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.)

 

Tis the Season...

For conventions! At least for cattlemen. It doesn't seem to matter which part of the country they're from, now through the end of January, or February is the slowest time of year on a ranch. Montana's cattlemen's convention often conflicted with other ranch priorities, so we've missed several over the years. We have the freedom to pick our own priorities now-- so we're going! Early-- since besides being on the Board of Directors, Ray is also on the Executive Board now.

A lot of important work gets done at convention that affects the livelihoods of a lot of working landowners. Not only is Montana vastly overwhelmed by non-ag interests in Washington DC, non-ag interests carry a lot more clout right here at home too, than they ever have in the past. We've been fortunate to have a good ranch lobby in both places that helps to stave off ever-increasing pressures; most of which come via federal lands issues, endangered-species issues, and a social attitude that animals and recreation are more important uses of land, than renewable natural resource harvest and production. Most never stop and think-- or even care-- that the only NEW money entering an economy comes from the harvest of natural resources. Other “income” is simply recycled $$$.

There's fun stuff too. After spending hours in meetings and trying to come up with solutions and a united voice on difficult issues, there's the Trade Show. A lot of important stuff actually gets done there as well. Regardless of what industry you're in, there is nothing to replace face-to-face social networking, and just plain neighborly visiting to spark new ideas, and shore-up the aging, sagging fabric that is at the very foundation of a prosperous nation: family farms and ranches in a free-market economy.

Not even Facebook.

That's the way the Creator intended it to be. The very idea of private property and the best way to manage that property-- such as“rest-rotation” (EX 23:11) comes right out the Bible, from books such as Exodus, Deuteronomy, Ezekiel, and Job —which was actually the earliest book in the Bible.

In fact, one way God punishes a nation is to fill it up with “beasts of the field” (EZ 32:4) You don't need to worry about “endangered” species. The “creatures”, including the earth, belong to the “Creator”, and He is quite capable of managing them any way He sees fit. What you DO need to worry about is making God angry enough that He uses His beasts against you.

Anyway, farming and ranching are one of the first institutions of civilization. During speaking engagements for environmental stewardship, when promoting the idea of managing for profitability and sustainability by using cattle as tools, we've always used the verse in PS 104:14:

“He causeth the grass to grow for the cattle, and herb for the service of man: that he may bring forth food out of the earth.”

That pretty much says it all. Food is pretty important.

Wrapping it Up



Ray and Chubby penning the cut after preg-testing. Note how Skipper's
tail is pointing straight south!



This is a busy time of year for most everybody, but even more so on a northern tier ranch. As a general rule, weaning is usually done by the end of October. Once the year's crop of calves has been allocated to their various destinations, the ones remaining on the ranch need extra care to help them through the transition. If it hasn't already been factored in, the year's crop of hay and winter grazing pastures are inventoried to make sure there will be enough to get through the winter.

Attention then turns to the factory. The mama cows, who by this time, have trailed home from summer country to the more amenable pastures around the home ranch. Most ranches pregnancy test their cows, and separate bred and open cows with a mark on the hip. Black paint on Hereford or light colored breeds, and lady's hair bleach on the black.

While running through the chute, they also receive health checkups, and are bled by a vet for brucellosis testing if they summer near Yellowstone NP. Usually the herd has been culled directly after weaning, and before trailing home, and the culls hauled off to auction.

The depth of culling depends a great deal on weather factors. i.e., if it's the middle of a drought, cattle will be culled heavily. If the markets and weather are conducive to a profitable forecast, culling is limited to health and extreme age factors. Big, fat, shiny cows with little skinny. leppy calves also go down the road. Or should.



Bringing a bunch of cows in for preg-testing.



For culling, the cows are held up in a pen with a line of cowboys acting as gates and turnback men on the front-end. Usually the owner or manager, and a herd manager will slowly sift through the cattle mentally evaluating each individual's condition. Cattle with problems will then be sorted off.

One year we had a green kid on the crew who knew very little about cattle husbandry. As he watched one bob-tailed cow cut out through the line, he asked why she was being culled. “Because,” he was told (in typical cowboy fashion— this is paraphrased), “Her tail's gone. The sun shines down...(on her bag)...and spoils her milk.”

Armed with this new bit of cowboy wisdom he soon joined the rest of the crew in helping spot problem cattle. “There's another one”, he called out, pointing into the herd. “Which one?” asked the cutter. “That one, the one with the missing tail.”

At least the kid made his mark. That story has probably been retold at least once a year for 30 years. To this day, during culling, at least one cowboy will call out: “You'd better get that one, she's got no tail!”

