Just another day

Winter Meadows and the Case of the Hidden Calf

Posted on by onlyinastauffworld

This morning I grabbed my Carhart beanie and pulled it down tight over my ears. I scraped the frost off the 4 wheeler seat and turned it on. Out of the yard I went humming along begging for that magical count. The sun had been out for about an hour and was already turning the heavy frost to drops of dew. The meadows looked like a million diamonds shimmering in the sun. It was so pretty. I would have probably sat longer and watched till they all melted away, but, I was missing one cow.

I went back through the cows to recount. Let’s be honest, I miss count every time. It happens. I counted again, and then another… yep, missing one.. damnit.. Let the search party begin. Since I was at the east end of the pasture, I started there first. Zoomed past the water tank, through the olive trees and popped over the bank. A black back peaked out from the over grown bushes. AHA.. The missing had been found. Now, these bushes are unruly. They are tall, tough and thick. I tried to weave in between them to get closer to my prize. No luck, I had to redo my route. I get closer, still not close enough. I decided to just hop off the 4 wheeler and sneak over closer to her. I turned off the 4 wheeler and looked up at her. She had sharp eyes on me. I took a few steps towards her and then she took a few steps towards me. I wrinkled my face a little and said, “Yo, momma, I just need your tag number”. She decided the two step was in order and took two more steps my way. I got the picture colored in colorful colors as she threw her head to the side and blew a little snot. I high stepped over 4 foot bushes back to my 4 wheeler. As I watched her get closer, she stopped and stared square at me. I gasped, “SON OF A BITCH! #12). I started the 4 wheeler back up in a heartbeat and started backing up. She turned and went back to pacing.

#12… ga damn.. I couldn’t tell The Stauff yet. I never tell him when they are starting to calve as he gets stressed and nervous not being here. I just let the story play out and recap the saga to him later, once dust has settled. I have learned over the years, it makes life easier. I looked at my watch, 6:30 AM. I thought about my day and my meetings. I settled on 10:30 would be the time I would sneak out and get an update.

I watched the clock slowly tick by. Meetings drug on like watching molasses drip. Finally my window of opportunity hit. I grabbed my Carhart beanie and away I went rumbling across the pasture, east side being my destination. I get there, no #12. I stand up on the seat of the 4 wheeler, still no black back to be found. “Well”, I thought, maybe I pissed her off and she went somewhere else since I found her spot. Shit happens, but she surely didn’t go far. I buzzed up one side of the creek, then the other. A slow push through the taller bushes and then I saw a spot of black. “AHA”, I said. I quick reverse and I was picking my path. She was laying down. I prayed on my trek that she wasn’t having issues and that all would be well.

Once I got close, she whipped her head my way and got up. She stands up and lets out a long and low moooo. I couldn’t see a baby anywhere. I thought to myself, I will legit have a breakdown if that calf is hanging out of her. I tried to ‘haw’ her to get her to move. She had no issues moving and then she swung her ass towards me.. no calf. praise God himself. I grabbed reverse and moved the 4 wheeler so I could get a better view. I decided it wasn’t in my best interest to get off and wander too far on foot. I positioned myself closer on the other side of her. Sure as hell, a baby calf was beside her trying his best to stand. I laughed and said, “well look at the trickster, you finally have a baby”. I snapped my picture and made damn sure the tag clearly showed #12.

I get home and text The Stauff.

I say, “I finally found #12’s calf” and I sent the picture.

Nothing more.

A few hours later he says, “Man, so we weren’t crazy after all. She did have one”.


I paused and said, “yea, she hid it good, it was with her all the time, except it was inside her. She just calved about 2 hours ago”.

His only come back, “I would have swore she had a calf with her when I was tagging those other calves”.

So, this weekend The Stauff can legit tag #12’s calf. Hopefully motherhood will have her calmed and settled a little bit when that point comes. Case solved.

From diamonds in the meadow to the pot of gold in the bushes. On to the next one..

Come again?

Posted on by onlyinastauffworld

I wear a lot of hats. I have the real job that helps pay the bills, that seems like I juggle about 5 hats in itself. I have one that takes care of the ranch. I have one that takes care of Paleo. I have a few others that fill in the time during the week. Only 1 pays and they are all brought on by yours truly. Purely not complaining, just saying, the kid is busy. Someone asked me today what I will do on my time off. “Time off”.. hmm novel concept, but I don’t really have time off, I have a time where I change hats. Sadly, it just seems like I just keep adding to the plate. Writing is my only escape from it all and at times even it feels like a job. I have to write stuff out or it just sits in my brain, swirling, until it projects into my Mac. Even with all my jobs, I am fiercely protective of all of them. Which leads me to today…

I have been busy booking stays at the lodge for the past few months. Trying to get my niche figured out for Paleo. Breathing new life into an old concept, or maybe just redefining the original concept. Either way working every angle. I have molded it, dreamt it, and prayed on it for a while. I had a guy call about a month ago to come stay. I am going to refer to him as “Cat”, cause he was some type of cat and I want to keep this cleaner than the name I really want to call him. Cat texted me to reserve the lodge in July for a week and wanting to talk. I at first was like, “cool, this is getting SO exciting”. I immediately texted back and said, “Yes, would be happy to talk about Paleo”. Then he ghosted me until Easter Sunday. He texts, “Can we talk today?”. I raised an eyebrow and thought, “Pal… My family is here and we are all enjoying each other, so I am going to say I didn’t see the text. You can wait till tomorrow”. Which I did. I texted him the next day and said, “Hey, I apologize I didn’t visit with you yesterday, being it was Easter, my family and I were doing some stuff. Available today”, and I gave him a handful of times to reach out. He went back and forth on the time and we finally settled on a time.

He called me a few minutes after the time. It is fine, whatever. He starts out with explaining what is going on in his life. I am blankly staring at my wall wondering WTH I was doing. He then tells me the dates he is coming.

I interjected, “What are you going to be doing?”.

He stopped like I had just asked for his blood type.

He said, “well, digging dinosaurs”.

I thought, “Come again?”.

I said, “oh, interesting, where are you digging at?”.

He scoffed at me and said, “well at your ranch! Don’t you have things to dig?”.

I said, “actually no, we don’t.”

You could tell he was getting edgy, but I was as well.

He said, “well, don’t you have a microsite?”.

I said, “yea, but you are not going to sit on it for week. That is just a spot to go and look and sit for maybe an hour and move on”.

He stammered. “Well, what about the stuff we find? Can we keep it?”.

My blood pressure was starting to spike. I thought, “Pal, we have a website that covers all of this. Obviously you didn’t check it out”. I was taken aback thinking, he isn’t even going to ask what we offer? He is just telling me what he is going to do?

I said, “well, if you are on private land owned by us, it is our property, so, no, you get what we allow”.

Then he proceeded to complain about my price to stay at the lodge.

I stood firm and at this point I was hoping he was getting the vibe that this might not be the place to go.

He ended the conversation with, “I will have to talk to the rest of my group and get back to you”.

