Thursday, July 18, 2019

Predictability and Change

We made it to the summer range. Does this sound familiar? Sometimes I feel like I'm saying the same thing over and over, because the rhythms of our lives repeat year after year. If we are lucky, they are rhythms we like. The groove, the lullaby, the tango, the march, the two-step, the waltz.


Little Red 


















We had good help again trailing the cows, another circling around with children and grandchildren. Mike and I got things started, gathering the herd and bringing them down to the river bar below the house. We sorted off steers and left them in the corral and took the cows and calves across the river and pushed them up through the gate towards Crazyman Point.  While we were over there, Sedona decided to escape the horse pasture, swim the river, which was pretty high with meltwater, and jump the fence to join us. Silly mare. She missed Chester.

Gathering cattle off the East Bench in the canyon




















Next morning I trailed cows and calves to the Hall place and Gabe and Mike hauled the steers to the valley. Chester picked up the long trot until we found the cattle who were all the way to Packsaddle. I held them while Gabe and Mike passed by with the trucks and trailers. Then it was a short push back to Halls and through gate. After that Chester carried me smooth and fast back to the house. No shenanigans. It was a nice day.


Cows leaving Packsaddle for Halls




















After letting them graze at Halls for a week, Prairie and Mike gathered the cows and calves and got them started up Log Creek. The heavy rains of spring had turned the draw into a poison oak jungle. Gabe hiked up early that morning to clear trail, with a chainsaw! When he got back to the house I met him at the door with a bottle of poison oak soap and a towel and said, "Take a shower!" Amazingly, he never broke out with it, but I did.
Harlan has a horse sit at Log Creek with Prairie and Sara




















Next morning, day four, we got off to a late start. Prairie and Jon and Harlan had to head back to Portland, so Cammie, Gabe, Dawson, Weston and Abby came out to help. The cattle had topped out and overnighted near a pond by the cambium peeled trees and in the morning they'd wandered off to graze.  For a while we were afraid we might have lost them in the timber, but no, they were good cows and had stayed on the trail toward Thomason Meadows, more or less.

Cammie, Dawson, Wes and Gabe heading cows toward Thomason













The wildflowers were in full bloom, larkspur, Old Man's Whiskers (Prairie Smoke), yarrow, allium, paintbrush, clarkia, erigeron, biscuit root.  While hiking through the forest, Weston picked a bouquet for Mike. "I really love nature," Wes said.

Mike's bouquet

By the time we got to Thomason, the day was quickly heating up. We took a lunch break and let the cows drift and graze for a while.

Lunchtime with Abby, Cammie, Dawson, Gabe, Wes




















The longest part of the day was getting from Thomason to the head of Alder Creek. Cammie and the kids and I rode, while Mike and Gabe drove the trucks and trailers. At one point a bunch of McClaran bulls started bellering on a ridge off to our right. Dawson and Wes engaged in a bull-calling contest until I told them to quit and hurry up and get the cows through the next gate before the bulls decided to come join us. Pretty soon about eight red bulls came roaring up to the fence. Luckily they were more interested in harassing each other than getting in with our cows.

Leaving Thomason

















Mike had already hauled our bulls to the McClaran corrals at the 400 acres. The plan was that when we came by with the cows, we would turn the bulls out and the herd would be back together for the summer. When we got near the corrals, Mike rode off to let the bulls out while I pushed the cows through the gate into the 400 acres. Unfortunately the cows balled up at the gate at the same time my horse decided to throw a hissy fit about her buddy leaving her behind. She started dancing around and I figured I'd better get off, but everytime I undallied my McCarty rope from the saddle horn and took my foot out of the stirrup she'd spin another circle and I'd have to redally and push her forward so I could stay in control.  I'd made about three unsuccessful attempts to get my horse to stop, when I saw that Mike had let the bulls out and they were on a dead run for the cows, half of whom were still on the wrong side of the gate. I finally just bailed off when my horse was turning a circle. I landed on my feet and shoved the last of the cows through the gate and got it shut before the enthusiastic bulls plowed into the herd. Boy were they glad to see those cows.

Sara and cows at the 400 acres on the Zumwalt Prairie




















After that little excitement, everybody calmed down. We were almost to our summer pasture and the last bit down through the trees to the head of Alder Creek went smoothly. In the bottom we saw where an incredible gully washer had gouged an eight foot cut right alongside the two-track leaving huge ruts in places and taking out a fence in the process. We turned the cows through the last gate and propped up the fence as best we could. We figured the lush grass, tired cows and eager bulls would be happy to stay put until we had a chance to come make the needed repairs. 


Like cow, like calf, a good mama on the summer range























As we rode back toward the corrals we talked about how it seems like the flash floods are getting worse and more frequent with climate change and the increasing intensity of storms.  And we thought about adaptation, and what it feels like to live with unpredictability. And we were glad to be certain of one thing, we made it to the summer range again and a late dinner and hot bath were waiting for us back in the valley. 

From Sara at Magpie Ranch, home of Bunchgrass Beef