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.