Once upon a time NewMexiKen was driving across Wyoming. Just about dead center of the state we pulled into a store-bar-gas station for fuel. When I went in to pay (not all rural service stations take credit cards at the pump), a couple of cowboys were in the store talking to each other and the guy working there. The cowboys looked the type — hat, boots, jeans, slender.
“Did ya’ get your elk?” one asked the other.
“Nah, did you?”
“Yeah. What you been doin’?”
“Runnin’ cattle for McCormick.”
And so the conversation went as I paid for the gas and left. And I thought to myself, there’s 100 million guys and gals working in cubicles who surely fantasize from time-to-time about being a cowboy or elk hunting in Wyoming, but I bet there isn’t one cowboy who ever wanted to work in a cubicle.
And so, with that thought, and even though I’m pretty sure Mom and Dad didn’t want their babies to grow up to be cowboys — or cowgirls — I give you my sister Debby’s report on her day Friday.
Yesterday I got to experience what it’s really like doing ranch work in northwestern Nebraska. I was asked to help on a cattle drive, so I took a personal day from rounding up 7th and 8th grade boys at recess to go out and round up about 180 head of black angus cattle.
It was February 8, and the morning was in the low 20’s with frigid winds approaching 20 mph. In other words, BRRRRRRRRRRR!! We saddled up the horses and drove them to the ranch where we were to round up the herd. We left the horses in a corral there, moved the truck and trailer to the ranch where we would eventually end up, then drove another vehicle back to the starting point where we mounted up and started to move ’em out.
Naturally, the cows, a few calves, and several bulls were spread out in the pasture, so our first task was to herd them up and push them out through the corner gate, then get them pointing in the right direction on the dirt county road we would use to move them 2 or 3 miles north to another ranch. Rounding them up and driving them in a certain direction is sort of like forming a wall and closing it in on them. But, with only two riders inside the pasture and one sitting outside the gate to get them going in the right direction, it’s a challenge. There are always a few that will try to break free, so you have to chase ahead of them to cut them off and move them in the direction you need them to go. John, the owner of the cattle, used a borrowed team of Belgian draft horses (similar to Clydesdales) to pull a hay cart with a one-ton round bale on it, and he led the procession. Most of the cows want to follow the hay, so that helps, of course. But you still get stragglers that want to stop and munch weeds. That’s where the pair of trained cow dogs really earn their board and keep.
With John in the lead driving the hay cart, we set off north on Bordeaux Rd. toward U.S. Highway 20. Del and LeAnn rode the sides, and I rode push, which means just what it sounds like: to ride behind the herd and push them forward. From time to time there would be open gates along the road, so LeAnn and Del would hurry up to the gates to block the cattle from exiting from the road and taking off into any open pastures. Unfortunately, some got past Del at one of the gates, so he called LeAnn over from her gate on the opposite side of the road to help round them up and get them back onto the road. Naturally, when she left her post, dozens of cows started pouring through the gate she had been guarding, so I had to rush up the side ditch, through the thick herd, and get into that pasture to block any more from escaping off the road and getting loose on U.S. government land.
That’s where the real adventure began. Del and LeAnn chased the cattle out of the one pasture, then LeAnn hurried back over to the pasture where I was. Hence, another round-up began. Cricket, the horse I was riding, is an experienced palomino cattle horse, so he knew just what to do, and he was fast. Now, bear in mind, it’s below freezing, windy, and the ground is not only covered with dried shrubs and occasional tumbleweeds, it’s rough and uneven with occasional holes, plus it’s covered in snow, and sometimes ice. Fortunately, my mount was equipped with special nails in his shoes that act as small spikes to help him grip the surface somewhat. But it’s still treacherous ground to be moving with such speed.
Picture a posse in some classic western, loping full tilt after the gad guys, and you’ll get some idea of what it looked like as Cricket and I raced back and forth across the pasture chasing and cutting off the cows that tried to get break free. Eventually, we got all but one older calf back out onto the road, and we finally just drove that one north along the fence to the next open gate down the road.
Finally, we reached U.S. Highway 20 and started across, blocking all traffic while the herd crossed. There was another open pasture on the opposite side of the highway, so Del hurried over there to contain the herd and keep them moving north. LeAnn and I encountered one last heifer at the back of the herd that was afraid to cross the pavement. We chased her this way and that for several minutes, to no avail. Eventually we had to abandon her to keep the rest of the herd heading in the right direction. We continued north, then crossed a large, treacherously icy field to the NW and off to the herd’s final destination.
Once the hay had been spread around for them, we loaded the horses into the trailer we had parked there earlier and started back toward the highway. A neighbor driving by stopped us to ask if we’d lost a cow and reported where we could find her, back by the Fur Trade Museum on Highway 20. We drove back to the museum and unloaded a couple horses, then Del and I remounted and started moving the cow back toward Bordeaux Rd. We weren’t even going to try to get her to cross the highway. She must have thought it was a black hole or something to be that afraid. Of course, had she been in the middle of the herd at the crossing, she wouldn’t have even noticed the surface, but that wasn’t the case.
