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.