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

Get Back On

Her name was Janie. She had thick red hair, a lot of patience, and a lot of lessons to teach a passel of little dairy farm kids who were thrilled to death to finally have a pony of their own.

Not too big, not too little. Important factors since, once Dad taught us how to catch, bridle, and climb on her bareback, we were on our own. Mom was a city girl with crippled feet, and a bunch of little ones to take care of, and Dad had his hands full with the cows and farm.

I was in 2^nd grade the evening we brought Janie home. As soon as she was unloaded, Dad began his riding lessons. Beginning with the oldest, and then me as 2^nd in line. Our driveway was lined with old silver willows with big heavy branches hanging about 4 feet off the ground. My sister's first trip ended quickly in disaster. As big sister, who was 8, headed Janie for the gravel road that ran in front of our house, Janie took a route that conveniently went under a tree branch, and wiped big sister right off her back.

Lesson #1. Get back on, and make the horse go where YOU want it to go. OK, Susie's turn.

My turn lasted only a wee bit longer than big sister's. I got Janie headed up the road. Things were looking good. Until Janie figured she'd gone far enough, and abruptly reversed course. I simply fell off. We tried again. She did the same thing--and so did I. At that particular juncture, Dad did one of the wisest things a father can do. He taught me...

Lesson #2. Whining never helps. He whacked me on the bottom, set me back up on Janie, and said, “Now RIDE her!” That was all it took. I sucked it up, made a quick mental adjustment, ratcheted up my determination a notch, and rode her. That was the beginning of new discoveries about persistence, over-coming challenges, situation analysis, and problem solving.

Big sister on Dad's horse, Blaze; me on Janie; and oldest little brother. 1963

Earlier this week I was searching for quotes to use on the Farm & Ranch Personnel site I'm building for Clayton, and came across the transcript of a commencement speech given by Steve Jobs at Stanford in 2005. Until now, my biggest interest had been in his company (Apple) since one of the best investment decisions I ever made was to pick up stock before Ipod hit the shelves. What I never realized, was that there was a period of time Steve Jobs was NOT Apple, and he was the reason the stock was now worth investing in. Here's an excerpt of that speech:

“...I found what I loved to do early in life...[we] started Apple in my parents' garage when I was 20. We worked hard and in 10 years, Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2 billion company with 4,000 employees. We'd just released our finest creation, the Macintosh, a year earlier, and I'd just turned thirty, and then I got fired.

“How can you get fired from a company you started? Well, as Apple grew, we hired someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with me, and for the first year or so, things went well. But then our visions of the future began to diverge, and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our board of directors sided with him, and so at thirty, I was out, and very publicly out. What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating. I really didn't know what to do for a few months...I was a very public failure and I even thought about running away from the Valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me. I still loved what I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I'd been rejected but I was still in love. And so I decided to start over...”

He goes on to talk about his new endeavors, and how Apple ended up buying a new company he'd started. A company that “...is at the heart of Apple's current renaissance...”

His summary: “I'm pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn't been fired from Apple. It was awful-tasting medicine but I guess the patient needed it. Sometimes life's going to hit you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith...Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work, and the only way to do great work is to love what you do...”

I only wish Steve Jobs could have lived a few more months to watch his company blow all estimates out of the water this week, and overnight, become the most valuable publically-traded company in the world!

I love these true stories of America's entrepreneurs. Even the founder of the company we spent 37 years at, failed 2 or 3 times before he got it right with the help of having the right people in the right place at the right time. These guys refused to become victims.

It's “Cowboy Character” at its finest.

“For a just man falleth seven times, and riseth up again: but the wicked shall fall into mischief.”

Pr 24:16

Lost Pillars

Roy was our fencer. He'd worked for a neighbor herding sheep for 28 years, then decided he couldn't get along with him anymore, and came to work for the ranch. He was 72 years old, and spent the next 18 years repairing, maintaining, and building, on the ranch's 2,000+ miles of fenceline, and countless wire gates.

He refused to use a 4-wheeler, and walked every mile of fenceline, and shook every post. Even on the “Forest” where the government forbade driving, Roy would walk 10 miles to the end of the allotment dragging posts and tools with him.

His tools were as simple as his lifestyle. A hand-style post-hole digger, a shovel-- which he only trusted Ray to sharpen for him, a heavy tamping bar, a big old iron post driving mallet, fencing pliers, and a bucket of staples. His quarters consisted of the only modern things he ever used: a little camp trailer pulled behind his pickup.

Beginning in March, or as soon as the ground thawed enough, Roy would begin his rounds of the lower pastures in preparation for calving and branding season, then work his way up country ahead of scheduled cattle movements. He'd spend the summer in remote summer country, then work his way back down ahead of the cows.

