Tag: ranching

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..

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.

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.