and get them out the gate, and ride back and forth all day long, you've actually put more like 30 miles on your saddle. And that's if everything goes right. The top photo was near the end of the trail, which was supposed to be about 10 miles. But...a couple calves ran back...

Usually, about the only thing that will stop a calf who's made the break, is a rope. Trying to turn them horseback is usually a futile exercise that burns up the energy your horse is going to need. After a couple valiant tries, we decided we'd better give it up and get back to the main herd who were in the toughest part of the trail, a narrow rocky section with a fairly steep sidehill and a few trees. Jim, the boss, had ridden ahead with the lead, and Rooster was just out of sight turning the herd up the draw. Bill was riding the side, and Ray, I and Luke were in the drag.

Unfortunately there were also a couple of hard-headed, disrespectful younger cows who had been looking for a break the whole way. When cowboys on the back end disappeared due to pursuing escaped calves, they saw their chance and took it.

Things got a little western then, since they'd opened the door for every other mis-mothered animal on the tail-end of the herd. It's important to get those kind turned back, and quick, since it's like taking your finger out of the dike. Ray and Luke were riding hard, but there was no quick turning. They just ran right through a horse.

That left me alone on the back-end, and there was no possible way to be everywhere I needed to be. My little mare was bound and determined to win, and since I only had one hand available, she was running right through her hackamore. She'd hook on to one and turn back hard on those rocky sidehills. Before I could get back in the middle, she'd be blowing out hard, then turning back just as hard the other way. I knew what was coming, and all I could do was suck it up and hang on for dear life.

I finally just had to get ahold with both hands and bump her hard to get her pulled up. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Bill coming up behind me on Jimmy's "heading-horse-of-the-year". He thundered on down the road so he could make some headway versus the cows who were crashing across the hillsides and brush. The thought crossed my mind that he should have been in some of those good old westerns. Too bad I didn't have time to get some pictures... Luke and Ray were somewhere ahead still trying to stem the flood.

I had figured I was pretty much along for the ride, so I'd brought my big camera. I have a hunter's front pouch that straps on like a harness, that keeps my camera handy yet out of the way. Fortunately I'd taken the precaution of hanging the camera strap around my neck, because somewhere along the way, I noticed my camera was flying out to the side, and had to grip it to me with my right hand. After I gave up and headed back to see what the plan was, I started seeing things on the ground...that used to be in my pouch. The only thing I never found was my new spare battery. (I did find a nice cantle bag that Hank lost near the same place a week ago. It still had lunch and little candy bars. Hmmm. Wonder how he lost that?)

Bill had pulled up, and was walking down the road with cows that trotted on by. We were already halfway back to the beginning. About the only thing we could do was go back and start over. Rooster could see the wreck, and was torn about where he needed to be. He followed his pairs on up where Jimmy was at the springs, and reported what he'd seen. They decided to just wait with the main herd, since having them mothered up and on water would keep them content and settled.

Back at the gate, we simply sat still, had some lunch, let the calves mother-up, and discussed our options. Thirty-one cows, probably the same amount of calves, and even two bulls had drifted back. We weren't sure we had enough horse power left to get them through that tough section. But, pretty quick Rooster and Jimmy showed up. We had enough now to at least get them to the drift fence and water about half-way. Beyond that totally depended on if the cattle gave out.

We got 'em. In fact, once we gave them a water break, and a chance to re-mother, we hit the trail again figuring to go as far as we could, which ended up being all the way. It was pretty late, and every animal, and every cowboy, and that poor cow dog, was tired. Dog tired. A condition that cowboys seem to thrive on.

Or maybe it was just us older folks. The die-hard team ropers were already talking about golfing and roping. I was thinking more along the lines of a whirlpool. But the breaker was blown, so I just sat there until the water got cold. Then Ray turned on the breaker, as the water gurgled down the drain.

That's OK. At least we have hot running water. I really don't know how the early drovers did it without modern conveniences such as water tanks and occasional fences; a hot whirlpool, and a soft bed.

Maybe they just ate the renegade beef. Or gave it to the Indians.

"In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return." Ge 3:19

Several photos are posted on their own page. (Top right link: McCartney Mountain) If you click on one to enlarge it, it will let you view them all as a kind of slide show.