“Perfect”, I said. I thought, “there ain’t no way in hell, that boy is calling back”.

Sure enough, he ghosted me, until yesterday.

Two weeks had passed since our conversation. He texts completely out of the blue. He had talked to most of the group and they were good. He needed our address and wondered how to put down a deposit. I blankly stared at the phone. I drew in a long deep breathe, “is this cat for real?”. He literally tells me what he is going to do on our ranch, has no plan while he is here and then thinks he can ghost me?”. I immediately shot back with, “so your group is good to have nothing to dig on? Your group is good to not stay on the microsite?”. I waited…. and I waited. I got grumpier.. I kept rolling it in my brain, “Who does this cat think he is?”. I continued to spin it around in my brain for a day, still nothing back from him.

I woke up this AM at my witching hour of 3 AM. Front and center in my brain was this cat. I tried getting back to sleep, I tossed and turned and tossed some more. I got up, got a drink of water, still rolling in my brain what all he had said to me and his actions afterwards. Daylight finally broke and I saw rays of sun gripping the landscape waking it up. I got my warm clothes on to go run around the cows to check for new calves. There was a thick layer of frost on everything. A heavy bank of fog was slowly fading into the creek channel. I jumped on my 4 wheeler and buzzed through the cows, grabbing my magical number. (#12 is still standing strong watching me, and me watching her). I snaked up onto a tall hill where some yearlings were so I could get a count on the cows below. I shut off the 4 wheeler and started counting. The yearlings all wandered up to me and had their heads right next to me. I quit counting and looked at the sweet babies next to me. Wide eyes with long eye lashes studying me. Were they probably looking for a treat? Yes, most likely, but they sure loved on me for a bit. I looked around me at the beauty of the morning. The frost slowly melting into the thirsty earth. The fog bank had almost all disappeared. The blues and yellows of the early morning made me wish for the crayon box God himself gets to use. It was still, it was peaceful and it made me understand my cat.

Looking at those cows and the land made be realize the depth of a being the 4th generation on a family ranch. I thought about my Great Grandmother roaming the same ground as I did. I looked at the yearlings beside me. I said, “What do you think Great Grandma would do with this cat? Would she turn Great Grandpa loose on him?”. I laughed as I turned my head and I locked eyes with one yearling. I quickly looked away and then slowly looked back at her. She was staring right at me. I looked right into her shimmering eyes. Goofy, I know, but it was like that damn yearling looked right into my heart. I say that, cause everything became clear about my cat at that point. I looked around the ranch and said, “yea, it is a privilege to be here not a right”. I got another quick count on the cows and zoomed back to the house. I grabbed my phone and sent a text back to the cat, “I feel like our visions are not the same, thus I am canceling your time at the lodge. I wish you the best of luck in finding a new place to dig”. I threw the phone to my bed beside my 2 hounds and took a long hot shower. Question of the day, did he ever respond? Nope…

Protective? Yes, absolutely. I had a neighbor once that said her mother in law told her when she moved out here that she lived in a palace upon a kingdom and to never forget it. I get that. Is our place a destination? Nope. Is there lush green meadows everywhere? Double nope. Is it a place that holds me? Yep. Is it a place I know like the back of my hand? Yep. Do I make 3 generations proud knowing that I am protecting the ranch? The same one that they busted their asses to keep? Gosh, I pray that I do, cause it crosses my mind a lot. I love this hat that I wear, it is probably my favorite. A privilege, not a right. I think that is my new slogan to folks wanting to sneak a peak at my way life. Maybe I should make some T-shirts with that saying on them for the shop at the lodge. Maybe I will send that cat one… LOL.

Understanding Calving: A Rancher’s Journey

Posted on by onlyinastauffworld

Ahh April.. April on the ranch means one thing to me.. Calving season is upon us. Will we get snow one day and 80 degree weather the next? High possibility. Will the heifers know what to do with their new bundle of joy? We hope so. Will I end of cussing one, or multiples telling them how GA DAMN stupid they are.. High probability. But, at the end of the day, will I thank God for helping me get through the day? Every day.

Since The Stauff works away from the ranch during the week, I am head chief. Scary, trust me, I know. My nerves that attach to my stomach get uneasy about February just thinking about the upcoming season. Steady breathing into a paper sack and thinking that indeed the day we turn the bull out with the cows will be devine. Just a few months of WTF was that, sleepless nights, frozen hands, tears (always is) and who knows what else. When The Stauff gets home, he runs through his calving book and matches it up to my notes from week. I guarantee he does this when I text what number has calved during the week, but, I think it makes him feel good knowing we are on the same page. He likes to know which cow calved on what day, etc. He is in charge of tagging the calves when he arrives on the homestead. He has the 4 wheeler tricked out with a hook mounted on it, so when the time arises, he is locked and loaded. He usually leaves bright and early in the morning while I am “looking” like I am sleeping. Sometimes I really am and he scares the shit out of me when he comes tromping back in. I always give him the “Well? Anything new? Did you get your calves tagged?”. Then he gives me the low down. This last week I sent him verification the #12 calved. I started carrying my phone with me and I would just grab a picture of the new momma and send to him. Mainly, so his questions of “is the calf up? the mother ok? She cleaned off?” are all answered in one quick pic. I saw her up against a hill as some other cows wandered past her. As I pulled up on the 4 wheeler I saw a little black head bobbing behind her. “Shit” I said, “you calved”. Calf was up and sucking, mother was fine, but a little pissed I was lingering snapping pictures. I say to myself, “12 right?” She was too busy tending to her calf to give me a portrait picture. She finally swung her head up and I honestly thought she was coming over to “visit” with me. I snapped the picture and told her to ease up, I would leave. I drove off pondering, “that was a 12 right?”. I stopped, zoomed in on the picture and was like “Hmm, has to be”. I journey on counting out my magical number and making sure no one had anything suspicious hanging out of their back side.

I get home and I do my daily check in with The Stauff. I send him the picture and caption it with, “You have another to tag this weekend”. He responded back with, “#12?” I was like “Ok, he agrees”. I type back, “indeed. She was a little fiesty. Reminds me of #11. Good mother, but damn, don’t get in between them”. He types back, “great”. I made my notation in my little book and went about my day.

Friday evening comes and The Stauff rolls into the house. He grabs the sack of ear tags and starts writing out his numbers he needs to go get them tagged. I tell him, “well, for sure #11, #12 and Big Bessie will have a target on your ass as soon as they see you”. He says, “I know, I will see what I can get done.

He comes back and says, “Well, I got #11 and #01. I was thankful I had the 4 wheeler between me and Big Bessie though. She was blowing steam onto the 4 wheeler seat looking over it at seeing what I was doing to her calf. I couldn’t find #12 though. She must have it hid out”. I was impressed. The man is actually so good at that. I don’t know why I even wonder if he could get them tagged.

