I got up at 3:00 AM. Probably would have been better if I hadn’t slept at all, but it was a Friday night and it just isn’t worth it to stay on the place and give them others a whole Friday evenin’ to talk to all them girls unmolested. I’m going to pay for it now though, all day.
So I pulled on my jeans and boots, grabbed a jacket and headed out to the barn. I look forward to branding each spring like I would my kid brother’s wedding. It’s a long hard day of work, but all the family joins together for it, cousins, brothers, sisters, uncles, and Grandpa Jim presiding like a king over the whole show. Then there’s the food at the end of the day.
Gray was waiting in his stall, looking evil, like he knowed what’s up. Probably an exciting day for him too – lots of other horses to visit with. Horses ain’t all that smart maybe, but they are social critters and like to be around other ones for the most part. I brushed him down good while he ate some grain and a little bit of hay, and then I cleaned out around his hooves with a pick. He looked pretty healthy, but you know how fast a horse can go lame, so I never skip that job. He showed his appreciation by biting me on the leg while I worked. I don’t know why I haven’t sold him for glue. He’s just plain mean. I don’t know, he might be a relation.
I saddled him up, and rode over to Big Jim’s and put Gray in the trailer along with Jim’s horse. We have to ride about 18 miles out to the north end where the cattle have been grazing the past few days. There are about 300 calves waiting anxiously for us there. We’ll herd them all to a corral about a mile from where they are at, and separate the calves from their mamas. That always takes a little time but we’ve got some pretty good cattlemen in the family – and even the young ones like participating in the herding. By the time they are 15, most of them are top hands. That’s the way we all learned, by doing.
They were just sitting down for some flapjacks, eggs and bacon when I hit the back door – and I sat down and ate enough to keep me going for a while. Aunt Elizabeth usually makes breakfast and she’s one fine cook – I love them flapjacks she makes. A good cook makes life worth living, ain’t that right? I probably shouldn’t have eaten quite so much, but I did have a gallon or two of that black coffee, so maybe them things’ll balance one another out a little bit…
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| On the Haggedorn Ranch near Saratoga, Wyoming |
By then, the light was just beginning to show along the eastern horizon over past Dandy Creek, so it was time to go. We want to finish this job before the afternoon sun gets too warm and get to the fun. A little work, then a little fun, that’s the way we do it around here. Life never gets old that way – so we live long, happy lives!
I climbed into the cab with Jim, and we bounced down the road for a good long time. Nobody likes to talk much that time of morning, so that was a blessing. Some of them younger boys was riding in the back and they was pretty lively – probably arguing about who could whip the biggest coyote or something. Curley and Little Jim was back there, and Tim Wilson from the Owens place next door. Tim was getting to be a pretty good hand for a red-haired freckled boy – he came from his family’s place in Reno when he was only about 8 years old – Frank Owens took him in when his mother left them. He started late, but he was learning right along and by now he’s 17, tall, lanky, just a little bit smart and might just as well be one of Frank’s own kids instead of a nephew. Anyway, everyone comes to help with the branding, that’s just our way. And he’s a danged fine boy.
Big Jim finally began to talk just a little – a little bit about what he’s got planned for the summer – some of the work needing done, told me a little about Janet might come home for a while this summer. She’s been going to college down in Brigham City, got a scholarship. He’s really proud of her – she works hard and never gets in any trouble. She was always one of my favorites too. Last year she didn’t come home at all – stayed down in Utah and worked a job all summer to help pay her school expenses. Janet is my niece and Big Jim’s granddaughter. I just listened and didn’t say much; I ain’t a morning person.
We stopped near the place where the cows was – and I unloaded Gray. Jim was going on down to the corral to make sure everything was getting along down there – and my brothers and I would take care of getting the herd moving down that way. Clint and Louis were already there and ready to go, along with their wives, Rhonda and Mary Ellen. Them two’s just like regular old cowboys, they never miss a chance to get up and ride; for a couple of city girls, they’s pretty game. They had the horses already there for the boys, so we got right to work.
