Branding 2012

The weather was looking good, and the calves were getting big.  I decided to brand on Saturday May 12.

The first two calls I made were to my son-out-law Phil, and his brother Darin.  These two are top-notch stockmen, and I had depended on their help for years.  We three had made the basis for a Ranch Rodeo team at Wilsall for some 7 years running, and had taken 2^nd place in 2008 among 40 of the best hands in the ranch country of Park County.  They were clear, so I made a number of other calls to round out the crew.

I figured that we would need three ropers, a brander, two vaccinators, and six wrestlers.  Phil, Darin, and I could swap off roping/branding, but we would need at least one more good hand to alternate with us.  And it’s always better to have one experienced cattleman to spare for coaching wrestlers and handle contingencies.

In big ranch country there are plenty of neighbors with whom to trade help.  But most of our neighbors now are “gentleman” ranchers, and the rest have quit roping and gone to using a calf table to brand.  I was depending on friends from down-country for help.

Several of the stockmen I called had other commitments, and I was starting to get a little worried about crew.  I had my son Ted for sure, his buddy Shane, my neighbor Brian, and my Nephew Todd.  Along with Phil and Darin and their kids we could get by, but it might be more like work than we would like.

Ted had some friends from Bozeman, however, and they chose that weekend to celebrate Ted’s birthday with a camp-out along the river.  Most of them would be of marginal value, but there were a couple that might be good help.  I scored two other cowmen to help, and we were in business.

Gathering the cows from the pasture is an easy task, but a real adventure for some folks, and there is always too much help for that part.  Robert asked if the cows would cross the bridge alright, and I said “yes – if no one crowds them”.

I was still setting up equipment in the corral when the cows hit the bridge.  I heard more hollering than was useful, and soon saw cattle and horses running across the field the wrong way.  Someone must have crowded them!

I mounted my horse and crossed the bridge while the cows were scattering and joined the effort to gather them again.  I was told that one of the town dogs had been on the bridge when they tried to cross the first time, but that he was now tied safely to a post.

On the second go at the bridge it was a bull that held things up.  He stopped on the bridge and turned back at the herd, bellowing his belligerence.  I pushed through the herd and took the bull into the corral – it wasn’t long before the cows were coming across the bridge.

The cows don’t associate corrals with anything nice, and it took some pushing to get them through the gate.  Then we began sorting the cows away from their calves and pushing them down the alley and up the chute to receive their annual vaccinations for a couple of reproductive diseases, a couple of respiratory diseases, and a couple of intestinal diseases.

By noon we had the cows all worked, and were ready to quench our thirst at the beer keg and have some lunch.  Kathi brought sandwiches down to the corral, and we ate under a clear blue sky.

My grandson Toby and his cousin Justin wanted to do the vaccinating, so I designated their older sisters to monitor.  When the irons were hot I sent in three ropers.

Soon the calves were coming out as fast as I could brand them.  I didn’t have time to look around to appraise the wrestling, but I did notice that Darin’s son Cody and Ted’s girlfriend Julia were doing an excellent job.  My granddaughter Taylor handled her share, as well as some of the Bozeman crowd.  Soon a fourth roper went in.

Each of the ropers was attempting to snare both hind feet.  Unless one foot kicked out of the loop, a single wrestler could hold the front of the calf, with the roper still dallied to the hind feet.

After an hour one of the ropers came out and took over the branding so I could rope.  Again I was so busy I didn’t have time to look around, and the next hour went quickly.  Two hours after we began branding, the last calf was drug to the fire.

The whole event had gone very smoothly, and it was a delightful day - a fun time for everyone. The calves were soon back were there mother's and headed back out to pasture - and we were finished for another year.

“April showers

bring

May Flowers”

Where?

 I did see a dandelion, but I haven’t seen many flowers blooming in Montana in May.  In fact, this morning brought one more snowstorm.

We’re still trying to get a hayfield worked up and seeded – the operative word being trying.  The last week has been cool weather with numerous showers.  That doesn’t promote the growth of grass, and it mostly keeps us out of the field.  We did get some tractor-work done yesterday, but it wasn’t as effective as it could have been.

Our goal is to uproot the old grasses which are no longer productive, and create a good seed-bed for a new crop.  If the dirt is too damp it remains in a clump on the roots, rather than crumbling away and leaving the roots exposed.  It also makes the implement pull harder, so we can’t work the soil as deep.

The tool we are using at this point is the “duck-foot sweep”.  Each of these duck-foot shovels is a foot wide, and the shanks are a foot apart.  

Mounted on the back is a set of spring-tooth harrows.  The sweeps under-cut the sod and tip it up; the harrows break up the clumps and roll the grasses up to the top where they wither and die.

The grass is turning green, but it is a ways from providing feed for the cows – thus we are still feeding every day.  The cows are getting pretty finicky, and leave the courser stems after picking through for the more tender alfalfa leaves.  They soon spread out to crop off whatever new growth they can find in the grass, but they come bawling at the sound of the tractor, as they are still hungry.

We’d like to be farming, but there is plenty of other work to be done.  We got the irrigation pump in this week did some work on it – relocating the primer pump, adding a new priming valve, and building a support bracket for the new, heavier valve.  We pulled apart the gated pipe in one of the hayfields and replaced two 30-foot sections that had shattered last winter.  We got the last of the pairs turned out, and we did a little more cleaning in the old house.  And there always seems to be desk-work that needs to be done.

The forecast for next week is sunny and warmer.  We’ll see….

Ahhh... Spring....

One of several significant events in a cowboy’s year is the day every spring when the feeding ends and the cows are turned out to grass.  Most years in Montana that day arrives late in May – but it seems to be coming early this year.