Silly Girls

I always try to make sure there's no teen-age girls around when I say this, but yearling heifers have always reminded me of teen-age girls. Bouncy, curious, silly-- and sometimes, just plain...air-headed. When one does something, they all want to do it. Like for instance, nose piercing. If there's a porcupine in the pasture of heifers, chances are, you won't be pulling quills out of just one nose.



We've been heat detecting and A-Iing this week. You spend a lot of time observing. It's good for maresy to have to sit still. She doesn't have a lot of patience. I have to give her credit though, I know she gets thoroughly annoyed when the heifers surround her and stick their noses right in her face. Ray's horse will snap at them, but she just jerks her head away. But even I won't tolerate them when they start chewing on her tail. I've seen those chewed off appaloosa-looking tails of horses that have been penned with other tail-eating animals. It's pretty sad.

When the kids were little, I took them with me in the truck to heat detect a bunch of heifers down at the end of a big pasture. It didn't take long, and they were bored and whining. The girls, who were 3 and 4, wanted to get out and pick some flowers. The heifers had moved off over a little rise, so I let the girls get out in a little sage brush hollow that had a good patch of wild iris.

“OK girls, if I let you get out, you have to promise me that you'll stay right here. We'll be back to check on you in a few minutes.” They gave me their solemn promise. Clayton and I drove over the rise to watch the heifers. It wasn't 5 minutes, and the heifer's heads starting coming up and staring intently at something behind us. Pretty quick a few of them started wandering over in the direction where I'd left the girls who had gotten worried, and were making their way back towards the truck. Afraid that they were missing out on something, the rest of the heifers took off bucking and kicking to catch up to their sisters.

It was mean of me I know, but I decided this was a good time to teach all 3 kids, that when I told them something, there was a good reason they'd better mind me. Clayton and I sat there for a minute, and by that time we could hear the girls squalling. Even Clayon started crying. The louder they squalled, the more curious the heifers got. By the time we came to their rescue, the girls were totally surrounded by a huge circle of black hides breathing that nasty cow breath about 10 feet away from them. Those poor little girls were scared silly, and oh so thankful to see Mom come walking through the herd. They were totally content to sit quietly in the truck after that.

Somehow those silly, sweet, little girls survived and grew up to be gracious, sweet, lovely young ladies. It's going to be another big year of life changes, since they are moving half way across the world to work with missionaries who work with the people and orphans of Moldova. They will be working mostly with teen-age girls who are required to leave the orphanage at 16, but aren't allowed to get a job until they are 18. They're not problem kids, they're kids with problems. Heart-breaking problems.

In my own selfish way, I hate to see them go. But for their sakes, and for the sake of those young people, I rejoice that God has chosen them to be a blessing to someone who so desperately needs it. We're not losing our daughters, we're gaining a whole new passle of them. That is exciting!

And how we got from heifers to missionaries is a mystery to me...

"...Feed my lambs." John 21:15

Kristy and Anna feeding bum (orphan) lambs.

Spring in the Step

Ah! Starting to look like spring! Clayton & crew at an early branding.

This is one of my favorite days of the year. I finally got tax stuff done! Every year I intend to keep files up to date, and every year I end up entering everything in March of the following year. Time to get out and enjoy some early spring sunshine. And wind.

I'm not complaining. It's really not too bad here. At least in the house. In the last house my office was in the loft, and the whole house would shake. It was a constant roar that always made me think it was no wonder some pioneer women on the prairie went crazy with nothing but a constant roar of wind to listen to. Sometimes I would go down to the basement just to get away from it.

The baby calves and horses love it though. It's amazing how a spring wind stirs up the life in them. They run around bucking and jumping with their heads and tails up in the air, and bounding about a foot off the ground with each step. I've had 2 horses in the past that tended to bounce a little more than I was comfortable with, and really made me suck it up in the spring.



Kristy and Koko. High School rodeo.

Koko, who was a powerful, athletic, cowhorse; and Drifter, who we sold this summer. I was never good at getting a horse to give his nose anyway, and it wasn't too hard for them to take it completely away from me if they really had a mind to. Especially Koko. He was the first horse I actually broke. He was a lot more horse than I probably should have been messing with, but I was too naive to know it. Kind of like having babies. I always said if I was going to have twins, I'd want to have them first since I'd think that was normal.

