Robin Boies

October and November were busy with cattle work. Sorting the cows, pulling the old or cull cows that didn’t raise a calf, had health problems or udder problems. NO pun intended. The cows get sorted into
age groups, and processed through the chute to take care of any health related problems; at the same time we immunize this years calves. There is more sorting, splitting the cows and calves to wean, all resulting in sore shoulders from chute work, muddy cold feet and wet gloves. All this is in preparation to hunker down for winter and feed hay every day.

Today though is a reprieve from the weather and the work. It is a beautiful clear warm winter day. To take advantage of the weather we went after a group of colts that were up country and needed to come home. We still have a horse permit which allows us to run a portion of our horses out on the BLM.

After the colts were run in to the Dry Creek corral, I decided to stay and wait while Steve and Sam hauled the saddle horses home and came back for the load of colts. After protests of “What if,” I convinced them I would not freeze to death or fall prey to a mountain lion. What they didn’t know is that I had a thermos of coffee and a few goodies packed with my camera and notebook. What a great day to be away and by my self, away from phone, computer, balance sheet, and cook stove.

Either curious or hungry, just like a bunch of teenage boys.

I
The last few years have been pretty chaotic. Our son Nate was in Iraq for a year, shortly after his return to the states, my mother had a debilitating stroke and after a solid year of traveling through hospitals, rehab facilities and nursing homes our youngest son graduated from high school and we moved home to the ranch full time, selling the house in town. This was followed by another year with more time spent away from the ranch negotiating the labyrinth of the Medicare system and trying to make things as good as they could be.

It hasn’t been until this fall that I’ve felt a settling down and an awareness that the pace has slackened. Instead of a full-extended trot out in the morning because I know there won’t be enough daylight, it is beginning to feel more like a Western Pleasure shuffle, slow, head down, the sl-o-o-o-w trot.

My husband Steve has been generous and intuitive about this. After summer cooking, he took over preparing breakfast at the cookhouse. Steve, Sam our son, and Dan, one of the ranch hands, take turns with the cooking. This seems like quite a miracle and how liberating for them, or so I encourage.

Looking east down the Dry Creek drainage.