The early part of this week was unseasonably warm, and I actually got several days of farming done.  We finished harrowing the hayfields and two passes tearing up an old hayfield.  We had the last calf for the year, and turned out most of the remaining pairs into the bigger “outside” bunch. 

The temperature got up to 80^o this week, and the grass was beginning to grow – not enough however to sustain either the cows or the health of the grass.  The cows are getting pretty particular about the quality of hay we feed them.  They are as tired of eating hay as we are of feeding it, and they walk away from what is too course to suit them.

One never knows, however, what the course of the weather will be.  After a week of fine grass-growing weather another storm blew in.

If it warms next week, we could turn the cows out to grass early this year.  If it turns cold again we’ll be feeding for awhile.  Farming is on hold for a few days at least, until the field dries off a bit.

Blue Jeans

We went to a funeral this week for the matriarch of a neighboring rural family.  Although she lived in the country, this woman had once been the county treasurer – and thus the mix of attendees was slightly different than it might have been had she spent all of her days on the ranch. 

For some reason, I was paying attention on this occasion to the apparel of the arrivals to the chapel.  Most of people were dressed neatly, yet only a few suits and ties.  The ranchers, however, stood out.  Each of them was wearing a new pair of blue jeans and carrying a hat.

These cattlemen were all dressed in their best shirt, and most had on a wool vest.  They were, of course, wearing clean boots as well.  There were a few who wore western cut sport coats – as were all the pallbearers.

I, myself, was dressed a little better than the common cowboy.  Rather than blue jeans I wore tan Wranglers with a complementary brown wool vest.  My brown leather belt matched my brown sharkskin boots, as well as the wallet I received for Christmas.

One fellow of particular interest to me was my neighbor Jeff.  He had been closing a gate behind his tractor as we went by, a mile away from his headquarters.  He was wearing his normal threadbare brown duck outerwear, and I was surprised that he wouldn’t be attending this funeral. 

But he showed up only minutes behind us in all his town finery.  He had obviously been wearing new jeans and vest under his bib overalls, and had removed one layer when his wife showed up with the pickup.  In fact, the tractor was still sitting by the gate when we returned home.

As I said, the ranchers were all carrying their hats – and that presented a bit of a problem.  There were several men that I didn’t immediately recognize bare-headed.  Their hat is as much a part of them as their coat – and when they take off the hat and reveal a bald head, it’s a bit of a surprise.

I laugh and shake my head whenever I see faded, worn, and ripped jeans around town.  I have a few pairs like that myself, but would never wear them in public – I save them for days when I am working on equipment that will leave them dirty and greasy.  These jeans of mine earned their wear and tear honestly, but I change out of them and take a shower when I am finished with an oily task.  Those folks in town never wear anything out, and I wonder what motivates them to pretend they do.

As with most country folk, my choice in clothing is pragmatic rather than a fashion statement.  I wear most of my clothes a couple of years for “good” before they are relegated to ‘work’.

It is the same concept as my chaffing at mowing the lawn:  If I’m going to water it and cut it, I want to bale it and feed it to the cows. 

Doing things just for appearances doesn’t make much sense to me.

Rain, Rain, Another Day

Rain, Rain, go away.

Come again some other day.

            This morning brings mixed rain and snow with a temp in the mid-thirties – not ideal conditions to be outside in the weather.  But I still don’t wish it away.

            The falling snow is melting down here along the river, but sticking a few hundred feet higher.

            Cold, dry snow is not much of an issue as a person doesn’t get wet.  But this stuff soaks a guy up pretty quickly, and wet clothes don’t insulate.   For my morning feed I donned leather chaps, wool vest, rain slicker, rubber-footed boots, and rubberized knit gloves.  I had a load of hay on the pickup for the big bunch of pairs, and I gave them what they could clean up in one sitting, then loaded up for an afternoon feed.  

            I normally feed the heavies late in the afternoon, as eating in the evening encourages them to calve during the day.  But they bawled so piteously that I relented and gave them half a feed this morning also.  Most of my gear hadn’t soaked through by the time I finished - only my hands were cold.

            This wet weather is a bother, but I don’t begrudge it.  Those of you who follow this blog will note that it has been sporadic for awhile as I have been busy with calving.  And I had been a little worried that we might not have enough moisture for a good hay and grass crop this summer.

            But at the same time I have been anxious about getting some spring plowing done.  Hayfields must be renovated every ten years or so to maintain maximum production.  There had been a long period before I took over management of this ranch since the hayfields had been re-seeded, and it has taken me awhile to catch up.  I hope to get to the last fields this year.  Wet weather has been keeping me from getting the farming done – but it also improves the production all over the ranch.

            Feeding has become more challenging this year.  My initial calculations had forecast that I would have just the right amount of hay on hand from what we put up last summer.  But some stacks had been lighter than I expected, and some of the hay had been of lower quality than we needed.  By February I figured that we needed another 50 tons to get through May.

            Most years we have to feed through most of May before the grass is ready to turn out the cows -  http://mellinniumcowboy.blogspot.com/2011/05/other-side-of-fence.html  - although I have turned out as early as May 1^st.  So I ordered another two semi-loads of hay.  With the way the weather has been since I ordered the hay, however, we won’t even use up the hay we have! 

            I do have one stackyard, yet, full of top quality alfalfa hay that the cows clean up, and I want to time that to feed for the last two weeks before we turn out.  But when will we turn out?

            If the weather stays as warm as it was last week, the grass will be beckoning two weeks hence.  But if it stays cold and wet as this week, we’ll be feeding well into May.  Do I feed this last stack now, or save it?  When will the last two weeks be?

 

            In the meantime I’ll use this weather to my advantage, catching up on my blog, and working through the accumulation on my desk – searching for that soothing glimpse of the wood underneath.