We check cows 3 to 4 times a day. We just run through them, get a head count, and make sure all is well on the prairie. Every time The Stauff would go out, he would come back and say, “No luck. She just won’t bring her calf out. But she has no care in the world; she just watches me as I drive around.” This went on Friday night, all day Saturday, and all day Sunday. Sunday morning, after his early morning run, he comes back and asks, “Are you sure she calved?” I say, “Dude, the picture looks like #12, doesn’t it?” He grins and says, “I am just teasing; I am pretty sure I saw her walking off with a calf Friday night when I got home anyway.” Later that afternoon, when he was getting ready to leave, he says, “Maybe you can find her damn calf this week. Don’t worry about tagging it; we can always tag it when we brand.” I took the comment as a challenge. “Aye Aye, Captain,” I said, grinning. After he left, I went on my mission. I found #12 standing with the other new mommas, and legit, there was no calf nearby. I drove around the sagebrush watching her, waiting for her to get nervous and come grab her calf and take off… Nothing happened. She played it cool as a cucumber. Monday comes, and again, I find #12 and start to scan the area for a ball of black fur. Nothing… I check again at noon and again that night. Worry came over me, and I thought, “God damn, what if something happened to her calf? What if it died?” The rational part of me said, “If that calf died, she would be standing right beside it, bellowing to it, and I would cry.” I took a deep breath, admitted defeat, and went home. I got home and pulled up the picture again. It had to be a #12. As I zoomed in, doubt crossed my mind, and I gasped, “Shit, is that a #11?” I closed my eyes and dialed up The Stauff. He was like, “Yessss.” I said, “Hey, so do you think #12 really calved?” He sat there for a moment and said, “You said it was #12.” I said, “I said no such thing. I sent you a picture, and you asked if it was #12. I merely agreed. Doesn’t that picture look like a #12?” He said, “Blow it up.” I blew it up, and it started to blur more. I let out a big sigh and said, “Dude, I don’t know. Maybe it was #11. I guess we will see if she calves again.” Then I burst out laughing. He didn’t see the humor that I saw, but it was funny. Just thinking of The Stauff hunting this ghost calf, cursing his mother for hiding it out all weekend, and then realizing that she might be hiding it in her stomach still. It was too much.

Last night when I made my nightly rounds I had predicted that #04 was going to calve by morning. She had that far away look in her eye and she was looking for some alone time. This AM when I shot around the cows I went to the area I had last saw #04 first. Sure enough, a new baby lay beside her. I drove over to her and walked down close. I made damn sure I had the number. #04, check, baby, check, 4.28.26, check. I went about my business finding the other ladies. All accounted for and I headed back to the house to warm up. I texted The Stauff, #04 calved. I forgot my phone, so I didn’t have hard proof, but I thought I had hard proof with #12 or #11 and look where I am today. He texted back, “What an eye!”. It could have been because I was cold, or maybe because it was early, but I didn’t see the humor that he had found. Then when I didn’t text back, he realized that I must not have saw the humor either, and he changed the subject to the weather.

So, here we sit. I circled #12 tonight as she was out enjoying the sun and munching on grass. I stopped and we chatted. “well, well, did you calve or not old girl?”. She kept staring at me. I said “Am I losing my mind?”. She stopped chewing. I laughed and said “I take that as a yes”. Stay tuned to see. Will she calve or has she already calved, THAT is the question and with the prices right now, that is about a $1500.00 question. Plus side.. We are over half done with them.. then we have to brand..HAHAHAHAHA..

Person putting Crunchy Oats cereal box into shopping cart in a supermarket aisle

Life Lessons from Buying Cereal

Posted on by onlyinastauffworld

I had to take a day off of work to go work my other job. I had to run to Rapid to get stuff for the lodge to get ready for folks to stay.. I was lucky enough to catch lunch with J and then went about gathering, pondering and dreaming. The last stop, Walmart.. I was about drained of energy and had a headache that was starting to pound. I strolled the isles planning things out in my head when I turned down the cereal aisle. In the aisle was a dad and his son, whom I would guess to be 8 or so. As I wheeled my creeky cart toward them, I caught their conversation. Dad, “hey, do you want to pick out some cereal?”. Boy, “yea!”. Dad, “here is some that has dinosaurs in it it. Would you like those?”. Now, at this point I almost looked at what he was pointing out and grabbed a box. I laughed to myself thinking of having dinosaur cereal at the lodge. Anyway….

Boy, “no, oh WAIT! These.. I love these”.

Dad, “Applejacks? I have never seen you eat those before”.

Boy, ” I have too, they are the best”. Dad, “are you sure?”.

Boy, “yep, that is the one I want”.

I was smiling at their conversation as I whispered a “excuse me” as I swerved through them. As I past them, my brain replayed a million scenes of the same conversation with my hooligans as they were growing up. As my brain finished the memory lane it looked at my heart sitting there all swelled up. My brain asked my heart what was wrong. My heart said, “gosh, it is hard to believe those days are over. All in the past.”. And then just like that my heart broke just a little. I looked down and some big ole drops fell from my eyes and splashed to the floor by my feet. I turned to face this “fascinating” selection of granola. I pushed my glasses into my hair and wiped the tears away as my brain whispered, “you two, pull your shit together, tears another time, another place”. And, so we did. I managed to squeeze some air back into my lungs that at some point had deflated and went on about looking at my list.

The creek of the rusty wheels on the cart was the only sound my ears could hear. I don’t know if it was my headache, the tide wasnt right or it just caught me just right, but one thing is true. If you have kids or friends or loved ones, or pets, do me a favor and love on them a little. Time is indeed a thief and you won’t understand that, until that time is gone. Buy the cereal. Plus, I think this world needs a little more happiness and lovin.. oh….side note…the kiddo got his Apple Jack’s and I got a random sack of protein strawberry granola.. lol..

😉
🫣
😂

The Piano that Sealed the Deal

Posted on by onlyinastauffworld

She was a teacher who moved from Omaha to the wilds of Wyoming in the early 1900s, leaving her family behind to embark on a new life in the West. The newest school teacher in the area sparked intrigue, particularly capturing the attention of two dusty cowboys who worked for a large local cattle company. Introduced as Miss Gieseleman, or Helen to those close to her, she began to dream of her own land and homestead. As days turned into months, the two cowboys continued to visit, offering their assistance. Eventually, one cowboy proposed, unaware that the other had feelings for her as well. Unsure of whom to choose, Helen devised a plan: she declared that her heart desired a piano, promising to marry whichever cowboy could deliver one to her school. Charles Zerbst stepped up to the challenge and delivered a beautiful piano. Grateful, Helen took his hand in marriage. She signed her name to her first homestead paperwork on June 3, 1909, and just six days later, Charles and Helen were married in Omaha. They would bring three children into the world—a girl and two boys—believing they had forever together, but ultimately, their time was limited to just 17 years.

They built a vast ranch together, where Helen continued to teach. Every year, she would take their three children with her to school, where she dedicated herself throughout the academic year. Once the school year concluded, she would return to the ranch with her family in tow. Horses, cattle, and sheep formed the backbone of the ranch, and selling horses to the cavalry stations helped to establish their trusted name.