We brothers and the boys got the herd moving on down the valley toward the fire. They was all lively and ready to go, like they didn’t have a clue what fun and games awaited them a mile down the way. But we moved ‘em slow and steady down that beautiful green valley, without getting them too excited – how could anything be wrong in such a beautiful place on such a beautiful day? The sun was rising up good and strong and hitting the green-gold of the hills and the rim-rock on the western side of the valley. Things were just aglow in the morning light, with just a slight nip of cold left in the air. The cows were shuffling along and making low cattle noises. It’s my favorite time of the day – too bad I never see it most of the time. I just ain’t a morning person. That pretty little creek running down through the bottom made me almost wish it was time for fishin’ instead of time for brandin.’ But I wouldn't trade my work for any other, even on its worst day - but that ain't this day. Fence fixin' day, that might be the worst one.
Looking across the herd, me and Louis was riding point, Clint and Little Jim next behind and the others moving back and forth along the flanks, keeping 'em moving steady. Curley and Tim went ahead to the fire with Jim, and Rhonda and Mary Ellen were riding drag. Riding along the bottom along the creek, we could see some others stopped along the road, which runs along the ridgeline off to the east. They was all watching the cattle as we moved along the valley floor. I knew why they watched – I’ve seen the same scene myself and it is one of them Kodak moments. There’s nothing prettier or more heart-warmin' than some good cattlemen walking a herd through the grass of a cold Wyoming morning, frost from your breath hanging in the air, and all of God’s finest creation surrounding you. Tomorrow, I’ll give thanks for our good fortune down at the First Baptist Church, if they’ll still let me in after word gets around about what I done last night. God bless my great-grandpa for settling here.
By and by we got them cows and calves down to the branding corral and the cowboys went to work. A couple of ‘em have good herding dogs and that helps a lot. You have to separate the mama cows from the baby cows, and the other steers as well. So we worked together, takin’ turns and got the babies into the corral. The mamas all hung around right outside the fence, making lots of noise and acting kind of insistent-like. They’ve never been split up from their babies before and they are not happy about it, not at all. The calves, well they all bunched up together at one end, like they always do. They figure if they are in the middle of a crowd, you can’t get ‘em. They's wrong though.
Meanwhile, Big Jim and Uncle Randy kept on stokin’ them fires, getting them hotter and hotter and them Bar-H-Bar irons starting to glow with a purpose. Here’s how it works on branding day at the Haggedorn ranch. Once the irons are glowing red, the boys lasso a calf. Doesn’t matter which one (boy or calf), they all get their turn; we got all day. The boys drag the calves to the fires, and Jim lays that Bar-H-Bar brand hot on the side of their butt. It’s pretty thick leather, it don’t do nothing more than make ‘em a mite uncomfortable. It’s what comes next them dogies don’t like much…
Grandma Louise, Aunt Elizabeth and Mary Ellen all got sharp little knives and they can each one castrate a calf in about 6 seconds. They make a couple little cuts, pull out the vessel and cut off them nuts faster than that calf can moo. Not much faster though.
While they’re doing that dark deed, someone else is assaulting the other end of the unfortunate critter with an inoculation or two – whatever Jim has decided they get this time around. About that time, all hands loose the calf pretty much all at oncet, and he jumps up and runs off and one of the kids lets him out at the gate and he runs back to his mama, who moos loudly in protest at the offenses done her chil’. Sometimes, the calf stops and looks at the lady who now holds his nuts and bawls balefully in her direction. Of course, all the other mamas are mooing loudly along with the mama, which creates quite a cacophonous concerto. The one with the balls throws them into a bucket and another calf-victim is dragged up to the fire.