Smaller herds are often sorted in alleys or corrals with just “Mom and Pop” doing the work. “Moms” who have been helping “Pops” for any length of time have likely developed selective hearing.

A good friend of mine with a hilarious sense of humor, and great “Mom/Pop” stories told me a couple years ago that “Pop” was getting pretty excited and animated during a sorting session, since she didn't seem to be listening. After awhile she just turned to him and said, “I can't he-e-a-r you,” and pulled the earplugs out of her ears. This is the same friend who was on the local school board. She walked into one meeting that was expected to be a bit contentious, with ear-muffs on.

Everybody's usually quite happy once the fall work is done. Life slows down just a tad, and gives everybody a little breather. For years our “vacation” was going to the national convention in January. That's really the only time of year we could get away for more than a couple days at a time.

Sometimes we'd take the kids (since we home-schooled) and arrange for a real vacation after convention. We did take a couple of vacation-only trips when the kids were small though. Disney World in January. Loved it. Even though a lot of the attractions were closed, we didn't have to stand in line. I am not a line-stander, so that worked out well. One of the funnest vacations we took was when the kids were 3, 5, and 6. We went to Mazatlan with a group of farm people. What a hoot! And I thought WE were rednecks!

This time of year, aside from the County Fair, is also the main social season for folks out in the ag world. And it's not just because “tis' the season”. It's because they've pretty well wrapped up another year, and are ready for some slow time to relax, throw another log on the fire, and enjoy family, friends, and neighbors-- and the National Finals!

A man that hath friends must shew himself friendly: and there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother. PV 18:24

Colt bringing home the last of the remuda from cowcamp. 25 below zero.

A Day of Thanksgiving

There's a “special” day for just about any reason you can think of, but my favorite of all has got to be Thanksgiving. We tend to take a whole lot for granted as we go on about our day to day lives, and it's good to have a time where we slow down and look around, and see just how good God has been to us. And what sorry people we are, because we don't deserve a bit of it.

I'm not a big fan of turkey anyway, and it really grates on me to have Thanksgiving Day denigrated to the status of “Turkey Day”. In fact, I seldom cook turkey. Usually we have roast beef and ham. And once in awhile, since we often have guests that expect the obligatory turkey, I will even roast a turkey breast, so we won't be deemed quite as weird as we are.

When the kids were little, we often went to Grandma and Grandpa's-- either one. Both sides of the family had lots of kids, and having all the cousins together was a lot of fun. Sometimes I wonder how the grandparents kept their sanity.



2 of my brothers, myself, and our kids at my folks when they lived in Canada. 
(Confusing since Canada's Thanksgiving is in October.)  Brother standing behind Dad on
 the right, and his bride on the left, are responsible for 5 of the boys-- and a little girl.

But the years when ranch-work wouldn't allow us to get away, I'd cook dinner at home, and invite the single cowboys, or people that didn't have anywhere to go. Old, young, it didn't matter. Thanksgiving is a time for family and sharing, and no one should have to eat alone. Those were special times, and when the kids were in college, they'd always bring home a stray—or two—or three. Apiece. We loved it.


Kids and friend from the Youth Challenge program playing on the ditch after dinner, Thanksgiving 2010

One year we had about six college age kids camped out in the basement. We were way out in the sticks, which worked well. They came to our Wednesday night church service with the kids, and when they got home they got started on a game of pinochle-- and didn't quit. All...Night...L-o-n-n-g!

They killed the pumpkin pie to keep them going. We could hear EVERY thing, all the giggling, roars of victory, and smart remarks. Even with pillows over our heads! I think Clayton and Nate finally crashed about 3 or 4 a.m. Because they had big hunting plans for 6 a.m. That was one of our all time favorite Thanksgivings.

This year it seemed like a week-long Thanksgiving. It has to be one of the best ever.

Our housewarming party was the Saturday before. In spite of hunting, preg-testing, and football championships, we still ended up with over 70 friends, family, and neighbors who stopped by and stuck around most of the afternoon. It was the coldest day of the year so far, but it was warm and comfortable in the house, and we had loads of food and a good time just doing some old-fashioned visiting.

I don't know if we could have pulled it off without those 3 lovely young ladies who we are fortunate to be able to call our daughters. Once the first door-bell rang, I pretty much left them on their own, to make sure all the food and drinks were out, to meet, to greet, to visit, and to make sure kids had help getting served.

We had plenty left for Thanksgiving, and I just left the table extended all the way out because all the kids and the 2 grand-babies were coming and staying overnight. Everybody else who had been invited already had other plans, so this year it was just us. That was special too.