Nestled in a beautiful valley, the ranch was graced by a lazy creek that meandered through the landscape. Lush meadows filled with tall grass provided ample grazing for the livestock, and a quaint two-room cabin housed the family of five—creating what many would consider a perfect life. However, tragedy struck when Helen was just 39 years old. Her oldest son, William, was left to help lay his mother to rest. At just 16, he had completed the eighth grade and was already working alongside his father. As they managed the ranch together, he also took on the responsibility of raising his younger siblings.

Helen’s untimely death marked the beginning of a series of heart-wrenching tragedies that would befall the ranch. Over the course of its 117-year history, the ranch has been a source of both profound joy and deep sorrow.

At the end of the day, as I gaze around the familiar meadows they once roamed, I watch the sun rise over the same hills and sink down into the horizon they cherished. Though the horses and sheep are long gone, the brand first pressed onto a calf endures to this day. The worry and wonder of maintaining the ranch and building upon its legacy persist, four generations later. I would do anything to keep the ranch and their dream alive. As I gaze at their wedding picture taken on that June 9th in 1909, I notice the dimple in my son’s chin and the curls of my daughter’s hair; I see echoes of five generations reflected in my own children. I remember the locket that Great Grandma lost, and how Dad found it one day while riding, the same one I have safely locked away.

So I dust off the dust and adjust my hat, casting off the burdens that weigh me down. I come from a long line of strength, a resilience forged in the moments spent on my knees, praying for help, a sign, or just a much-needed break from the trials that life so often thrusts upon us. Each whisper of hope echoes through my lineage, reminding me that even in the darkest times, we rise, fueled by unwavering faith and an unbreakable spirit that has been passed down through generations. It is this legacy of perseverance that lights my path, guiding me through storms and shadowy corners, teaching me that the essence of my ancestors lives on in me, urging me to keep pushing forward, to embrace the challenges that come my way, and to never lose sight of the dream that fuels me to fight for a better tomorrow.

And to think, it all started with a piano. Maybe I should learn how to play one.

that’s what I do…

Posted on by onlyinastauffworld

Life has been tough… hard… and boring… No raccoons and the kids are all out of the nest living their best life. Anxiety, work, and stress have taken the front seat. Summer came in long and dark even though the sun is shining bright. Winter dreams of a vacation dashed as life stepped in and said, “not now kid”. I have been away more days from the ranch than I’d like to say. Just life, sometimes it steals the fun and the spark right out of your soul. You can’t say anything, cause honestly, who wants to listen to a downer? Then you have those uber-positive folks that exist, who, if they heard you utter the negative, they would try to sweep you up and explain all of the great things you have going in your life… “You are still alive”, “Every day is a gift”, “It will get better”, “You are just stuck in a groove”. To them, yes, you are correct, I am each and every one. I know that. But, sometimes life gets dark and starts closing in on you.

One thing that has been ‘hummin is Paleo Park tours. Folks from all over the world have been dropping emails, texting and calling, looking to see if they can find their own 67 million year old treasure. Tours ground me. I get to tell stories of yesterdays. Even if those yesterdays were 20 years ago, 40 years ago or 120 years ago, I get to forget my world for 2 hours and dive back into happier days. Paleo was my Dad’s dream. Years and years of dragging dinosaurs bones into the house and piling them into boxes and buckets had stretched the space in the house. Upon finding Kelsey, the Triceratops, Dad’s dream started to become reality. He wanted a lodge that would house all of our dinosaurs that we found. A place where scientist, scholars and kids could come find dinosaurs. A place in the fall could turn into a hunting camp. Where tall tales, laughter and a little beer could be shared. So, all be damn if he didn’t build it. But, we know how the story ended. Dad died in the middle of building it. Then, I took the reins and put my brand to Paleo Park. It connects me to Dad.

Dad always loved dinosaurs. Why not? Dinosaurs are something we have always had. From the earliest of days of 1906 to present day. 5 generations have dug dinosaurs on the ranch and not one of us are “professionals” so to speak. Even though none of us are “professionals”, there has been some wild stuff taken off the ranch and a few changes of paleo history made in the process. Dad loved to tell stories of the ranch and show everyone the dinosaur bones we had. He especially loved to see the look on little kids faces when it clicked that they were the first human to ever touch a 67 millin year old bone. That is what Paleo Park was meant for. I made up the term, “Where your imagination meets reality” to describe Paleo Park and it really is true. Do people really know about us? No. Do the locals come by and check us out? No. It is all good, cause the ones who do want to know about us, come. Since I have to have a real job to help pay bills, tours are pushed to the weekends. For a change, the weekends have been busy this summer.

My tour a few weeks ago had a family from Germany visit us. A family of four. Mom, Dad and 2 adorable little kids. The kids were little, I would put them around 6 and 8. The kids didn’t understand English, but the parents would tell them of all my ramblings. I skipped the history of the ranch on this one. The looks on their face told me they wanted to go find some dinosaur bones. We headed out, swapping stories of our two worlds. I laughed and apologized for our country as they all must laugh at the state of our country anymore. The Dad laughed and said for sure not as they loved the good ole USA and to be honest Germany is just a mess. We went to the tracks and I watched them get quite and stare as I explained how a T-Rex, Hadrosaur, crocodile, Zerbsti and a handfull of other dinosuars walked through this one spot within 2 hours of each other. I rolled my hand over the Zerbsti and I talked about how it is the only one in the world and named after my family. The parents were in the awe and the kids were chomping to go find a dinosaur bone. So I said, “let’s go find some dinosaur bones”. That they figured out and excitement shot across their faces.

We went to the microsite, or as we call it, the beach. I explained what it looked like in the day, or my interpretation of what it all looked like. We all zoned in and started to pluck ancient bones out of the earth. The first human to roll it in their hands and give it a gander. The Mom was sitting next to me and we were talking about bones that were around us. She started to trace her fingers over a bone in the ground. I knew what it was as she started to brush the dirt off of it. She asked me what it was. I smiled and said “it is frill, the round part around a Triceratops head”. She jumped up, squeeled and danced around. It made me happy. As she was showing her find to her family, I was sifting through the hole that the bone had left. I saw a tip of something I knew all too well what was about to pop out of the dirt. I let out a “ohhh”.. The mom said, “What?”. I told her, “get Leo”. She hollered at Leo and he came up. She explained to him that I had found something and I wanted to show him. I took my hand away and there sat a beautiful Nanotyrannus tooth. He grabbed it like he was grabbing a golden nugget. He asked her what it was and she told him and he sat there and stared at it. The rest of the family came over and they carefully tucked it into a speciman sack that they had brought along. The mom later found a tip of a T-Rex tooth which was pretty cool.

