Let’s Call It, Victory Week
#bfrdpwy #aginternship #RightRisk
Week 6 flew by like a hungry peregrine falcon with a target. Between mornings on horseback and afternoons on tractors and side-by-sides, the days have blurred together some, but fortunately I’ve kept notes to keep them straight.
Monday was spent mostly at a branding. We helped out the another ranch, which is a ranch nearby with a similar operating structure, albeit very different result. Their cattle tended a little wilder than ours, but the gather went smoothly. I wrestled calves in the 1st and 3rd rounds and was fortunate enough to rope in the 2nd. While I wasn’t exactly Trevor Brazile, I made huge personal headway in roping—starting out, it was tough to get even a single leg hooked, but by the end of the round, I could be picky enough to drag only the calves I got doubled up and still bring them to the fire at a moderate (but still slow) pace. Oddly enough, the lunch at the end of the branding had a live band and some branded hats and bandanas, which was really cool, if a little bit of a shock to the system. The afternoon was spent mowing trails in our northern section, which would be the afternoon task every day until Thursday.
Tuesday found us making a run through the herds, checking for illness and untagged calves—there’s one calf running around without a tag, but we can’t figure out who he belongs to; the little rat keeps stealing milk from everyone, so it seems like he’s something of a vagrant. After we checked the first set, we bumped the second set up to the next pasture, hoping to get them all moved in that day—this was a task unfortunately stumped by cattle not pairing out very well, so we had to abandon ship and hope that they were near to the gate the next morning.
When Wednesday morning came, they were, in fact, not near the gate. Most of them had actually backtracked into the opposite corner of the pasture, which features a steep hillside, a vegetated draw, several thick brush stands, and more rocks than the moon. As such, the gather was somewhat irksome and arduous for my horse, who I am sure was wishing I had picked any other steed that morning. Nevertheless, old Elizabeth persisted, and we got the cattle moved for good this time into the next pasture.
Thursday morning brought on the movement for the southern herd, which went significantly better, even with a couple of calves attempting high speed chases. Thursday held an extra gem for me personally when I was talking to Cade about saddles—I ride my great uncle’s saddle, which is about an inch too big and a little flat in the cantle and thin in the swells. It’s a great mountain saddle but leaves some to be desired in the cowboying sphere. As such, I’ve been on the hunt for a good saddle for cowboying that I can afford on my college student budget—these things, I have learned, are literally far and few between. While explaining this to Cade, who builds saddles himself and has given me a few tips on how to work leather as I explore the craft, he told me that an expert saddlemaker in Sheridan offers a course on how to build saddles wherein you get to make one or two yourself and keep them. Moreover, the GI Bill for the Army may cover it, since it’s education, so functionally, I’d get two free saddles and the opportunity to learn how to make even more.
Saddles aside, there was still work to be done. John and I spent the afternoon setting up a boat on the dock at the lake—it needed transport, a tarp, and a little bit of dock maintenance before it was good and set to go. Friday was a lot of ranch beautification. I cut limbs off trees, swept out the barn, organized shelves, and did all the things required to make the ranch look nice before the owner arrived, who I got to meet. Overall, not as arduous or glamorous as riding, but still necessary and rewarding—the racks finally look organized, which is always nice.
Saturday, however, was pretty glorious. For the first time ever, I found myself at the helm of a tractor big enough to have an enclosed cab. We were stacking hay, and my manager figured it was as good a time as any to train me on using something a little more standard for typical farming tasks, which was an exhilarating experience. I’ll admit, tractors tend to scare me—they’re expensive, complex, breakable machines and I don’t have the greatest luck with engines. That said, I swallowed my fear and hopped up into the cab and just did the dang thing—I’ll be damned if it didn’t make me smile pretty big. Sometimes, ranching comes down to just doing the thing that scares you and reminding yourself that when you’re a beginner, it’s okay to be an idiot—no one expects you to be a prodigy, so just take it slow, accept that you’ll make mistakes, and try not to break anything. Not only did I not break the tractor, trailer, or truck, I didn’t drop a hay bale on the road, and by the end of the day, I was moving bales in second gear—still a little jerky, but smooth will come with time. Either way, it was a pretty good victory, and one I celebrated with a rifle and a town of prairie dogs that needed a little bit of controlling as the sun set on a week full of victories, big and small.
Submitted by: Leigh Stockton
Edits by: GrowinG Internship Team