I preferred to ride alone the first few times, since I didn't like them worrying about other horses. And I didn't want any witnesses. I had to go through a pasture one spring where there were some loose horses who had a bad case of spring fever. Koko's head went straight up in the hair, and his tail was raised in a big old plume I could see out of the corner of my eye. His back was dished like a moon sliver, and I could feel the power as he started prancing around like he was going to join them. It was like floating on top of a coiled spring, and he didn't even know I was there. I didn't waste any time getting off to open the gate. Even though we weren't to it yet.

Drifter was always like riding a pogo stick. On good days. In the spring he was like Tigger the tiger. Only he snorted. At everything. Big wide eyes, and even wider nostrils. You always had to be riding because he'd jump out from under you in a heartbeat if you weren't paying attention. He didn't miss a thing. He was never broncy though. In later years I'd get Clayton or Ray to take the edge off.

Maresy's a peach. She's ready to go. Ray's got the arena done and sand hauled in. In a couple of weeks we'll have some roping cattle. Ray made a roping dummy that can be pulled around the arena so we can get Flash (and me) trained for heeling. I roped a few times on her last summer, but she's a cutting horse and really wanted to run to the head. She's also very responsive to leg pressure, and just about the time I'd be getting ready to throw my rope, she'd make a big sashay to the left. I think that means I need to pay attention to what I'm doing, since she's probably doing exactly what my leg says.

And Ray? Well he's been roping at Rooster & Benny Reynolds all winter, and just won the 10-header grand finale Sunday afternoon.

That'll put a little spring in your step too!

Clayton & Peter Paint wrangling at cowcamp. Koko as a 3 yr old with his
typical headset.

Hast thou given the horse strength? hast thou clothed his neck with thunder? Canst thou make him afraid as a grasshopper? the glory of his nostrils is terrible. He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength: Job 39:19-21

 

A Lot 'a Bull



Ray working angus bulls at Friday's
 Leadore Angus Ranch bull sale.



There's been a lot of bulls pass through the sale ring already this spring. Payweight. Right Time. Retail Value... It's been fun to watch the trends over the years. These names are just a few lines that come to mind-- Black Angus registered lines that have lived up to their names helping ranchers produce the kind of calves that keep the ranch in business, and satisfy the end consumers at the same time.

Bulls really have the life O'reilly. They only have to work about 2 months a year, and that work involves a harem of about 25 cows. Their sole responsibility on the ranch is to make sure those cows produce a calf. Then they get turned out to pasture for a few months before they get brought in where they can be fed hay, so they can be in good condition to start the process all over again come late spring.

You'd think that would make them happy. But “Happy” isn't usually the word that comes to mind. “Ornery” would be more like it. Bad, Bull-headed, or just plain Mean are a few others. Fortunately, that reputation is not really accurate for the majority. Most bulls just go quietly about their business, and don't raise much ruckus. It's the few bad apples that make the reputation.

And, they also serve as a good reminder that bulls are not pets no matter how slow and docile they may appear. Ray's had a run-in or two over the years, and since we used to run straight Herefords, those run-ins usually involved horns. BIG horns.

Today we got one of those wet spring snowstorms that I mentioned
in my last blog.  (And Ray won another roping!)

The first year we were married and living at Sage Creek I went to help him retrieve a bull we had let drop back because...well I guess because he'd decided he'd gone far enough and would charge anybody that came within 20 feet of him. Ray figured if we let him alone until evening or the next morning, he'd be cooled down, and still be within a mile of the weaning pens where he could simply be loaded instead of trailed.

He was right. The next morning Mr. Bull was still where we dropped him. But his mood hadn't improved. In fact I think he'd had time to think about it and had gotten even more bull-headed.

Ray was riding his own rope-horse that he used for pro-rodeo. Shadow was a great horse and a super athlete, but he didn't like working out in the brush, and having to deal with a mad 2,000 pound bull was not exactly his forte. I was riding Luke, a line-back dun that was one of the best, most solid ranch horses any cowboy could ever dream of. The kind you wished would live forever.