When we got back from the tour my little pal Leo was digging through his treasures and looking them all over. He looked over at me and asked his mom where his tooth was. She pulled it out and he again sat it into his little hand looking at it. I wondered what he was thinking about. He looked back at me watching him and smiled at me. He asked his mom to help him take off his long sleeve shirt. Under his long sleeve, he had a tshirt that had cartoon dinosaurs all over it. He again smiled at me and pointed to his shirt. I came over and started poking at all the dinosuars on his belly and talking and laughing about each one. Giggles surrounded us as we sat there talking dino’s and knowing neither one of us knew what the hell we were saying. Through his laughter, he told his mom something. His Mom looked at me and said, “Leo wants me to tell you that he is very happy”. That little 6 year old soul took my breathe away. Here we were, one 6 and one let’s just say, old, didn’t understand what each other was saying, but one simple dinosaur tooth brought us both to the same playing field. That moment was stamped into my brain. A good day. The reason why Dad wanted to do this brought front and center to my brain yet again.

The following tour brought in some grand parents that brought their grand kids to try their luck. I started my little speech that I have legit given 100’s of times before. So many times, that it just starts to roll out like a record. I got to the part of Dad wanting to build Paleo and I could feel my voice was going to crack. I tried to take a deep breathe to stop the lump that was starting to form in my throat. It was no use. My voiced cracked and in an instant a few hot tears leaked out of my eyes. I was surprised at myself as usually I whip right through it. Not today. I couldn’t finish my speech, I took a deep breathe, aplogized for my break and asked the kids who was ready to go find bones. Then we went on down the dusty rutted road. We got to the microsite and I sat down on the ground to help them start finding things. As I was looking at the ground I saw something move out of my eye. A perfect gray feather that looked exactly like the feathers tattooed on my arm came floating by. I grabbed it and popped it into my pocket. When I got home, I went to look at the feather. Wouldn’t you know, the feather was gone, just a memory existed.

Even though the bumps, canyons, valleys of life have etched across my life this year, doesn’t mean all is lost. I get these little glimpses of light that show me it is all ok. Maybe it is because tomorrow would have been Dad’s birthday or maybe it was a little kid named Leo who helped me remember why I do what I do. Did I mention my Dad’s name was Leonard? Maybe, just maybe, Dad really isn’t gone, just always around laying stuff in front of my face to pull my ass up and show me that there is a reason for everything. I mean, he got me to write it. Happy early birthday to the man who gave me the art of story telling, the fight in my belly and the hazel in my eyes.

Colder than a witches t….

Posted on by onlyinastauffworld

Winter… in Wyoming.. can suck at times. It also blows… more ways than one. This past week, it blew.. Growing up on the ranch during times like this there were always colorful words that would float through the house. Famous sayings that were oftern repeated, “Colder than a witches tit” or “Cold enough to freeze the balls on a brass monkey”. They all still linger in my brain when the temperatures start to drain below the minus mark. This past week.. Where do I start? I guess it all started with the weather app that said dangerous weather coming.

The Stauff brought in lots of wood for me and put out extra mineral for the cows before he left for the week for his job. I grabbed the reins of the ranch and nodded to him that all would be just fine. The temperatures started to fall a little at a time. The snow would blow in, the wind would gently blow and then it was like mother nature dropped her drawers and let it all hang out. Temperatures plummeted and the wind screamed and I froze. My days were filled with finding and feeding cows and then chopping/chipping/pitching ice out of the stock tank.

The first day, I made sure our feeding pickup, “Artie”, was plugged in and ready for action. Artie has a cold block and if it ain’t warmed up, he isn’t starting. I whispered a few prayers before I cranked it over and luckily it fired up. I went and loaded hay while the snowflakes tossed around in the sky. I had about 3 layers on to battle back the wind, a head/face hood and stocking cap. Hay was loaded, cows were spotted and away I went. I usually linger amongst the cows and hand feed some cake and talk to each one. Today, they just got hay. Sorry girls, we will save that shit for another warmer day. Hay fed, I rumble across the pasture to the water tank. An 8 foot tank full of ice. “Ah Frogs”, I mumbled as I pulled up to a fresh coat of snow laying on about 3 inches of ice. I grabbed the ax, the pitch fork and our pooper scooper to clean out the slush. I throw the ax into the ice, no water.. I cursed a trail of words. I threw the ax again. Water comes spurting out of the thin hole. With one hole started, I start whittling on the rest. Soon the whole tank looked like a pile of jigsaw puzzle pieces. I grabbed the pitchfork and started to clean it out. The skin around my eyes that the wind was beating on was starting to sting. I finished with the pooper scooper cause as Grandpa would say, “the tank isn’t clean if there is still ice in it”. Something my 50 year old brain repeats to itself everytime I pitch a tank out. Chores all done, I checked all the building to make sure they still had heat and there was nothing spraying water. “Ahh” I said, as I jumped back in Artie, “everything is good, The Stauff will be home tomorrow, thankfully, to help through this cold”.

The next day arrived colder and windier.. It also arrived with a phone call from The Stauff saying he just got a call that he would have to work the weekend. My smile turned upside down. “EHH?” I closed my eyes. Nothing he can do, completely out of his hands. I looked around the house and listened to the wind catch another gear that made the house moan a little. I smiled and said, “no worries, I can take care of this side”. Which I knew I could, but.. there is always that but. I bundled up this day with 4 layers. The air temp was -16 and I have no idea what the wind temp was at.. But it was freaking cold. I unplugged Artie and gave him a pep talk to start. I actually begged him to start. He came through and turned over. He was stiff and didn’t want to run. I felt for him and let him warm up a bit before I kicked in the 4×4 and headed to the hay pile. I glanced over across the creek and spied the cows penned up against a big cut bank that protected them from the wind. Ahh, good ole girls, now just stay there. I started peeling off the hay and pitching it on the bed of Artie. I would throw it on and the wind would blow it off. I would pictch it back up and push it to the front of the cab. It seemed like an eternity that I piled up hay. I glance back at the cows. Them unpatient bastards couldn’t wait.. a few started to trail out to me.. “FRICK”, I said.. I started to throw hay on alot quicker.. I get what I needed and hauled ass out before the rest of them were out in the elements. I gathered them all back up and tucked them back into the cut bank and fed them heavily. No cake again today girls. Love on that hay a little bit. By this time my finger tips are numb. I jump into Artie and pull off my gloves. I dive them under my layers to warm up. I drive back to the water tank. I am wiping the ice that was one my eyelids that is now melting and dripping down my face staring at the water tank. I get the usual tools out and line them up against Artie. I throw the ax, no water. I throw again, no water. I throw a third time, no water. I leaned back and rolled a few cuss words. I hit if the fourth time.. aha.. water comes poking out. I chopped and chopped and chopped some more. I would take a break and pitch ice.. This ice was about 6 inches or so deep. The float is froze and after looking it over I noticed ice on the bottom of the float right over the float arm. I thought to myself, “If I break that float The Stauff will hang me”. I pondered it. The Stauff had told me that morning that if the ice was too thick to only chop half and he would help when he got home. Well he got his wish. I was froze and couldn’t do it anymore. I abandoned my job and went home to get warm. I got home and looked in the mirror at my face. A red ring showed exactly where the ice had been building on my face. I closed my eyes and apologized to my Grandpa, I had failed. I confessed my sins to The Stauff who felt horrible that he couldn’t be there to help me. He told me that it wasn’t a big deal and he would help me when he got home, whenever that would be.