Thanks to little miss “Happiness Captured”, we had the first family photos we've had since Clayton got married. We even color coordinated for the first time ever! Another good day to remember. And to remember how blessed we as a family, and we as a nation, are.

God forgive us for our un-thankfulness.

Blessed be the Lord, who daily loadeth us with benefits, even the God of our salvation. PS 68:19





Cowboy Carpenter



1986 - Cowboy carpenters patching roof
on cowcamp barn. It's gray tin now.

I'm not real sure how this fits with “scenes from the saddle” aside from the fact that this little cabinet looks like something we might have drug in from an old shop or barn. We've explored a lot of old homestead era buildings while out on the range, and have drug in more than one old, but salvageable item over the years.

At least that's the look I wanted. I looked all over the state and E-bay for a specific size cabinet that would fit on the end of that wall, and display my old “True West”, and new “Montana Brand” dishes. And, it had to fit my cowboy budget: fairly cheap, or free.

I finally found this nice modern white laminated one, made in Japan, with the put-together-number stickers still attached to the various pressed wood pieces. BUT, and this was the biggie, it was the perfect size. And I just knew my favorite cowboy could remodel it for me.

He amazes me with the stuff he can do. As long as I don't mind a little...umm... “primitive” look. He calls it crude, but the antique stores call it primitive-- and jack the price up about three times. My taste may be “primitive”, but I guess that's because the style incorporates the distressed “cowboy character” I'm always harping on.

My cowboy took the cabinet outside and went to work on it. He knew I planned on beating it up, so he didn't worry about dinging it. Pleased with the outcome, he set it up on the concrete floor of my laundry/sewing room, and told me it was ready, and that he'd “tightened” it up for me as well.

“Hmmm, I need to get my putty knife and spackle, and fix those screws”, I thought to myself as I glanced at my waiting project when I walked by the room.

WHOA! Screws? I don't remember there being screws on the outside... I didn't have the heart to have a hissy fit and tell my favorite cowboy he'd just turned my expensive primitive cabinet into a cheap crude one. Instead, as calmly as I could, I just commented that if he was going to use screws on the outside, he should consider counter-sinking the heads.

“Well, I knew you planned on taking a hammer and wrecking bar to it, so I didn't figure the screws would make any difference.” was his cowboy logic.

 I managed to get all but 2 of the screws mostly hidden. The other 2 just had those edges that stuck right up there where it was impossible to get a nice smooth transition. Since I didn't really have a clue as to what I was doing, I did a lot of looking on the internet, and combined bits and pieces of several how-to instructions into my own thing.

Then I had another wild hair. I liked the way my re-finished old coffee table turned out so much due to the kid's “distressing” when they were little, that, wouldn't it be neat to carve all 8 of our names (mom, dad, kids and grandkids) into my project, along with the year of our house!

Someone told me, at least once or twice, that not every idea that pops into your head is a good idea. This was probably one of those.

It took me at least 2 full days to get them carved to where they looked kind of right. By the time I'd done Ray and I and the girls, I had figured out that names longer than 3 or 4 letters were too long. I reduced Clayton and Kristine to initials on the other side, but spelled out their 2 kids full names. The good thing is, I strategically placed them to help camouflage screws.

So, this is how I work under pressure-- spend 2 days carving names when I need to be cooking, baking, and cleaning for our housewarming party! I finished a final coat of varnish by 3 on Friday morning, with 35 hours left to get ready for our housewarming... no wonder I stress out. (In highschool I studied for tests the night before with a flashlight under my covers!

Next week... Housewarming and Thanksgiving

Here is a link to a fun blog where I found the best info to get me going: http://movitabeaucoup.com/2010/07/19/how-to-antique-and-distress-furniture-with-paint/)

Cowboy Heart

"Cowboy Conference" Two graduated "wannabe's", and Colt, during fall gather.

It's been said that “a person wrapped up in himself makes a pretty small package”.

Until I married Ray, I never gave much thought to the differences between cowboys aside from the main categories: real working cowboy, rodeo cowboy, and wannabe-a-cowboy. I of course, had my sights set on the first category since I always figured that was the only “real” cowboy.

A guy I worked with up north finally told me that all I was going to find up there were loggers, and that if I wanted a cowboy, I needed to move down here, since this was ranch country, and this was where the “real” cowboys were.

I'd never been to this part of the state, and even up there we made fun of Butte-- next best sport to telling North Dakota jokes! I listened to him though, and I'm so glad. I still run into him once in awhile since he retired in Butte. He's one of my favorite friends from my past, and he is tickled to death that his advice was so successful.

