We’ve had a string of cow-working days. Preparation for
winter means weaning calves and processing individuals to update their
vaccinations, and giving them their annual dose of parasiticide. The bulls are
taken to their own pasture. The calves are trucked to the valley where they can
eat our best feed. The adults stay in the mountains until snow forces us out.
Ask any cowman or woman, and they’ll tell you that fall is
their favorite time of year. The weather has cooled, the horseflies are gone. The
mature perennial grasses are a soft, buttery color. The trees and brush go from
yellow and rust to shades of grey. And when the calves come off a silence
descends on the herd that’s like winter herself.
We walked the cows to their fall pasture yesterday. They
stretched for more than a mile, walking single file. Watching them this time of
year, I always think of the word “resolute.” They know where they’re headed.
They trust us.
My sis rode with us a couple of days. She enjoyed it a lot, and
having her along made me remember why I married a rancher in the first place.
Riding horses and trailing cows was a grand activity when we were kids. And I
still love it, it’s just that the burden of ownership gets in the
way.
Yesterday was near perfect. Not only was the weather sublime
and the cattle willing, but we had some excitement before the day was over when
we collided with a band of sheep. The big white dogs that provide predator
protection to the sheep started chasing our cows. The sheep got in the action
and all three species came barreling toward us scaring our horses. Kit took her frightened horse
out of the melee and I got off Jane, afraid that in her fear she might
remember she knows how to buck. Mark got control of his Doc horse and with the dogs got the sheep
collected and away from the cattle. In a few minutes all was quiet again and
the herd was safely through the gate.
Kit has come back to riding horses. She was too busy raising
kids, and working and owning a family business, to commit the time, energy, and
money required to keep a horse fit. Never mind the tack and pickup and trailer to have on
the side. She had an epiphany a couple of years ago when she had a rare day off and
happened to ride a friend’s mare, one of those memorable horses that is kind, responsive
and an absolute joy to handle. Kit remembered just how much horseback riding had meant to
her as a young woman. Now she has a good, safe horse, her own saddle and her
own transportation.
Most of all she has the luxury of time . . . and a post-fifty mindset that
says, “it’s later than you think." Time to put first things first.
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| counting them through the working corrals |
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| my sis and me |
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| weaning day |
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| Doc and Jane, our helpmates |
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| before the sheep incident |
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