Dark rain in waves,
an oscillation of applause upon the roof
that soothes and insulates the senses
from the distant discord of mankind,
the lucid transparency of public figures
that saddens the soul—
this narrow canyon lit across in gold,
blind flashes of humility,
the roll of thunder close.
The short-cropped green hangs on
to naked clay hoping for heaven’s basket
of spilt miracles to soften hillsides
for roots—and cloven hooves
reaching for the ridgetops ripe
for more level grazing.
Dark rain in waves
punctuated by the light—
relief for what we know.
It’s an art
it takes concentration
to keep a mind closed
to everything else
and get the same answer
that the simpler the mind
the more dependable
the only excuse
With recent temperatures peaking around 105°, we left the house with headlights early yesterday to Bangs vaccinate 99 head of this year’s heifer calves after making the sort last week. While we waited for yesterday’s 7:00 a.m. appointment with our veterinarian, we decided to keep them on the irrigated pasture close to the corrals, knowing we risked a mix-up with their older sisters, separated only by a barbed wire fence. Something spooked the 99 in a corner under the shade of the Valley Oak on Saturday and they laid the fence down. So we had two bunches to gather and sort before the vet showed.
The vaccination named for Danish veterinarian Bernhard Bangs is to protect against Brucellosis that also infects Bison and Elk, where the greatest concentration of the disease is in the Yellowstone area. Furthermore, female cattle cannot be shipped out of California without proof of a Bangs vaccination that includes a tattoo and metal ear tag that needs to be administered by a vet before the calf is a year old.
But it went smoothly. Bob had most of the 99 baited into the corrals before we arrived and was working on the second bunch of 50 bred heifers as the girls unloaded their horses. Our heifers are gentle. The sort and processing were trouble free—a booster round of calf vaccinations plus the Bangs, injectable wormer and mineral supplement. All done by 8:30 a.m. without hurrying—a great day!
Aiming to keep 50 replacement heifers from the 99, we will make another sort in 4-6 weeks.
Time flies, it seems, as we get older. We vaccinated these heifers yesterday for Brucellosis, though it seems that not long ago we branded them as calves. Averaging 725 lbs., most of these girls will join the cow herd when we introduce them to the Wagyu bulls in December.
As we chase the seasons, the circle seems to get tighter. With most of our cattle work done, we are seasonally at the end, while approaching the beginning, of our cattle year. It feels good to be done as we look forward to fall calving and a chance of rain again. In the meantime, we have plenty of repair and maintenance jobs to address, salt and mineral to keep in front of our cows.
It’s been a warm summer, thus far, well-over a hundred degrees since the Solstice. Despite the shorter days, we expect more of the same through September. With gathering, weaning and shipping our steers to town, we’ve been pushing to this point since April. It seems appropriate to thank our crew, Terri Drewry, Allie Fry and son Bob, here every morning at daylight with smiles on their faces, ready to get the work done.
I’ll not forget the dust clouds boiling out of the canyons when the cattle came to hay in November of 2012 through 2016, while we fed and begged for rain, then had to sell half the cows. Nor will I forget last year’s too much rain, more disruptive to our operation than the four years of drought, unable to get to the bulk of our cattle in the high ground to brand our calves. Then sometime late last spring when the slick calves were approaching 600 pounds, exclaiming to anyone who might listen, ‘all we want is something close to normal’.
Though we’ve made significant advances in the cattle business in the past four decades with bigger and better quality calves and broodstock, the ground stays the same and has endured the ever-present variables of the weather and most of our mistakes. Glacial evidence in the canyon helps reinforce its permanence and durability, the one element in this enterprise that we can depend on.
We normally feed the young cows in the fall when the calves come, concurrently scanning the long-range forecasts for rain to start the grass and give us and the feed truck some relief. And after watching recent promises of an inch or more disintegrate before our eyes with nothing forecast into the future, and while seriously considering petitioning the gods for a little moisture, it’s beginning to feel normal, or close to normal, or so we hope and carry on just the same.
We’re pleased that over half of our first-calf heifers bred to Wagyu bulls have calved in the first thirty days, and relieved that they have instinctually set up nurseries early-on. I’m hoping that last spring’s bumper crop of ground squirrels will keep the coyotes occupied with easier prey, but nonetheless these new mothers seem especially vigilant after calving this year.
Typically a cow or two will stay with a group calves while the other mothers graze to be later relieved of duty after an hour or two. Just how these new mothers communicate and delegate duties is a mystery, but they do. My own unscientific and unproven theory is that the newest mothers whose fresh calves need more constant attention are usually selected to babysit the bunch. After being raised in nurseries, the calves learn the security of the herd and remain quiet and well-behaved until their mothers return. However, back and forth to the water trough in the mornings and early evenings with their mothers, the calves become untrained, running in all directions as they find their legs.