The 3rd day. The wind ceased to my amazement and the sun came out. It was a glorious -22. Artie started fine, hay was loaded, cows were out and about milling around. Still no cake. I didn’t bring a shovel to clear a path for that. I go back down to my water tank project. The Stauff had built me a heater for the water tank a few years back. I had pondered it all night and I came prepared. I had lighter fluid, paper, card board, a bucket of coal, an arm full of wood, kindling and a propane torch. I was putting heat to the tank. With no wind, the fire was easy to get burning. I started chopping the ice out. AHHH, only about 3 inches today. NICE! but I still had my half of a tank of 6 inche deep from yesterday. It was nice enough, so I kept at it. I knew I had to get the float free, but it is a delicate feat. One wrong tap with the ax and the float is NO MORE. I had the fire burning hot and the ice was already starting to melt around the barrel. I kept inching the barrel closer to the float to help me melt it out. I got all the ice that I had chopped pitched out of the tank and I stood back to figure out what the hell I was going to do with my float. I sure as hell didn’t want to the one to break it. I jumped up on top of the ice that was suspending the float. Now, this last lonely piece of ice that was in the tank was only about 2 feet wide. I was actually damn impressed with myself that I had cleared the whole tank by myself. Bending over on top of this sliver of ice, daintly tapping the ice on the float, I stood back up and turned my head. I instantly heard a sizzle noise. My brain was like like, “Yo, your hair is on fire”. As I had turned my head I had moved my head past the stove pipe coming up from my fire. I shrieked and started patting my head. As I stood there on top of the ice, I kep patting my head thinking, “it is out right?”. Now, keep in mind it didn’t burn my hair as most of it was buried in my hood. It singed a few that had the audacity to be in the elements. I studied my fire and melting process. I thought if I could get that fire really boiling, I bet it would melt out. I stoked it up with alot of wood and more coal and went home. It took me 2.5 hourse to chop out and almost burn up.

The Stauff had called when I got home and said they were releasing him. My shoulder muscles relaxed a little knowing reinforcement was on it’s way home. I told him what I had done and I got the “why did you do that? I would have helped”. I told him the weather was so nice, why waste a day inside. I don’t think he believed me. He knew how it ate me alive knowing I didn’t get it cleaned out. I asked him to fill the barrel up again with wood when he got home, which he did.

The 4th day. The Stauff is home. Thank the Almighty. It was still -25 in the AM. We got up and he went and loaded down Artie with hay. We decide to pull in the cows against another big cut bank out of the wind. I tell him my stories of how I almost dropped a tire in an old stump hole and how someone was watching over me. He grinned and said “So you are saying to follow your tracks?”. I gut laughed and said, “yuh, I would. Saved my ass”. I also told him that I had visited with the cows enough the past few days that I was staying in Artie while he pitched it out. He smiled and then frowned when he got back in. The wind had started to pick up. He says, “this weather is fricking stupid”. I agreed as he picked up my tracks in the snow from the previous day and we made our way to the water tank. I was looking at all the buildings making sure there was no ice coming out from doorways or walls as I heard The Stauff say, “hey your heater must have worked, the float melted out and the water is back up”. I shot my eyes to the tank. My grin started from one ear and went to another. I shouted, “IT WORKED, IT WORKED”. There was only a touch of the 6 inch ice shlef left in the tank. Granted it was surrounded by 3 inches of new ice. It was cold and windy and ice was starting to form on my face again, but I didn’t care. I completed my job. I got the ice out.

We went home and studied the weather forecast. The 40 degree day that was supposed to be on the horizon had dropped to 30. I told The Stauff, “That 40 degree day was what got me through that shit”. He laughed at me and said, “I bet the 30 degree day will still feel pretty damn good”. That night of the 4th day it got down to air temp of -37. Magee had called me and asked what I was doing. I told him I was looking through my hair to see what I had singed in the fire. He said, “Mom, what did you do?”. lol..Those days were miserable. But at the end of the day, the cows all made it through, we had no accidents, we were all safe and warm and that is all that really matters. Grandpa would be proud I think, cause it was colder than a witches tit and I made it.

Life with a Weim.

Posted on by onlyinastauffworld

My life with my weim, whom I lovingly call my hound has been a wild 12 years. She has given me more than a few gray hairs. If I were to be honest she has given me more gray hair than the kids ever thought of. I created a monster the day I brought her home and was exhausted from driving 6 hours to get her and turning around driving 6 hours back. I laid her in her new Walmart bed. I fell into my soft, welcoming bed and I immediately heard her start to whine. 12 years later, I should have just let her whine. She was so soft and cuddly. What could one night of sleeping in my bed hurt. 12 years later, it hurt my sleep pattern immensely. Like she never left my bed and she booted The Stauff out of bed when she tipped the scale at 80 pounds. Now at 100 pounds, she knows my bed is her bed and allows me to sleep there. Although her seperation anxiety would kick in if I weren’t there and she would find wherever I was and would sleep there anyway. Trust me, that connection is a Weim thing.

Since she was in my bed, when she would catch a smell filtering through the house and blow up, pacing till I let her out. She would blow out the door with her hair sticking straight up off her ass. She looks both ways in the yard, ears flopping up and down, the blue of her eyes darting around, just in case a random raccoon was lurking in the shadows. Nothing, she sniffs around the fresh cut grass and finds the perfect spot to pee. Barks a few more times, kicks her back feet up kicking up dead grass as it flies behind her. This goes on about 5-10 mins. Then she is ready to come back in and sleep for a few more hours before it starts all over again. This has been my life for 12 years. I have been living a new born baby life for 12 years. The up and down every night has created a bad sleep pattern for me. I talked to my Dr. and I told her how tired I am about 2:00 P.M. The converstaion went like this.

Me: “also, I am having a hard time about mid day. I am so tired around 2 I could just face plant”.

Dr: “How is your sleep pattern? I ask because sometimes people have sleep issues that need further testing with. Do you feel you get enough deep sleep?”

Me: “Well I usually get up 3 or 4 times a night”.

Dr: “What makes you get up that much during the night?”

Me: “Um, my dog needs to be let out. She paces around my bed until I let her out”.

Dr: “oh”..

Me: “deep sigh”

Dr: “how long has this gone on?”

Me: “well, she is going to be 12 years old next month.”

Dr: “Oh shhhhhii…”

Me:…………..

Dr: “I am so sorry, I don’t think I can help with you being so tired”.

As you can see I get excited to go on work trips, cause I get a bed to myself for the whole night. Although, after 12 years, my body just thinks it needs to get up. I am used to it. What is a girl to do with a dog that she adores?

This whole not sleeping was perplexing to me. I wondered if I did get a solid nights sleep would it make a difference. Would I be like the Grinch and my black heart might beat a little different with a little sleep? I decided to try a sleep app to see how well my sleep really was. What could it hurt? I found an app that I thought would do the ticket.. monitored sleep, rem sleep, deep sleep, awake time etc. Then it would analyze it. I set it all up and hit start.