Thus, with LeAnn driving the truck and trailer at a crawl behind us, we headed back to the south on Bordeaux Rd., winding up even further south than where we had originally started moving the herd. We left her in a pasture there and rode the rest of the way to LeAnn’s. Altogether, we rode over 5 miles spanning about 3 hours. Everyone asked me during the morning if I was cold, but I was fine. (I was wearing the new set of long johns that had belonged to Dad, who surely would have enjoyed my adventure, too.) I told them all I have outdoor recess duty everyday, so I was used to the cold, which is true. To be honest, my biggest problem was the wind constantly slapping my hair across my face and obscuring my vision as we loped around, though I must admit my ears got cold from time to time when the wind blew off my scarf and/or black felt cowboy hat with ear flaps.
Needless to say, my thighs ache like crazy today, but it’s a good ache. The thing about riding a horse is, if you’re seated and riding correctly, your heels are pointed downward in the stirrups. That means your leg muscles are flexed the entire time you are mounted. So, in addition to the ache of straddling a horse for three hours and bumping your butt on the saddle as you trot, your calf and thigh muscles are stretched the whole time. It’s a good ache though, because it’s the result of good, wholesome, hard work. But what I wouldn’t give for a nice, deep bathtub to soak in! (Ours is too shallow for a decent bath.)
It wasn’t all hard work and misery, though. In fact, it wasn’t miserable at all. I loved it! It’s such a pleasure to ride with a purpose, and I enjoy having the opportunity to help community members with no thought of return. Besides, I like chasing cows, and I hadn’t been riding for 3 months, so I had missed it. But, what makes it even more wonderful, is the scenery along the way. People miss so much driving along in a fast car.
Everywhere you looked at the hills and pastures around us, the pure white snow glistened in the sunlight like millions of tiny gems. Up close, the miniscule ice crystals of snow acted like thousands of miniature prisms glittering in various shades of rainbow colors. Sometimes there would be a thin layer of dirt on top of the snow along the roadside that would glow like polished bronze in the bright sunlight. Other times the sunshine would hit the raven-colored hides of the bunched up cows as they climbed a hill, and it was beauty in motion. The bulls were comical, too, continuously trying to hump the moving cows and make more calves as the herd lumbered along the road. Even the constant long inches of slobber from the one lone and tired cow we drove back to the south pasture was fascinating to behold as it streamed sideways in the strong wind and shimmered in the sunlight.
Of course, the day didn’t end there–this was genuine ranch work. Once we got to LeAnn’s place and unsaddled the horses, we picked up her husband, Chuck. (He couldn’t help with this cattle drive because he’s in his 80’s and recently had hip surgery.) The three of us headed back into town, trailer in tow, and ate some lunch. Next we headed over to the local vet’s where we picked up a cow and her calf that had just been born. The cow had to be driven to vet in the early morning because she was having difficulty giving birth to the calf whose head was bent back. Amazingly, the calf survived.
Getting the cow loaded into the trailer wasn’t too difficult, but the calf was unable or unwilling to stand. Of course, it was too big to just pick up, and we wouldn’t want to cover it in people scent anyway, so the vet tied its hind legs together and they dragged it across the frozen, snowy, muddy ground all the way to the trailer (which wasn’t all that close). While they took its mom to the trailer, I petted the calf’s little head and commiserated with the newborn about what a hard morning it had endured. I’m not much of a fan of cows, but even I had to admit that little calf was sweet. Its little black body was still wet all over, and it had pale bloody smears left over from the birth on its white face. That’s how freshly born it was. In fact, both mom and calf still had umbilical cords hanging from their bodies.
Once we got the cow and her baby back to the ranch where it belonged, we had to do the process in reverse. I got the calf to stand, but, unfortunately, it wouldn’t be led by a rope, so we had to drag by its hind legs again, even further this time, over the snowy ground, through a mucky, cold puddle, and up into the barn. There was quite a step up into the barn, maybe two feet, so LeAnn and I pulled the calf halfway up by his hind legs, then I got down and lifted the rest of it over the hump and up onto the barn floor. We dragged it to the back stall and settled it onto a small sunny spot in the warm straw. My clothes were a mess, but I was beaming as I petted and soothed it some more, and promised it the worst was over. Anxious to get on with the day’s chores, we herded the mom into the barn stall and left. (I would have used some straw to dry the calf off, since the mom seemed lax in her motherly duties, but LeAnn said to leave it.)
Next, we went back to LeAnn’s to feed her dozen horses. (LeAnn is the person I took riding lessons from. She’s a small, wiry woman in her 60’s, and she has worked like this all her life.) She fired up the tractor and loaded up a giant round bale of straw (1200 pounds or more). Meanwhile, I minded the gate to make sure none of the horses escaped while she drove in. She placed the bale where it needed to go and flipped it sideways. We had to hoist the big, round metal feeder off the last dwindling bale and up over the new one and down in place. (Think ropes and chains and remember there are 10 horses all around us trying to get to the new hay while jockeying for position amongst each other. Naturally that means sudden movements and possible kicks with little regard to humans in the way.) That job completed, we moved to another, smaller corral and I kept those two horses back while she drove in with the tractor and we removed another huge circular metal feeder from their dwindling bale of hay so they could finish it off on the ground. (LeAnn usually has to manage all this labor alone.)
Finally the day was done, the ranch work part at least. We went inside for a while, and she treated me to a cold bottle of “real” Coca-Cola–the kind from Mexico made with sugar like it was originally made here in the states.
After that, I headed back into town, where I ran errands, bought groceries, and drove home. I had less than an hour to eat, shower, and head back into town to chaperone a school dance of 6th-8th graders. That meant a couple more hours on my feet, but it was genuine fun, and it’s an honor to be invited by the students to be a chaperone. Oh the angst of being an adolescent.