Mr. Bull had no intention of going to the pens, or anywhere else for that matter. So, figuring he needed a bit of an attitude adjustment, Ray roped him. Around the neck. Before I could move in for heels, Mr. Bull charged Ray and Shadow. Shadow froze. Mr. Bull rammed his horns under Shadow's belly lifting him and Ray off the ground. Before they could recover from the shock, Mr. Bull charged again, and freight-trained them again.

This time Ray turned his rope loose, and kicked some life into Shadow who had managed to keep his feet. But now we had a bull, roped around the neck, running loose in rough sage country. Ray decided if we could just get that rope off, we'd be doing good. I still had my rope, and a horse that could handle the situation, so we traded horses. Ray used my rope to catch both heels on Mr. Bull, and get him tripped and down.

Once he had convinced Mr. Bull that he might as well lay still, he got off Luke, and I got on, to make sure Mr. Bull stayed down while Ray sneaked up and retrieved his rope. By then Mr. Bull was a little more agreeable, and we managed to ease him to the corrals.

He was lucky. We've gotten smarter over the years, and figured out the real cost of taking that kind of risk. I know of at least one bull in recent years that never even made it to town. He got shot on the spot. No sense getting someone at the livestock auction killed.

Clayton and Braxton helping get sale bulls ready to pen.

Once we started cross-breeding with Angus, and had good background records, it was a little easier to know something about temperament. Ray always tried to avoid genetics that were known to be “hot”. Or if a bull would spring into the ring blowing snot and kicking sawdust halfway up the stands, he pretty much assumed that was not something we wanted to be breeding cows to no matter how good his EPD records were, or how good he looked.

Safety-ing-up was a huge transition for a crew of typical cowboys who have an in-grained tradition of getting things done regardless of what it takes. It took a few years for everyone to make the mental transition from “accidents will happen”, to, we need to work smarter because “most accidents are avoidable”. (Well, actually they say ALL accidents are avoidable, but even I can't get my head around that one.)

It's paid off handsomely. Going from an average of 12 recordable accidents per year, to zero to 2 per year is a huge savings of time and money, not to mention the human and family aspect. You can't put a price on that.

Not even a $5,000 bull.

“I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, LORD, only makest me dwell in safety.” Ps 4:8



Dad! Look Out!

I guess it's probably not very nice of me, but I've always gotten a charge out of "surprising" Ray. Like for instance, when he is so kind as to get out and open a gate that he knows would be a struggle for me. I will watch him, and just at that perfect moment, usually as he's walking past the front of the truck, with his mind on what he's headed out to do, I'll reach over, and honk the horn. He always jumps. And I always crack up.

Yesterday was our anniversary. 31 years! I still marvel at the fact that he even married me in the first place. I always tell him the reason I said "yes" so fast, was because I didn't want to give him the chance to figure out what he was gettng himself into. But seriously, I knew I'd found a good man. I'd been looking for 5 years, so the fact that I'd only known him 2 weeks was simply testament to the fact that I'd found what I was looking for. Or rather, God just timed everything perfectly, and put me in the right place at the right time. "Delight thyself also in the LORD; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart." Psalm 37:4                

It's been good. It really doesn't seem like it's been that long, but looking back, we've done a lot of living. An amazing amount of living. And whether things were tough, or whether we were on a roll, we just took it all in stride, by the grace of God. You'd think after 30 years you'd have the trail pretty well worn--except you don't really ever go down the same trail. Not if you're moving forward. And it's sure nice to have a partner who never even considers going backwards. You just keep on keeping on. "And the rain descended , and the floods came , and the winds blew , and beat upon that house; and it fell not: for it was founded upon a rock." Matthew 7:25

 I suppose that's why I can have such fun pushing his buttons, and he never wrings my neck. Although I do have to tell him to "lighten up" once in awhile when he doesn't quite share my sense of humor. Like the time I painted his toenails while he was soundly sleeping.

Somehow, and I'll say it again because it's true-- "by the grace of God"-- our children turned out to be better kids than any parent could ever wish for. Fortunately, they mostly took after their dad. Clayton still gives me "that look" if I start teaching my grandson how to push buttons. He really doesn't need any help. He's a normal 3-yr old with an imagination like Auntie Anna's.

