Friday, April 27, 2012

Prairie Spring - Part One


I wrote this story over six years ago, after being inspired by a friend as he described a similar experience with his own father. These days, this is "everyday" life on the ranch; even as I write this, The Cowboy is out on his horse riding through several herds of cows. There are 3000 cows and first-time calvers due between now and mid-June, so it's a full time job checking. 

As in the story, there are mishaps. Calves coming breech. Over-sized calves. Twins. Some can be helped, and for others, as in the case of opportunistic predators, it's too late. And last night, after a day of wind and rain, we had late winter snow flurries, adding to the mix of dangers to newborns.

As always, I hope you enjoy the glimpse of ranch life.
* * * * *


“Rob, wake up.”
I opened my eyes and tried to focus on Dad’s face, inches from my own.
“Let’s go, Cowboy. Time to check the cows.”
In the gray dawn, I could see the wisps of Dad’s breath. I burrowed my six-year old self deeper under the blankets, reluctant to leave the warm bed. I stuck out a foot and knew there was nothing for it but to leap out all at once. I jerked my stiff jeans on over my long johns and buttoned my shirt with uncooperative fingers.
Dad was stoking the woodstove, firelight flickering on his face as he shoved in pitchy chunks of spruce. I huddled beside him, watching sparks and flames dancing together. I wanted to stay for a few more moments, absorbing the heat, but it was time to go. 
Morning was a crimson flush on the horizon. I followed Dad to the barn, avoiding dirty slush and ice-crusted puddles. While Dad saddled Sam, his big bay gelding, I tried to keep warm by hopping from one foot to the other. Then, he hoisted himself into the saddle and pulled me up behind. 
It was springtime, but spring is a fickle season on the northern prairie. New grass creates a green blush on the far meadows, and poplar twigs bulge with the promise of leaves, but a sudden snow squall can obliterate a barb wire fence ten paces away. A late freeze can prove deadly, especially for calves born on the open prairie. On this spring morning, we were going to see how our cows had fared during the night.
The cows were huddled together on the lower end of the calving pasture. We moved among them, Dad murmuring gently. A few cows got to their feet, and others milled about, lowing softly. Nothing was amiss, so Dad scanned the field for loners, a sign of pending or recent birth. 
Sure enough, there was a shadow halfway up the field. We approached the cow carefully, not wanting to disturb her if she was labouring well. 
The cow was nosing at a shadow on the ground. Inadvertently, she had birthed the calf into a pool of meltwater. Dad dismounted and squatted, drawing the calf out of the water. It was limp and cold but breathing. Dad slung the calf across Sam’s withers and remounted. 

. . . to be continued . . . 


Friday, April 20, 2012

Spring is Sprung . . .


. . . the grass is riz,
I wonder where dem boidies is.
De boid is on the wing.
Now isn't that absoid?
De wing is on de boid!

I learned that poem in another century and have yet to learn the poet's name. But there's no wondering where "dem boidies is" or any other evidence that spring has finally sprung, for the signs, besides the robins and crows, are everywhere. Even the snow drifts from what we hope was the "sting in winter's tail" last weekend are melting.

Tree buds are fat, the catkins have burst, and along the edge of the walkway, a few shy green blades of grass are poking up. My perennials are faithfully returning, but I'm going resist the temptation to pull away the dead, dry trash matted from around the sprouts for a few more days, because I know from experience that's a sure invitation for a late frost to burn away those tender first shoots.

And today marks the Opening Day of Calving Season. We've had a few early arrivals, but today is the official due date of most of the 3000 cows and first-time calvers on the ranch.

I know I'm cute.

As I mentioned before, another of the farm wives (who lives on the ranch, too) and I cut the twines from almost 900 round bales, so the soon-to-be moms wouldn't be disturbed by tractors and fee-wagons during their calving time. This is from last weekend, after that (hopefully) last blast of snow.

Hay, hay!
And finally, and sadly, another sign of spring is increased predator activity. Wolves need to eat, too. And it doesn't take them long to acquire a taste for veal. 
Wolf print. 
Welcome, Spring and her hurried seasons of planting, gardening, cleaning, branding, and mowing. She arrives quickly, as we go to sleep with snow drifts banked against the back door and awaken to dandelions overtaking the lawn. Suddenly, everything will be green, so green that it hurts our colour-starved eyes.

And since it's above 0º today, I'd better go put on a pair of shorts and sandals to enjoy wearing them while spring and summer last, because before we know it, it'll be time to put away the mower and garden hose and batten down the hatches.

Every spring is the only spring, a perpetual astonishment.  Ellis Peters


Thursday, April 5, 2012

No Rest for the Weary


Recently, I remarked to several friends who'd encouraged me to update this blog, that the problem with living on a ranch and writing about it, is that you're living on a ranch. It's busy. It's unpredictable. And it's exhausting.

One season turns into another with a new set of challenges and experiences to enjoy and persevere. There is, as the proverbial saying goes, no rest for the weary.

We are on the brink of calving season, due to begin April 20, although there's been a few early arrivals. It seems we've been preparing forever, getting calving supplies ready, making sure there are plenty of hands, and setting out bales in the fields for the cows during their delivery time. Along with another of the farm wives, I've pulled twines from almost 900 round bales, and there's still a few hundred to go. The cows, 3000 in all, and including 1300 or so first-time calvers, all need to be sorted into manageable herds and moved to their prospective birthing grounds.

At the beginning of February, we moved a herd of 750 cows or so to the north end of the ranch. It was a frosty and sunny winter day. 

Frosty mist.

Move along, ladies.

New home.

Saying prayers for a successful and bountiful calving season, strength for all the cowboys, and no wrecks.

Free2Be-design

  © Blogger template Simple n' Sweet by Ourblogtemplates.com 2009 * © customized by Mari @ Free2Bedesigns.com

Back to TOP