The Ranch in Winter

Welcome to the Ranch!

Merriest of Greetings to all my readers. Again, it's been a long spell since my last post. It's been busy, as usual.

Earlier this fall, we brought in the three thousand cows. It was time to be preg-checked, vaccinated, dewormed, and put on winter feed. The calves were shipped out.

Bringing in the cows.

For every day but one, the temperatures while gathering cattle plunged between -20 to -30 C. Blizzard conditions that frostbit the cowboys' faces and gave them icicles on their moustaches. Then it was cold working in the unheated barn processing the cows. Anything we do in the summertime is a hundred times more difficult in the winter. It takes a good fifteen minutes to get dressed to go outside, and by then you're all sweated up. Machinery is ornery. So are cattle. And people.

“Winter is not a season, it's an occupation.” 
― Sinclair Lewis

Lunchtimes gave us a brief opportunity to warm up with cocoa and a sandwich and a Tim Hortons donut, but then it was back to work. I discovered "Hot Hands" hand warmers, but I think I need a onesie made entirely of them!

Preg-checking is often done by ultrasound these days, although if a cow is proving difficult to evaluate, it's back to the old fashioned way: "Arming It." Donning a plastic "evening glove," the vet does a manual check. It's a dirty job, but somebody's got to do it. Yesterday, as we processed pregnant cow after pregnant cow, the vet expressed a wish for an "open" -- a non-pregnant bovine -- because her hand was getting cold!

Thankfully, it's all done now. All the animals are in close now and on feed.

We have snow, snow, and more snow. It's still cold.

Snow Removal - Ranch Style

Despite the frigid weather and deep snow, we are warm in spirit and heart. Our families are healthy, though not near enough to enjoy near often enough, and we have much to be thankful for, including Facebook and phone plans that offer free long distance to loved ones.

The view from the back door.

With most of the fall work done now that I have a part in, I should be adding a flurry of posts within the next few weeks. Until then, keep warm and joyful.

Winter is the time for comfort, for warm food and warmth,

for a touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire:

it is the time for home. ~ Edith Sitwell

Snow, By Any Other Name

It's been said that the Inuit have over 50 words for snow. Some are listed here. Many people I know have just one word for snow, a multi-purpose, not-nice word that doesn't at all reflect the vast variety of wondrous textures and colours displayed by snow.  

The first story I ever wrote featured snow. 

It certainly wouldn't earn me an Editors Choice at FaithWriters, but Mrs. S, my Grade One teacher,  rewarded me with an awesome lion sticker.

Obviously, I didn't know very much about winter yet, living in the Fraser Valley in southern B.C. In 1968, we experienced record cold temperatures and snowfall. As I walked to school in my slip-on galoshes, I pondered what it would be like to live where there was LOTS of snow and VERY cold temperatures. It would be amazing, I thought. What did I know?

The arrival of snow seems like a magical and even mystical phenomenon, a harbinger of glad tidings and jolly, cozy days to come, of fuzzy, plaid blankets and baked apples. It has been memorialized in our best loved childhood literature, and perhaps that is why many of us have such sweet and nostalgic sentiments about snow.

“Anne came dancing home in the purple winter twilight across the snowy places.” 
― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

 “One winter morning Peter woke up and looked out the window. Snow had fallen during the night. It covered everything as far as he could see.” ― Ezra Jack Keats, The Snowy Day

We had a few half-hearted flurries a few weeks ago, but last Friday, the snow came in earnest, and it has been snowing ever since. On Saturday evening, a truck careened off the road, taking out at least 100 feet of our fence, along with several posts. 500 cows and their calves live in that particular field, so we went out in the dark and waded through knee to thigh-deep snow, finding, matching, and patching the broken wires.

Most of our work on the ranch is outdoors, so the cold, long, snowy winter is not as romantic as it once was, and the older we get, the longer winter seems to be. And the more inconvenient. It's desperately hard on equipment, livestock, and six-decades old knees and shoulders. Trips to town revolve around "how bad the roads are."

My happy place, our porch swing and garden. 

No mowing for at least seven months. Two weeks ago, the petunias were overflowing the planters and the sunflowers were blazing like miniature suns.

Even though I have no more illusions about snow, I still love the first days of snowfall, the inspiration to bake, sew, read, and play carols. It's still magical, still makes me feel wistful, but these days, I would like snow to come in smaller doses, arriving politely in time for Christmas, and like a yuletide ornament, gleaming brightly for a few lustrous days, and then quietly melting away. I'd like to retire my boots (guaranteed to 40 below) and settle someplace where we don't need heated seats in the truck. 

Until then, "See it come down." 