Buck Stevens came by today to lend a hand. Buck is the cowboy. He sits his horse like he was born there, and he wears his old weathered chaps, his jingly spurs and his 1965 Champion Cowboy Belt Buckle and his old hat that has seen the Wyoming sun and weather for prob’ly 65 years – since he was a boy. He’s got a handle bar mustache droopin’ almost down to his chin. Buck looks like maybe he’s sleepin’ in the saddle, he don’t move too much – but he always gets his calf. One throw and that calf is slipped right up to the fire slicker than scum off a Loosiana swamp – and Buck just a’sittin’ there on his horse all business-like and sharp – like a cowboy statue. I’m telling you, it’s the prettiest thing I ever saw, ‘cept maybe for Bobbi Jo Connelly. I’ve seen all the young ladies from 12 to 90 swoon when Old Buck walks by. He’s somethin,’ the genuine article and everybody knows it. Them boys all follow him around like puppies after bacon, just waitin' for him to say something. He don't say much though, lessen he's been into a jug or two.
If we’re lucky, and we usually are, Jim makes sourdough biscuits in a dutch oven about 8 or 9 am while we take a little break – you can have your biscuit with jam or with honey. And all is well with the world.
The branding, castrating and inoculating goes on and on, until all the calves are “entertained.” Sometimes, we hold this event along with a couple of neighboring ranches all together – or sometimes we each hold our own; depends on how many calves we’ve all got. There are enough of us Haggedorns that just doing our own is a big enough day. But we generally always have the help of any neighbor who can get there – and we attend their celebrations the same way.
Sometimes we finish before lunch, sometimes a bit later. After a few hours of branding and castrating, the air is heavy with the smell of singed calf hair and blood – it gets intense with all the noise, the smells and the dust - and I am usually more than ready when it is finished, plus a little bit tired and bone-weary. Folks stand around and talk, and Jim goes out and walks around in the herd, checking to make sure they're all OK and not suffering any ill effects from their party, and finally people slowly take their leave to go home for a short break and wash up, put on some clean clothes and get ready for the pot luck. The boys take the buckets of nuts to their “nut shack,” a long-time tradition of initiation on the Haggedorn ranch – and many other ranches just like ours. They will fry them up in a big cast iron skillet that has been on this ranch since the days of chuck wagons and Old Sweet Pea, our long-departed cook; they will eat them all and they will be sick as dogs tomorrow. It’s a given.
Well, today we finished at 2:30. I’ve got a sore head – Gray tried to scrape me off on a tree this morning – I was chasing down a runaway and was concentratin’ on that little scamp instead of where he was leading us, and Gray ran under some low-hangin' branches. One good thick one caught me right in the forehead. That monster done it deliberate, you know? I coulda swore I heard that horse laughin.’ Big Jim just laughed at me though He said take an aspirin and some arnica and get back to work! Blood don’t faze him much, especially if it ain’t his own.
I took a cool shower and just let that water run over my head for about ten minutes. It feels better now. I got back over to Ma’s just in time for the dinner – everyone brings something and nobody goes away hungry. There’s always beef roast and wienies, sausage, beans, taters, tater salad, green stuff, red stuff, bean salad, biscuits, tomatoes, green beans, squash casserole, pies of every kind and cold iced tea by the gallon. Sometimes there’s a side barbecuing while we work – Uncle Charlie is a damn fine cattleman but he’s an even better pitmaster; so we try to leave him alone with his smoker when we can. After we all got our fill, we sat around the fire in the backyard and enjoyed the coolness of the air and the starry sky. The boys were all out in the “nut shack” cleaning up whatever was left. I think they got one of the pies and escaped with it before Rhonda ran ‘em out of the kitchen with threats of death. They didn’t seem too concerned though when they ran past here.
After a while, things slowed down and got all quiet. I took a turn through the bunkhouse and all them boys was finally snorin' with no thoughts of the calf-fry belly-ache they're gonna have in about three hours. I got the castor oil ready for 'em though. I went on back to my place and I'm ready to turn in, soon as I finish up writin' this.
In the morning, I can sleep in a little bit before I get up and polish my old self up some. Then I'm picking up Miss Bobbi Jo from Rawlins and taking her with me to the First Baptist Church. We'll sit in the front pew, 'cause I figure lettin' everybody in town see how pretty and sweet she is might be good for my reputation; it won't hurt my disposition any either. I’m gonna sleep like a log tonight though, and tomorrow? Well, that’s the day of rest. Bobbi Jo probably won’t get much though.
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