I had a hard time going to sleep that night. I went to bed around 10:30 and saw 11 roll on past like nothing.. I finally drifted off to sleep at some point. In the middle of the night, all of a sudden something hit me in the face. Like dead center on my nose. I swear to God himself I thought someone was in the house and I was about to be featured on a tik tok rabbit hole of what happened to Kris Stauffer. My mind flashed with locations of all the guns and knives in the house. All of the configurations came back with, “You are probably just going to die”. I thought about the punch to the noise and was thankful I dont have any bones in my nose, I felt it would have broke or seriously tweaked if I had. This all spun out in what felt like 10 seconds. I finally opened my eyes to see who had smoked me on the nose. Brave to meet my fate. Complete darkness. “shit” I thought, “who or what in the hell was that”. I thought to myself “hold up, ya know it kinda felt like the hounds paw”. I reach out and feel the hounds foot. I grab it and extend it to my face.. yep.. sound asleep she was.. must have been dreaming and kicked me in the face. I holler at her. “Geezus H..move your ass”. She grumbled and moaned and moved to her side. Back to bed. Then she smelled a smell, off to the door.. bark and holler.. back to bed.. back to sleep.

My little app started shaking and sending out some odd noises abruptly at 7:00 A.M. Hushing my phone and stretching I remembering the app, I was excited to review my metrics. I get a “congratulations your sleep quality was 83%”. 83% I thought. HOW?? I kept reading. It said I fell asleep 9 minutes after going to bed. Now, I am calling bullshit. I saw the clock hit past 11:00. Then I look at the graphs of what looks to be alot of deep rem sleep. Eh? When?

I reviewed the recordings hoping and half ass praying I heard no voices.. 👻.. at approximately 1:20 A.M., I heard some noise and then a “geezus H. Move your ass”. “Ahh”, I thought, that is when The Hound kicked me in the nose. Remembering the thought that my life was ending at the hands of some sketch shit made me chuckle. Then I heard her bark and go out, come back in.. I went through the rest of the metrics. Amazed, it all shows I slept well. I sat their pondering as I pet my hound.. the hound.. she snored all night. That damn app picked up her snoring and put it into my metrics. Which is why “I” went to sleep 9 mins after I hit the button.. damn it. First she smokes me in the nose and then steals my cool app. I can’t win..at least one us is getting good sleep.

Fall=A full circle

Posted on by onlyinastauffworld

When you have cows, falls means one thing, the life of having cows is about to make a full circle. Selling off the calves and the older cows that need to go on down the road. Today was the day that we sold our calves. What is the problem you might ask. Well, it is a long story, so let’s begin.

Growing up we had about 150 head of cows. My Grandpa fussed and cared for each one every year. He knew each cow very well. If he didn’t have a name for them he had a characteristic for each one. He would say, “Ya know that one with the ear that has a cut in it” or “that one with the white front to her”. He knew each one so well, that is actually amazed me as a kid. I assumed every person who had cows possessed such abilities. It didn’t take me long to get the feel of it. I noticed the little things about them. The slide of a foot, swish of a tail, who was cake broke and who was about to be. I think one of the saddest things I have ever watched was taking my Grandpa out to feed cows the the Christmas before he died. My Mom pointed out some of his favorites and he just sat and stared at them and didn’t say a word. To this day it breaks me just thinking about it.

Anyway, I inherited his love of cattle. With our herd, we are the same way. We have names for some and characteristics for others. The Stauff really only has numbers for each one. I am usually asking “who is 62? Is that Mavis?”. He usually rolls his eyes at me and says “I don’t know your damn names”. Although, when we are feeding cake I hear him say, “Come on Frosty, come on”. Yea, yea, don’t know names my ass. We have by no means a “herd” of cows. The Stauff and I promised each other 20 years ago that we would never go in debt to have cows. Knock on wood, so far we haven’t. But, with that means we don’t have alot of cows. We have 14. Now, you say, geesh that isn’t alot. You are correct. Although, those 14 still need to be fed, ice chopped in the winter, doctored, calved, branded and in the end, sold.

The circle starts in July turning the bull out. Free love and a long hot summer. Fall comes and the bull says goodbye and the girls turn their full attention to their calf that they had this past spring. Once we feel the calves are a good weight we choose which of the heifers we will keep and all the boys go down the road. The calves that we keep will either build up the numbers or will replace the cows that are going down the road. Either the cow is old, lost a calf, or bat shit crazy and they head to the sale barn.

This year The Stauff and I scrutinized the calves pretty hard. All of our cows are easy going and nice looking cows, so there really isn’t a bad choice. Numbers were written down on which calves would head down the road and which ones were staying with us. Now to the cows. Two cows were pulled.

We have one cow, “Frosty” who is seriously cake broke. You have a couple cubes of cake in your hand and she will walk through the depths of hell with you. She got the name frosty as she has a white circle on her face along with a little white above her eye. She is a great leader of the bunch and if she starts walking the others will follow right behind her. But. The past two years she threw a huge calf that she couldn’t have on her own and by the time we got her in and the calf pulled, the calf was dead. We thought the first year was a fluke. Just something odd that kicked out. This past year, it was the same thing. Another dead calf and my heart broke for her as she is a very good mama cow. The Stauff said we couldn’t do another year.

The next one that was chosen was “BJ”. BJ stands for Bum Junior as her mother was our very first “Bum” we had and probably the best cow we have ever had. BJ lost her first calf and it was also the first calf I lost tending cows. We both took it hard, me, maybe a little more. But the next year she calved in a snow storm on her own and turned out to be just like her mama. One hell of a cow. She turned out some nice calves. Last winter she must have slipped on some ice and she has had issues once in awhile getting around. The Stauff and I decided that we couldn’t watch her this winter, so she would go down the road.

Then, the babies. The babies are the hardest ones. We look at how the mother is, how her feet are, how she is aging, etc. Thinking that if we keep one of their heifers, that is the genetics that we will be dealing with for awhile. The steer calves are a no brainer, they roll on down the road. But his year, there was SteveO.

SteveO was born in a horrible snow storm and had a zero chance at life. His Mother, #03, (the one with crazy flat bangs) was a first time Mom. I watched as she went by the house with snow coming in side ways, while switching her tail. As the wind screamed, I prayed all would go well. She did calve, but the calf wouldn’t get up. She had him in an old huge culvert. It is an ideal place actually. Out of the wind and snow. I would check on them throughout the afternoon, and the calf was still not up. I would try to help it up, but it was a huge calf and there was nothing I was going to do to help. As the night krept in, so did the cold. The calf was shaking cold and wet. The new Mom, clueless as to what she needed to do, stood and watched me. I decided I would have to take it inside or else it would be dead by morning, but how. We had a ton of snow, but I was able to get the four wheeler into the culvert. I grabbed an old bed spread and threw him on top of it. I grabbed rope and tied him up around the bed spread. A make shift sled. I tied it up to the four wheeler and we started to the house. I pulled him right to the basement door using the mounds of snow as a cushion for him to lay on. I drug his half alive body into the warmth of the basement and I laid him right next to the wood stove. The hound started licking on him and I started rubbing him down with towels. I grabbed a bottle and some colostrum. He finally started to drink and was warming up. All through the night the hound and I laid with him. As the sun was stretching into the basement, the calf was stretching and wanting to get up. I tried to steady him as he stood up. Pretty soon he was starting to stand on his own.