Building and Mending

The Cowboy has better than a hundred western shirts. That's not an exaggeration, says me, who gets to iron many of them every other week or so, along with a goodly amount of my own shirts. Fortunately, after dozens of washings the shirts no longer need ironing. They become soft and comfy. But sadly, they are also wearing out.

Dust, sweat, sun, "neck whiskers," multiple washings, and the aforementioned ironings do a number on shirt collars. 

I asked the ladies at my quilting group if they could teach me how to "turn" these worn out collars. They got the "deer caught in the headlights" look. Actually, it was more than that. They had a collective look of terror. I said I know it can be done, because my mom used to fix the collars on my dad's work shirts, getting a few more months of wear out of them.

One of the ladies said she'd rather sew a whole shirt from scratch.

Well, so would I. Honestly. Even if the worn out shirts are The Cowboy's favourites.

It reminds me of a motto we'd recite at church years and years ago.

It is better to build than to mend.

Not that a spanking, new shirt won't eventually succumb to worn cuffs and collars. It will. But mending is Just. Not. Fun. Whether it's patching up a pair of snagged-on-barbed-wire jeans or restoring a broken relationship, setting things right is often unpleasant.

Everyday activity at the ranch -- Mending fences.  Livestock, wildlife, and Men Driving Equipment have a way of taking down fences.

And somehow, things are never quite the same after things are pieced together and patched up. That fence is weakened. The turned and mended collar is still thin and worn on the backside. The broken relationship may still be vulnerable, all because of something said foolishly or in haste.

What breaks in a moment may take years to mend. -- Swedish Proverb

Wearing out and breaking down may be inevitable. But we can still take care to build well in the first place. Use good wire and posts. Good quality shirts last longer in the long run. Build relationships based on trust and respect.

As for the shirts with the worn collars, there will be no "after" photos.
The Cowboy said, "Cut 'em up into grease rags."
Somehow, that seems like a dismal requiem for those faithful, old shirts.
The ladies said, "Cut them up and make a quilt."

Maybe building something completely new is the best way to mend.

Stuck in the Mud

It's hard to believe that three short months ago, we were lamenting about the never-ending rainfall. How we needed to get the branding done. And crops planted.

The rain did go away. And stayed away. Except for a few miserly droplets, we've had nothing since June. We are running out of grass. Which is doable, because we can start bringing the cattle in closer and start feeding hay.

But we are running out of water, too. NOT so doable.

We use "dug-outs" for cattle water. There are over 120 of them on the ranch. Dug-outs are large man-made ponds that fill up with run-off water in the spring and are maintained with regular rainfall. But no rainfall means no run-off means no water for the cows. So the dug-outs are drying up.

Yesterday, a cow waded out too far in a mud-hole of a dug-out, and got herself stuck. I went along with The Cowboy, just for the drive, thinking to enjoy the fall colours.

Help!

What followed was a series of maneuvers involving a chain, a cable attached to the bumper of a pick-up truck, two lariats, two cowboys, and yours truly. I was given the dubious honour of driving the pick-up in reverse to pull the cow out. I could not see over the berm of the dug-out and so had no idea if Bossy was being sucked out of the mire or if she was cemented in place forever. The Cowboy waved his arms wildly in a series of gestures, the meanings of which were known only to him, and I translated the best I could.

First thing I know, The Cowboy started running, and then the other cowboy came skedaddling over the berm, followed by a very mucky, very angry cow. Bellowing furiously, she ran hard and fast, until she came to end of the line still attached to her. (Apparently, I missed the signal for "drive hard in reverse and then stop and drive forward so we can detach the line".)

I have to admit, I was frightened. I just knew that crazed cow was going to drag me through fences and forests and farms, and maybe all the way to the highway.)

Eventually, and this is where the lariats came in, she was roped down, loosed from the chain, and set free.

Not a word of thanks or farewell.

Horribly cliché, I know, but there is never a dull moment around here. If it isn't one thing, it's twenty others.

If you think of it, prayer for a little rainfall would be appreciated. Before the snow comes. Before the ground freezes.

Good Idea, Chloe

As promised, I have a guest writer on my blog today. Jan Ackerson lives in Michigan and is mother to two grown daughters. She is also grandma to a delightful and adorable little girl.

Jan's own blog, One Hundred Words, is fascinating. Each entry is a complete story, totally contained within, you guessed it, one hundred words. Jan's stories are thought-provoking little gems of inspiration and sometimes, a direct-hitting "ouch" or two.

Jan asked me what her story should be about. I suggested something "country," in keeping with my own blog's theme, maybe earthy, maybe humorous, maybe with a little life-lesson. With her well-known mastery of precision, Jan was able to pull it off with this wonderful little jewel.

