Sunday, May 27, 2018

The End of the Trail


The spring cattle drive is done for another season. A “drive” is the traditional name for moving cows long distances. We call it “the trail,” as in “going up the trail.” There is a subtle but important difference of semantics between trailing cows and driving cows. We still end up pushing the back end, but endeavor to let them “trail” because they know the way and for the most part walk along agreeably.

Trailing days can be beautiful, peaceful days, especially first thing in the morning. And they can be stressful, mind blowing days, maneuvering hundreds of cow-calf pairs past a multitude of obstacles. The first difficulty this year was the temporary three-strand electric fence the department of agriculture installed to keep the herd off a potato field infected with pale cyst nematode. They were afraid the hooves, even along the edge of the road, would transport the pest to neighboring fields. They had five staff persons stationed to divert traffic during that portion of the route. Only a few calves got through the fence, so it was a success. I asked if we could hire them for the rest of the trail!

Other obstacles include yards and gardens in our community. We’ve learned to put up a twine string across driveways. How we appreciate the conscientious country dweller that provides a gate for us to close. Mark found a couple of orange traffic cones in the canal that we used as obstacles this year too. Cows will avoid a seemingly benign roadblock if given the chance. One yard was so vulnerable that I stopped one day and got the cell number of the owner so I could text her before we came by. She and her kids stood guard and helped tremendously.

One morning as we crested the final push out of our farming community heading to range ground, I sat on my horse and visited with a farmer sitting in his pickup. A tractor was working the field behind him. We talked about the challenges of producing food in the fastest growing state in the nation. He said drivers don't like him moving farming equipment on the road any more than they like to encounter our herd. He said he liked the cow scene, even though they were walking on, and grazing, the edge of his farm. We agreed that those of us in agriculture need to stick together.

I don’t know how much longer we’ll be able to trail cattle to the mountains. It’s an old, old human tradition, taking livestock to grass. The symbiotic relationship between humans, grass and ruminants has been known to cultures for thousands of years. It’s so old that most people don’t even recognize what they’re witnessing. I tell whoever will listen that cows and horses and herding dogs don’t walk any faster than they ever have, even though the pace of technology zooms past us. Whether we as a people can value that, slow down and learn how cows fit in our communities and in the environment remains a question.   

photos by Anita Pratt
finally arrived and letting them "mother up"

mountains are other obstacles


we got wet and were glad to be so


beating the rain through the night cattleguard at Boosies


Thursday, May 10, 2018

When May Happens


We’re staging the cows to leave for the hills, putting groups back together since calving and branding, and moving them to green grass on pastures around the home ranch. We’ll open the gates and start walking towards our mountain range next week.

Staging is not to be confused with “shaping them up,” which is the term my Mom used to describe going through the cows and sorting off those that weren't trail ready. The herd will walk fifty miles before they reach the high country. We will walk or ride with them and it’s not for the unfit.

But unfit I am. The older I get the more pain is endured when spending hours on a horse when one has been too long out of the saddle. Yesterday I wore biking shorts under my jeans to go with the rough-out leather pad on my saddle, wore my chaps for extra protection, took two ibuprofen, and I’m still bruised and sore this morning. It was a beautiful day though and so good for my well-being to see luscious grass instead of tightly grazed feed ground.

Mark put an electric string around the house and let the pairs in to graze areas that they usually don’t get to. I had a hard time getting any work done because I wanted to simply sit on the terrace and watch cows eat. Andre Voisin, author of the classic Grass Productivity called the process, poetically, “the cow at grass.”  

The birds are back! How I love the familiar two-note song of the chickadee and the flash of an oriole in his pumpkin-colored plumage. I got in trouble with Mark because I took the good binoculars out of his calving pickup and moved them to the kitchen for bird watching. But not too much trouble because we both enjoy the birds so much.    

I planted the early garden vegies, kale, lettuce, swiss chard, carrots and beets. And we’re getting asparagus! Our humble sandhill ranch grows wild asparagus by the armful. Only a few choice individuals know where my asparagus “gardens” are. My favorite way to prepare the little darlings is browned in butter on the stove, with garlic. 

I helped Mark start water at our farm we bought when the kids were little. The ditch originates at “the Hornet’s Nest,” so named because of the arguments over water rights conducted by two or more farmers at the three-way split. Starting water requires burning the ditch first and then frenzied pitching when the water is first turned in. The canal company has helped Mark for a few years with a bucket on a backhoe. We trade labor. We burn the ditch and they provide the equipment when it's flushed. How did we ever do it with just a pitchfork? 

The glory of spring never pales. Or rather, it only strengthens as we age and learn what glory really means. The work never ends, but there is loveliness all around. The fragrance of the plum tree blossoms in the windbreak, the nest of duck eggs saved from the fire along the ditch bank, the munching of cows gathering grass - and let’s not forget asparagus – are balm for the soul.



Rollah and Dot at the end of a long day
grass at last!


grazing close to the house


this ditch cleaned by grazing


Mark gets a welcome hand