Hail Storm
Hail storm over Squaw Mountain with rainbow
Home Ranch
photo by Pat O'Toole
Hail to the east
photo by Sharon O'Toole
Click here to return to the homepage of Western Folklife Center
Click here to return to the homepage of Western Folklife Center
« June 2009 | Main | August 2009 »
Hail storm over Squaw Mountain with rainbow
Home Ranch
photo by Pat O'Toole
Hail to the east
photo by Sharon O'Toole
Bull Pasture
photo by Pat O'Toole
We have completed our annual trek from the lambing grounds, north of Dixon, to our national forest grazing permits on the Routt and Medicine Bow National Forests (which is really one forest. It just has different names in Colorado and Wyoming.) It is a big piece of our overall 150 mile trail from our winter grounds on the Red Desert, begun in mid-April to our summer country, hard by the Continental Divide.
On the trail for the Routt Forest
photo by Lynn Cox
For about two weeks, we arise at 4:30 a.m. or so, in order to trail the sheep, and flag them on roads when necessary. On some days, we have six bands of sheep on the trail. After they separate on the Savery Stock Driveway, we are in two states, and have to have two camp movers in order to keep everyone moving along in an orderly manner. Lots of days, we have two herders with each bunch. For the first few days, the lambs want to run back, since their instinct is to return to the last place they 'sucked', i.e. saw their moms. We have two big hills to climb. The first is just as we leave the BLM for the Forest, and cross the "Boyer culverts" (formerly bridge) at Savery Creek. The second is the Battle Creek crossing from Stemp Springs to Upper Big Gulch. Both involve challenging a very steep hill at a very early hour. This is where we depend on our experienced ewes. They know the trail and embark on the climb, leading the younger and less experienced sheep behind them. We definitely want two herders with the bunch on these days, but it is the ewes who lead the way.
At the same time, we have two bunches of cows and calves to trail to the Forest--one to the Routt and one to the Medicine Bow. We ended up trailing cows and calves and ewes and lambs on the same day from the same pasture. Eamon and Megan left first with the cattle, since they move faster, and our daughter Meghan followed with Pepe's bunch of ewes and lambs.
Jose carrying a little lamb
Savery Stock Driveway
photo by Sharon O'Toole
Sheep in Government corrals
Savery Stock Driveway
photo by Sharon O'Toole
Antonio blade shearing a wooley ewe
Government corrals
photo by Sharon O'Toole
the long tailed lambs
Government corrals
Savery Stock Driveway
photo by Sharon O'Toole
The new face of Bahnay
Government corrals
photo by Sharon O'Toole
Calves ready to hit the trail
Bull Pasture
photo by Sharon O'Toole
Seamus, Siobhan and Meghan
on the trail, Routt National Forest
photo by Pat O'Toole
Seamus, ready to rope
On the trail
photo by Pat O'Toole
Edgar and Eamon
on Routt County 129
photo by Pat O'Toole
Bahnay Jussila
trailing sheep through the Three Forks Ranch
photo by Pat O'Toole
Pepe
Beetle-killed pines in Routt National Forest
photo by Lynn Cox
Dunkin and friends
on the trail to the Routt National Forest
photo by Sharon O'Toole
Rear-view trailing in the rain past decorative fences
on the trail to the Routt National Forest
photo by Sharon O'Toole
Calling Lima, Lima, Lima,
This cry sings out above
The baaing, surging woolies
Striving forward, push and shove.
The ding, ding, ding of tin dogs,
Bark and nip from flesh and blood,
Whoosh and whistle move sheep onward,
They flow, they ebb, they flood.
The corrals that stood in silence
Now ring out with urgent noise,
Prods a’tapping, dogs a’yapping,
“Lima, Lima,” comes a voice.
It’s a call beyond the clamor,
Heard above the coyotes yip,
Heard below the raven’s cawing,
Past the snapping crack of whip.
These men name their ancient city,
An echo from their home,
A ganado’s destination,
It rings out like a poem.
“Lima, Lima, Lima”
It sings out like a song,
Earth and sheep and sky
The home for which they long.
Antonio Basauldo, who calls "Lima, Lima' when moving sheep
Government Corrals, Medicine Bow National Forest
photo by Sharon O'Toole
While every day is different, day to day, the dates of our cycle are remarkedly similar, year to year. Mother Nature is our ultimate calendar, as we watch the sun swing from winter solstice to summer solstice, the grass burst forth in a sudden profusion, the chokecherry and serviceberry bushes throw out blossoms, daring the frost.
We are also ruled by the calendar, and by man-made mandates (now there’s a phrase) set by those whom we work with to make our business function. Thus, we must be off our lambing grounds in late June, and onto the trail for our National Forest allotments. Our on-date there is July 1, with some allowance for moving the sheep and cattle in an orderly manner and avoiding a mixup with neighbors headed for the same general country on the same general dates.
This year, we have been thrown off schedule by the steady (and mostly welcome) rains. Finally, the monsoon-like storms were replaced by periodic showers, which allowed us to get into the lambing grounds, set up panels and dock lambs. We had been discussing plans to dock the lambs somewhere along the trail, or even on the Forest, if necessary. Bear in mind that every day the lambs get bigger, and that our crew would be on the trail with their own bunches. The logistics of this alternative plan were formidable, so we were glad to see drier weather.
We usually keep each bunch separated into two or three smaller groups, which allows us to dock 300-500 lambs at a time. This makes for less stress on sheep and people alike. With the continuing rains, the herders were not able to keep the bunches smaller, so each docking was a marathon session of 1000 lambs or more. We had two Dinkum Dockers--a sort of conveyor belt which carries the lambs along as they are vaccinated, tailed, pine-tarred and paint branded. Pat came up with the idea of two simultaneous Dinkum Docker teams (red and blue), which made the process speedier.
Double Dinkum docking teams
Red team at work (blue team not pictured)
We did not make it through one docking when we didn’t have to shut down and hide out in or under the pickups while it poured for a few minutes. One day we had finished docking and were sorting some ewes when we actually had to quit and flee. The lightening rolled in and there were almost no seconds to count before we heard the boom of thunder.
Ewes against a stormy sky
Last summer, we had a young herder injured when lightning struck nearby. The lesson we learned from this experience was that, if you have a lightning injury, go to Peru. In the United States, lightning strike victims are treated for their gross injuries and left to recover, or not, from the neurological damage on their own. Our Peruvian employees tell us that lightning injuries are common on the Altiplano, and they have a whole body of folk medicine to treat the victims. Our herder, Vladimir, saw the doctor several times. He wanted to go home and his family wanted him home, so he returned to Peru about three weeks after the strike and only three months after he had come to the U.S. to work. This spring, he returned to work for us, remarkedly recovered.
We have a good docking crew this year. We have good herders, most of our family members, and a couple of young women who are putting in the long days to get this job done.
Sasha and Bahnay
Meghan and Maeve brought lunch
Maeve, Pepe and Antonio at lunch
Mothering up
Brander ready to go
Sasha on Dutch
photos by Sharon O'Toole
The opinions expressed in the Western Folklife Center's Deep West online journals are those of the online journal participants and not the Western Folklife Center. The Western Folklife Center does not moderate these journals and as such does not guarantee the veracity, reliability or completeness of any information provided in the journals or in any hyperlink appearing within them.