He's the kind whose happiness comes from having a hand in the happiness of others. He is an unusual single person in that his world doesn't revolve around himself. If he weren't an Irish construction engineer, I could probably call him a “real cowboy”. I think if I went deeper into my cowboy distinctions, they would have a general breakdown encompassing most situations: (Bear in mind, I'm coming from a skewed perspective since I happen to be married to the world's best “real cowboy”.)

Real Working Cowboy > has a passion for quality of life, even if it means living at the so-called “poverty” level, and going without some things. That passion comes from caring about basic life, loving to work hard outdoors, and the ability to spend quality time with family. He cares about the welfare of the things under his stewardship, and the welfare of others. He gives very little thought to what others think as long as he's confident he's doing the right thing to the best of his ability. He's very likely to have faith in Jesus Christ, and to glorify Him as the Creator--or at the very least, he lives a life in line with God's laws.

Rodeo Cowboy > also has a passion for life, with a narrower focus. He revels in improving his personal skills to the point where his performance is consistently sharp. Quality of life is not nearly as important, since his passion stems from always looking ahead to his goals. He has a faithful, loyal circle of friends within that focus. Often, his main job is simply a means of subsidizing his personal quest for excellence. He's often on the road, and his main focus is the thrill of the next contest, and making it to the top. Some have a relationship with Jesus Christ, but are more likely to manage that relationship to fit their own personal goals, rather than align their goals to the relationship.

Wannabe a Cowboy > This can actually be broken down two ways. The ones who “wannabe” so bad that they make it happen, and then the ones who think it would be fun to be a part of that circle, but are not willing to make the sacrifice. They are content to put on the garb and look the part-- and maybe even fool a girl or two, as well as themselves. Often the latter category will grow up and move on, but some never do. Some actually work on ranches and make pretty fair hands. But they got no heart. They're in it for the glory. 

It's been fun over the years, to watch some wannabe's become the genuine article. The gal from a wealthy family in Connecticut, the working class young man from Pennsylvania. The black kid from Alabama (with top level political connections) who stole his grandfather's old pickup at age 15, and headed west. Farmers from Wisconsin and Kansas, a couple young high school dropouts from Montana, and this dairy farmer from up north (but south of the border). 

Clayton and Colt, one of the kid's favorite cowboys.



“Real Cowboys”, regardless of their occupation, have a heart for others. Their own success comes from helping others be successful.

Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others. Phil 2:4

Flying Time



Clayton, his wife Kristine, and Kyle, heading out on a miserable, slippery
November day to search for missing cattle.



You'll find a lot of ranchers up-in-the-air about this time of year. Sometimes finding all your cattle for fall round-up can be a bit of a challenge. One of our old neighbors came up short 30 calves this fall. Most of those though, spend summer in an area that's become infested with wolves, and since most of the mother cows are accounted for, it's a pretty good chance that their babies fell victim to the local wolf packs. Pretty pricey dogfood considering the price of calves this fall.

Sometimes, especially with yearlings, there will be little bunches that have found themselves a nice pocket of trees somewhere, or are up on a higher, steeper place than the mountain goats. Those can be a bugger to get even if you find them by flying. Footing can be scary in the summer, but downright treacherous this time of year. Usually it's best to ride to the top of the ridge above them, then bother them until they start moving. (i.e: scream and holler until you're hoarse, and roll and throw rocks down the side of the mountain.) At least they're in the pasture where they belong.

Then you have the case of gates left open by inconsiderate people-- or sometimes torn down by game, or even cattle. The stolen gate I talked about last week, resulted in a case of twenty-some missing cattle. The rancher ended up having to hire a plane to try and find them. Sure enough, they'd all gone through the missing gate to the other side of the mountain. Today Ray and another cowboy drove to our old place-- about 100 miles each way, then rode up the mountain from that side, bringing the missing cattle down to those corrals, and hauling them home from there. A lot of extra time and expense.

On another “flying time” note, I sent out our first batch of invitations for a housewarming we're planning. Scary thought. Can't change the date now. Time to kick in my “work under pressure routine”. I only have one piece of furniture left to refinish, and I want to get that done. Anything else that's not done will just have to wait, or I won't have a clean house or enough appetizers.

Of course I may not anyway since we're flying by the seat of our pants. I don't know if we'll need enough for 50, or 200! Besides the invitations, we're doing an open invitation in our new neighborhood.

I could probably count the parties I've planned, on three fingers. It ranks right below cooking for a crew on the anxiety scale. But, I'm also excited since this is the first time in our married life we've lived in an actual neighborhood, in our very own house.

I've never been scared of flying, so guess it's not time to choke up now!