Tag Archives: cows

No, Virginia

 

March 3, 2015

Top of Sulphur – March 3, 2015

 

…you’re not the only ones
who don’t get ‘em all
gathered and branded:

mothers friends, born
and raised together
in trees tangled with brush,

running mates escaping
the Horse Lot in Greasy.
You were there when

they bolted at the sight
of more cowboys
than they’d ever seen—

panicked partners on a whim
hell bent through the fence
for the safety of home

will never know the ropes,
our hot iron or knife,
headache of dehorning

for the fifty pounds
of recuperation. Not worth
it now to anyone.

                                          for Virginia McKee

 

 

WPC(2) — “Reward”

 

560’s DAUGHTER

 

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Slick-eared,
she went ungathered,
missed the party,

missed the branding
ropes and vaccinations—
they wear the same look.

Not wild-eyed, but
about half-guilty,
half-sad they didn’t

RSVP. Still a chance
she’ll make the cowherd
like her mother.

 

COWGIRLS AT WORK

 

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Crossing into spring
to move the low cattle up
to let the grass grow.

 

LIKE CATTLE

February 15, 2015

February 15, 2015

 

                         the green growth the mind takes
                         from the pastures in March;

                              – Wendell Berry (“Goods”)

Like cattle filling bellies
becoming whole to bloom,
resting early in the shade of limbs
awaiting leaves, the pastures pulse
with goodness for as far as I can see.

How spring seemed so much longer
when I was a boy, the world wider
as the hills came alive, breathing
easily as apparitions danced
upon the green between rains.

And it becomes us to overwhelm
all else—renewed proof and hope
for mankind—pattern and possibility
yet on this earth that we absorb
like grass. And we feed upon it.

 

Journal: February 2015 — Seven Pix

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Robbin and I went to the Paregien Ranch Sunday to check the cattle, feed, and rain gauge since the storm on the 7th, 8th and 9th. An 1.43″, which was more than anywhere else on the ranch. We’re still trending warm and dry with wildflowers blooming a month earlier than normal, the poppies above and below in Ridenhour Canyon.

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Despite the lush look of spring, there is no rain in the forecast for the rest of the month with temperatures in the mid-70s. We’ll be needing another rain soon or it will be a short grass season. Nevertheless, the cattle are doing well, both cows and calves, taking advantage of early and strong feed.

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Looking ahead, we shut the cattle out our new gathering field to give the grass a chance to grow before we wean, which is normally in May — but it may be March or April if it doesn’t rain.

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Checking on the Windmill Spring, we were greeted enthusiastically by our independent ‘Little Buddy’ who can be seen helping us cut firewood Here and helping me plumb a trough Here before he was branded and tagged in December.

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Though it appears that we’re both having a drink, I was blowing on the overflow pipe to unplug it. Of course, our ‘Little Buddy’ was well aware of the hay in the back of the Kubota.

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SYMMETRY

 

May 18, 2014

May 18, 2014

 

A crop of fat calves
just weaned from relieved mothers
like peas in a pod.

 

 

WPC(1) — “Symmetry”

Ode to the Crew 1: Six Pix

We set the ‘point and shoot’ on the branding table, the following were shot by several different people.
 

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There is no easy tribute to good neighbors necessary in the branding pen, whether horseback or on the ground. Trading labor is part of our culture, and the work’s not done until everyone’s calves are branded and vaccinated. Towards the tail end of the branding season, our last bunch of calves were big, which makes Robbin and I happy of course, but it also means harder and more dangerous work for everyone.

 

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Our gather to brand in Greasy began Sunday, over a week ago, interrupted by welcome rain that kept us from finishing the process until last Tuesday — some cows and calves had spent eleven days in out Gathering Field waiting for yesterday. Additionally, wood had to be cut for the branding and cook fires, and the weeds in the corral, nearly two-foot tall, had to be addressed with a weed-eater before we were ready.

 

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It was a long day, shirtsleeves weather, warm in the mid-70s.

 

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Always some exciting moments, even though everyone tries to be respectful and gentle with the calves, some were a handful, pushing 500 pounds.

 

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Calm and steady, we have acquired an efficient routine of ropers and ground crew. Divided into two groups of ropers so arms and horses have time to rest between bunches, there’s always time to visit.

 

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OLD NEIGHBORS

 

                        By the excellence of his work the workman is a neighbor.
                        By selling only what he would not despise to own
                        the salesman is a neighbor. By selling what is good
                        his character survives the market.

                              – Wendell Berry (“Prayers and Sayings of the Mad Farmer”)

We wish success for all our neighbors, fat
calves and money enough to buy good bulls
looking for work on our side of the fence,
and ours on theirs, despite best intentions.

Today, old neighbors come to help brand calves
with respect—rope, stretch and vaccinate
rambunctious children to a slow waltz—
to share the bounty of our heritage

despite the drought, despite the cows
we had to sell to save the others
and ourselves. Character upon this ground,
we have survived weather and the market.

 

WAITING TO BLOOM

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In the darkness, I listen to a light strum
upon the roof, visualize the size
of raindrops, calculate the hours

necessary to quench the earth’s thirst
for a week or two before going back
to dream of hillsides too wet to climb,

cattle fat come May – nothing I can do,
but hope and pray for some release.
Sucked dry, we still hold on to a chance

for a verdant spring, grass bellyhigh
and sprinkled with wild colors
from all the old seeds waiting to bloom.

 

HIS HERONS

 

Easter 2014

Easter 2014

 

After rain in spring, I see my father
standing among a half-dozen others
atop fresh mounds of dirt, hear him

praise the Great Blue Heron as the best
‘gopher-getter around’. As the creek
warms, he glides up canyon early,

spends his days wading shallows,
coasting home in the gloaming.
Punctual, you could set your watch

by his circles to work each day,
depending on season and crop.
When it all mattered too much,

he’d slip up the road to check
the feed and fences, the condition
of my cows grazing with his herons.