Working in Cottonwood - fall 06
Last month I had to move some cattle down the country into our Smith Canyon pasture, according to the annual operating plan we'd agreed on with the Forest.
looking down into Smith Canyon
I camped by myself at a set of corrals and a little holding trap we have in the middle of our Cottonwood Pasture.
camp at Cottonwood
The second night I was there I'd just gone to sleep when my horses got into a fight and an ORO mare tried to escape by jumping over the barb-wire fence, but she didn't quite make it. I had to cut her out of there and drive the 3.5 hours home to doctor on her and catch a replacement.
The next couple of days went pretty good. The cattle were fat and there was a lot of feed left. If I owned the whole place I might have left them there a while longer, but I figured I better stick to the plan. They were really scattered and the biggest bunch I trailed up only had about 5 cows and their calves in it. On the 4th day I started out of the little holding trap with about 40 cows and their calves and a few bulls (about 80 head, total).
heading for Smith Canyon
They left the holding trap in fine style and strung out about 1/4 mile as they traveled up the road. I was pretty proud of them as at the rate we were traveling I figured to make the 4 mile drive by noon and still have plenty of time to brand the handfull of late long-eared calves in the bunch. That was when I snapped the picture above.
If I had been up on the point where I should have been instead of back there farting around with my little camera patting myself on the back, I probably could have kept the leaders from turning up Mud Spring canyon to get a drink instead of staying on the road like I wanted em to. But I wasn't and they did and when I ran up there to turn em around another little bunch went down the canyon and pretty soon I had cattle scattered all over the place. This was when I began to re-think my idea about how efficient it would be to just work this pasture by myself.
After many bad words and a lot of effort by my little mexican horse Noriega ( Frank Begay re-named him "Osama" because he's hard to catch), I finally got em lined out and up the road to where I was gonna brand the calves and put em through the gate. Which I would have done if I hadn't figured out when I counted them that I was short 4 cows and had split 2 pairs - a red steer and a black heifer hadn't mothered up and were looking back down the road.
I went back to Mud Springs where I'd spilled them and cut for sign around the outside of where I'd been and sure enough there went their tracks back down the canyon towards camp. I overhauled them about 45 minutes later and we turned around and made the drive again. The red steer got tired of waiting, crawled through the fence and came trotting down the road to meet us. He and his mom were pretty glad to see each other.
When I quit for the week I was still short about 35 cows, but I found a hole in the fence between us and the neighbors. Frank and I will go over there when they work and then we'll try to find whatever is left in Cottonwood. Job security.
Comments
Gail,
So nice to hear what you are working on these days. Your story reminded me of that great day we spent together tracking one of your cows. (Well, you were doing the tracking and Debbie and I were quiet observers). Your country is so different from NE Nevada and the day was a fine education in how you all approach cattlework. Good tracking skills are a necessity, for sure. I learned the hard way that you have to wear the right gear to survive all the trees and brush prevalent in northern Arizona.
Keep lining those cattle out.
Posted by: Meg Glaser | November 2, 2006 1:09 AM
Thanks for sharing your day. I saw you last year at Elko, and your songs/poems just put me right in the landscape. (including Mongolia!) Thank you. I bought your cd and started looking to see if you had another one out yet for Christmas. Sadly no, but found this "blog".
Very fun. Any chance you'll be in Denver in January?
Posted by: Terri | November 27, 2006 9:44 PM
Gail, You don't know me but I am a second generation cowhand born and raise in northern AZ. From Flagstaff onto the Navajo reservation. My grandparents were missionaries to the navjos and thats where I learned cowpunchen but mostly from the Babbit ranch where I was taught horse brakin and wranglin. I have ridin yer cottonwood canyon and staked out camps in it many atime as a youngster. Beautiful country it is. Couldn't make it as a ranch hand and turned ta truckdrivin,bought a small place in southern Idaho, My wife and I lost the little but prospering place.I missed the life so bad I went back ta my upbringin,and now I help the smaller ranches in the area that can't afford ta hire help. I figure thats what neighbors do.Now I have the best of both worlds. There is a Gatherin in Rogerson Id. every August of the ranch owners and ranchhands with a big bbq and dance at days end. Oh what a swell time it is and brings back the days of neighbors being the neighbors I remember as a youngin in Airzona. Hang tough my friend ta yer roots, and God Bless Ya! Jim
Posted by: Jim Newton | January 21, 2009 9:25 AM