Later that day The Stauff would break through the drifts and was able to get home. He helped me take the calf to the barn and brought in his mother. It took the mama a few hours to love up to her calf, but she did. She did just as we figured out the calf had more issues. His front joint were swelled up. A phone call to the vet. More than likely had a infection that came through his umbilical cord. The infection usually effected joints and the brain. A 50/50 shot he would make it. I felt defeated. We started giving him medicine around the clock like the vet instructed. It took about 4 days and he finally started to walk like he should. J and I was watching him one day and J said “I think we call him SteveO, he looks like a SteveO)”. She was right, SteveO it was. After a week of being penned up, we turned them back to the rest of the cows. It wasn’t a month and SteveO came up lame again. He hurt his front hoof somehow, but about 2 weeks later he was running amuck with the other calves. He turned out just fine.

Which leads us to today. Yesterday we got the cows and calves in. We took our little note on who was staying and who was leaving with us. Cows and calves that were staying went to the north pen. The ones that were heading to the sale barn, went to the west pen. I watched SteveO buck around and run. Thinking of the hell he went through. How many times he looked at death straight in the face and somehow managed to pull through. With all the cows sorted, we fed them and let them set for the night. This AM up bright and early to head to down to load. The Stauff backed up the trailer to the corrals. We took the cows to a smaller pen to pull the calves off. The cows sorted easy. They were ready to get out of the corrals. With the calves separated out, gates were swung the other way to push them down the alley to the trailer. The ran down the alley and jumped right into the trailer just like they knew what they were doing.

The Stauff locked up the doors and nodded as he jumped into the pick up to head to the sale barn. I went to grab the pickup to throw hay to the cows. As I was walking to the gate I looked up at the cows. All the cows that were in the pen with me was watching the trailer with their babie in it. As the pickup started to move so did they. They started to walk along side the corral, bawling for them. As the pick up dropped below the meadow, the bawling got louder, they turned and ran to the furthest pen still watching, still bawling. I grabbed my pitch fork and started to pitch hay to them, with hot tears rolling down my cheeks. SteveO’s Mom just stood there in the pen watching until the only thing left was the dust settling back to the ground. She came back to the rest of the cows who were busy munching on the hay. I made myself busy pitching more hay. #03 walked up the fence and just stood there looking at me. I glanced up at her and here eyes were set on me. Hot tears mixed with hay flakes as they rolled down my cheek. “Don’t look at me” I told her. I stood there moving hay around until she relented and started to eat. I got in the cold pick up and went home. I fixed a hot tea as I wiped my tear/hay streaked face. I stared at the window and muttered “this shit isn’t for the weak”.

And, that is how life on the ranch makes a full circle. There are days when you want to sell them all and days that you want to keep them all. I have called them a few names over the year, sometimes it was a “you son of a bitch”. But, it was done with all love. The care we give them, the prayers we say over them as a storm rolls in all comes to this day. A full circle, just as we get ready for calving season this spring to start it all over again.

Sheep herder stand

A “Challenging Day”

Posted on by onlyinastauffworld

Today was… let’s say… “challenging”.. from the moment I arose till the very bitter end. As five bells tolled on my heart claiming the end of the day, I felt a tug on my collar to go to the south pasture. The south pasture has always been my favorite place on the ranch. So much history of wagons, Indians, dinosaurs and last but not least my 3 generations before me. There is a sheep herder stand that fell over years ago.. My Grandpa would tell stories of how sheep herders would build these rock stands during the day while their sheep would graze and it would give them a place to sit later on to watch them. We have a handful on them scattered across the ranch that have been standing against the elements of mother nature for well over 100 years. This one rock pile is the only one I have ever saw that had fallen over. Why? I have no idea. The rock pile was close to the road and every time I would drive by it, for some reason, I would always feel bad for it. The kids and I would always say we would put it back one day… I decided today would be the day.

Mid October in Wyoming means one thing, the weather is getting cooler. I grabbed a sweatshirt, some gloves, my hound and I headed out. I bounced down the rough dirt road dodging water wash outs. As I drove up to the top of our ridge I prayed all the way that no snakes were hiding amongst the rocks. Surely they were chilled by now?? As I walked to my pile of rocks I studied my task.. hmm.. had their been 2 that fell over? Crazy.. All these years I assumed there was just one. Well, by the size of some of the rocks, there would probably be only one after today..

I started grabbing rocks, then grabbing smaller rocks to stabilize each layer, then added another layer and so on. I pushed down hard on each level. I made sure that there wasn’t a weak spot or a lone wobbly rock that would bring down the whole stack. It wasn’t long until I had run out of big rocks. I started grabbing little rocks filling in hanging ledges for extra support. Luckily, there was no sign of snakes.. whew.. When I had started grabbing rocks, I glanced up at the existing stack. Something strange caught my eye. Nestled very delicately inside of the intricately stacked rocks was a beautful feather. There had been a little bird nest in the pile of rocks, so I rebuilt the new stack with a south facing opening to their little hole with coverage on both sides and a tight north wall. Some bird would appreciate me someday.

I threw my sweatshirt on the dry, krinkly sod and sat down to admire my work. My hound joined me taking it all in. I laughed out loud knowing 3 generations were probably looking down with a crooked smile and a raised eyebrow asking exactly what in the hell did I build. As I laughed, I whispered into the breeze, “hush, I did good for my first one”. Ha..

I threw my head to the heavens smiling and the sky caught my eye.. Dusk in the fall meant it was about time to get really pretty. I sat there and took a million pictures with my phone as the colors changed every second it seemed. Blues, to creams, to pinks to oranges and a hundred other colors that I wish crayola could create.

Pretty soon I heard some elk start bugling for their pals, then some coyotes joined in on down in the deep depths of the draws..I laid down on the sod to stare into the sky. The breeze drifted through the cedars standing solidly beside me sending a sweet cedar smell racing through my soul. The trees stood tall in the approching shadows protecting my little sheep herder stand. I looked beside me and saw a plant that looked like the one I have been trying to keep alive in my house, which also made me laugh.. all be damned.. I have tried and tried to get that bastard to live and here it’s pals are surviving in the midst of a prairie. They should take lessons from their pioneer friends. My hound and I got up to leave just as the moon snuck out to see us home. At home I looked at my hound and said, “well, I guess some days just suck”. Thankful for a tug on the collar that led me out and said, “See? It isn’t all bad.” But if that sheep herder stand falls over I will be pissed..