The kids did pick up on one or two things though. I used to say, "Watch this, kids," just before I tooted the horn. Invariably at least one would try to warn him, another would sigh, "Mo-om", and another would watch in anticipation. It wasn't until the 2 oldest were in college that the lessons came to full fruition.

They were driving out through the hills with their dad and Chubby the cowdog, when Ray spotted a moose down by the creek. Since he just happened to have a camera with him, he decided to stop and get a picture. And since he actually listened to me that he needed to get closer to his subjects with his camera, he crept down through the bog to get a closer shot. Chubby was what you might call a little hyper, and he hopped out of the back and trotted down to join Ray who wasn't exactly happy for the extra "bait" and told Chubby to "stay behind".

Even though I wasn't there, my children performed flawlessly:

Happy with his photos, Ray and Chubby started back through the swamp towards the truck. All of a sudden the truck door flew open and Clayton jumped out and yelled, "Watch out Dad! The moose!"

Ray never even looked behind him, and he covered those swamp bumps in record time.

We all still crack up when that old scene is brought up. I'm so glad Ray is slow to anger, and can laugh at himself. I'm afraid I don't react quite as patiently as him.

It's more fun to be the instigator. He reads me like a book though, and he already knows that if we live another 30 years, my wheels will still be turning.

I love you Dear, and thank you! thank you! thank you! for putting up with me all these years!

Telegraph...Tell a Woman



Wolf bite marks. This calf was lucky. His mama must've been HOT!



Remember that game we used to play when we were kids. You'd start out in a circle. The person chosen to be first would whisper something in the next kid's ear. That kid would whisper to the next, and so on around the circle. It was always fun to see how the story ended up once it had come full circle.

That was just a game. But oh so true.

Yesterday Ray got a photo, a genuine photo, from a neighbor. It's a shocking photo of a big wolf boldly trotting down the railroad tracks next to the main highway about 3 miles out of our local burg. And he's packing another animal in his mouth. It's upside down, and you can vaguely make out the head and front legs flopping on the camera side. There is a herd of cows in the background. It's an honest, unvarnished photo from a local lady's phone.

The word we got, and accepted without hesitation, was that it was a baby calf. A very plausible conclusion seeing as how there's a whole herd of cows watching him from the background, and given the fact that this area is very well documented for wolf kills. We personally witnessed the results of wolf depredation among calving cows, and I even posted some of those photos on this blog last spring.

In righteous indignation toward those who would burden hard-working ranchers with this onerous predator, I wasted no time in posting that photo on Facebook, along with the caption stating it was a calf. That photo was quickly picked up, and has spread like wildfire.

In the meantime, when Ray went to our little burg this morning, I asked him to see if he could find out more about the photo. And he found out just enough to make me wish I'd posted the photo without a caption.

1. The photo is genuine. It was taken by a local lady with her phone when she spotted the scene from the highway, right near the dump road. 2. It was taken last week. 3. Ray and crew saw the animal damage control flying the next day...we ASSUME it was in connection with this big boy being way too close and comfortable with civilization. However, we don't know that.

Oh! And there's one more thing... it might be a deer.

By the time we got that bit of information, my earlier post had spread like wildfire, and I am embarrassed. I hate it when people do that-- use photos to twist the truth, or make something up. The liberals and animal rights crowd have perfected that technique, and I despise it. We used to come up against that all the time when we were fighting grazing battles.

I am a die-hard “truth in photography” fanatic. It is what it is. Just make sure you get the whole picture, and not just focus in on a little detail that you can tweak the info to prove your point.

Anyway, I apologize to anyone who might have got caught up in the blaze. If it's any consolation, the photo is genuine. Regardless of what the wolf is packing, he's still way too close and comfortable. There are cow herds all over the floor of this valley just getting in to their calving season. There will be calves lost to wolves this season. But chances of catching them with a camera are pretty slim.

The photo blazing it's way across the country. Wolf carrying its dinner.
About 3 miles out of Sheridan, MT, right off the highway.

Even so the tongue is a little member, and boasteth great things.

Behold, how great a matter a little fire kindleth! James 3:5