Without any more rambling, here is Jan's story.

Good Idea, Chloe

Chloe held Dack’s hand as her mother stepped out of her car at the farmhouse driveway. It was Mother’s first visit.

“Mom, your shoes!” Chanel pumps, buttery and sleek.

“These old things? Don’t worry, darling,” she said, presenting her cheeks to be kissed.

To her credit, Chloe’s mother was fine, if wobbly, for the tour of the farm. Back at the house, she held Dack’s arm as she slipped one shoe off. She licked her thumb, rubbed at a smudge, and then with a shrug, she licked her thumb again.

Chloe couldn’t tell her—that wasn’t a smudge of dirt.

Ignorance is bliss, so they say.

Please visit and enjoy Jan's blog.

Family and Other Wildlife

Having a place to go - is a home.  Having someone to love - is a family.  Having both - is a blessing. ~Donna Hedges

We had the privilege of travelling to the Okanagan region of British Columbia last week to celebrate the 50th Birthday of The Cowboy's baby sister. The Okanagan is famous for its fruit and wine, lakes and sunshine.

Each day, we sat in the sunshine and enjoyed the view from the sundeck, visiting together for hours each day.

We were treated by the birthday girl to a dinner cruise on board the Casabella Princess. The lake was a little rough when we boarded, so we ate while moored in the marina, then set out for the cruise.

Incredible food, incredible family and friends.

On our 15 hour drive home, we stopped for a break at Jasper National Park.

Maligne Canyon

A masterpiece carved by water over thousands of years.

No journey through a Canadian National Park would be complete without seeing some wildlife.

A rare treat. A bull elk swims the river right before us.

A group of 10 or so Rocky Mountain Sheep, all ewes and lambs, gather by the road, stopping traffic.

Caribou- - north of Jasper.

We are home, back to "flat land" and ranch work, exhausted, but so blessed to have had this special time with the family in a beautiful part of God's world. An apple pie is cooling on the counter, made with freshly picked Okanagan apples. Another 45 pounds of apples are waiting to be peeled and sliced for the winter, when we'll taste summer and remember happy, warmer days.

*I'll be having a guest writer and friend visit my blog in the near future. To sample Jan's superb writing, visit One Hundred Words.

Three Cowboys and a Cowgirl

I've said it before. I'll say it again. The problem with writing about life on a ranch is . . . living on the ranch. There's no time. There's always something happening. Something urgent. And if nothing is happening, you rest.

In the last two months, we've had family from Norway come for a visit, kids and grandkids stay for a few days, a 100 year family reunion in Alberta, two funerals, and our own road trip to southern Alberta. All that besides regular ranch work of moving cattle, shipping cattle, stacking hay, and on and on.

Tucked in between the reunion and kids coming, we entered our own team in the Ranch Rodeo at the Dawson Creek Exhibition and Stampede. Being a participant in a ranch rodeo has always been on The Cowboy's Bucket List. And this year, he was able to finally check it off, and just as quickly, add it again!

The events at a ranch rodeo are not the typical events you'd see at a pro rodeo or any regular rodeo. Each event is an activity you'd see on a real working ranch on any given day.

Team Doctoring - Heifer is "headed and heeled" and then dabbed with a marker to show "doctoring" has been completed.
Dan hands the marker off to Mike on the ground.

Our team is poised for action as Jessica heads out to rope a heifer for Team Branding. The animal is  roped, then dragged across the line. 

Aaron and Mike "flatass" the heifer, while Dan plants a paint-coated iron on the flank. The brand is judged for clarity and positioning. 

Team Sorting - The heifers have numbered stickers on their backs. A number is announced and the cowboys must start with that number and drive as many animals across the line as quickly as possible - IN ORDER. Any errors in order or other animals crossing the line results in a No Time.

Saddle Bronc - Mike tries to hang on for 8 seconds. In a Ranch Rodeo Saddle Bronc event, a two-hand hold is allowed.

There were two other events in the Dawson Creek ranch rodeo.

Trailer loading. An animal is roped and loaded into a stock trailer.

Team Penning. Again, the announcer gives a number of an animal, say 4, and Heifer Number 4, along with Number 5 and 6 must be driven over the line, IN ORDER, and then penned.

Other ranch rodeos may have Wild Cow Milking, Wild Horse Race, and a Ranch Horse Reining Competition. All part of our daily life here on the ranch.

At the end of two days of competition, our team came in 3rd Place! Congratulations on a job well done, Dan, Aaron, Mike, and Jessica.

(Incidentally, I made the "backpatches" for our cowboys, with our ranch brand appliqued on them, in my spare time  between guests, mowing, and road tripping. Another day, I'll post some other "spare time" or snowy day projects.)