In the earlier years, he often spent winter at headquarters. He'd surround his little camper with straw-bales for insulation. His laundry room was the fire-pit out front where he'd boil water in a big tin tub. A lot of the time he'd just buy a stack of blue jeans, then just wear the same pair every day until they wore out. In later years, he'd rent a motel room for the winter. The ladies at his favorite restaurant always looked out for him and would get worried if he didn't show up on schedule.

One year we got a severe blast of winter in October which drove the temperature down below -30 F. Ray was out-of-state at a meeting, and everybody else was so busy un-thawing their own vehicles and water sources that nobody gave old Roy, who was still 10 miles up-country, a thought.

Roy was resourceful though. He had to be. You don't survive by yourself out in the middle of nowhere if you don't have some common sense and self-motivation. He moved out of his camper into an old cow-camp cook-shack which had a barrel stove. He'd already parked his truck in the big storage quonset “just in case”. He didn't want to be afoot, and had learned alternative methods to start his truck when he got in a bind. I don't know as I'd recommend Roy's, but it worked for him. He would build a fire under his truck, then prop that trusty old tin tub over the fire.

Ray and Kristy checking on Roy in summer country.

When most people would have turned in their shovels for an easy chair, Roy was busy building what is probably one of the longest lasting legacies on that ranch. Good fences. Miles of them. Roy's arthritis finally got to bothering him too much, so at the age of 90 he officially retired and moved to town. He died a few years ago at age 100, and the friend who was looking out for him made sure he was buried in one of the most gorgeous wood caskets he could find. It would probably be the only piece of furniture Roy ever owned.

It was sad to lose him. He was an American icon out of a silently lost generation-- the generation that came through the Great Depression, fought in WWII, and stood strong for character, work ethic, morals, principles, responsibility, and accountability. Pillars of a successful society. We've lost more than we know.

"Behold, this was the iniquity of thy sister Sodom, pride, fulness of bread,

and abundance of idleness..."  Ezek. 16:49 

Kinder, Gentler Winter

2011 had some pretty drastic changes for us, and I'm not really too sorry to put it behind us and get on with 2012. Already it's been a kinder, gentler winter.

It's not necessarily that they weren't good changes-- just drastic. (It's kind of like getting a divorce. You don't really consider that to be a wonderful event until you've moved on to a happy marriage!) If you've been following my blog you already know that, for the first time in our married lives, we are actual home owners. Even more exciting, we were able to pick up another 15 acre piece bordering us last week. With that addition, we can run a few cows if we want, or more likely, given the cow market at the moment, roping steers. It's irrigated, so for sure we'll raise hay on it.

Going from 320,000 acres, to 31 is a pretty drastic change. BUT it's ours, and I thank God for it. It's pretty amazing how everything fell into place and how our Heavenly Father was working out the details long before we had a clue this was it. It's the perfect home base and we love it.

I haven't been horseback for a few months now. But that's pretty typical of the last 10 years or so. I've learned that sometimes it's nice not to have to work if it's nasty out. I just leave maresy barefoot during the winter so I have a good excuse.

Yep. A fair-weather cowgirl. But I figure I've sacrificed plenty of flesh, and there's no sense aggravating my creaking knees, my bony fingers, and my twinkly toes by exposing them to more cold than they are comfortable with. I usually made it a point to get out on the worst days though, since that was always a good opportunity to find “cowboy suffering” photos.

I haven't decided for sure how to continue my blog. We're looking at a whole different scene than we were last February when I started this, so my current material is on a different tangent. On the other hand, we had such a unique life for the past 37 years, I feel like I need to work on writing things down before I forget. And I absolutely have to get my photo site re-done.

Since I've never been a journal-er, this blog has been a good exercise for me. We had the best years of our life, raising our kids, on that ranch, and, I suspect they may even have been the golden years of the ranch. We were able to do things that will never be able to be done again given the current trend of government, social, and corporate affairs. And we were able to leave with it being in the best, most profitable state it's ever been in. Really, the best way to retire from anything.

I've taken on another project, and just like a year ago, I'm glued to my computer. I put up an intro site for Clayton's new business, “Farm and Ranch Personnel”. I've got to finish the on-line forms I'm trying to build, and get the finished site up. I'm excited for him, because there is a real need for a good ranch job matching site for the intermountain west. Roger Koopman started that business in the early 80's, so he's got a pretty good base to build on, and Clayton has about as good a set of connections as anybody in the industry, coupled with broad, in-depth experience, and, he enjoys helping people. ("Like" FRP on Facebook)

2012 is off and running. It is bound to be interesting seeing as how it's an election year here in the States, but I hope and pray it is a prosperous and peaceful year as well.

“These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.” John 16:33 (Thanks Stan, I grabbed this reference off yours.)