The Summer Soldier

Thomas Paine

On December 23, 1776, Thomas Paine wrote: “These are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman.”  It was a plea to that 30% of the population who had not committed to the loyalists, nor joined their patriot brothers in the cause of the Revolution.  1/3 of our countrymen, at that time, were straddling the fence in a waiting game to see which side would come out on top.

We had Thanksgiving dinner at Doreen’s “Treehouse” yesterday and she pointed out that, once again, we are in “times that try men’s souls.”  Our country, which was founded on Christian principles is under attack and this is not the time to be a “summer soldier…[or] sunshine patriot.”  Those Christian principles are built into our Constitution and are what made the United States the greatest country on earth for over 230 years.  It is, largely, because we have strayed away from those principles that we are now in danger of becoming a “third world” nation controlled by a despotic regime.

All Americans need to stand up and be counted.  We all need to loudly profess our belief in the Christian values of our fathers and forefathers and be proud of our heritage.  It is not a crime to be American or Christian!  As Doreen put it, all it takes for evil to prevail is for good men to stand idly by and do nothing.

Check out the "Treehouse":  (http://www.wellsbiblestudy.com/Treehouse)

The error of our ways

I guess every generation thinks they have the answers to the problems that seem to plague mankind and my generation was no different.  In my time the Viet Nam “conflict” was the driving force that caused us to “sit in,” march, demonstrate, and otherwise scream for peace with every ounce of energy we had.  It spawned the “peace movement” that had us burning draft cards, wearing “flowers in our hair,” tip-toeing through the tulips, and moving into communes.

Love was the answer, free love, we loved everything to death, especially each other.  It all seemed good but eventually free love turned into the sexual revolution and that was not good.  It subverted the traditional American family values.  Other traditional values were also cast aside, like religion.  Suddenly, led by the Beatles, it was cool to be steeped in eastern philosophy.  Suddenly the teachings of Paramahansa Yogananda were the light and the way.  If, by chance, you had read the writings of Kahlil Gibran then you were in, and if you listened to the musical strings of Ravi Shankar, wow!

Khalil Gibran

Paramahansa Yogananda

Ravi Shankar

I never connected the dots at the time but, looking back, I can see that we were terribly wrong.  I can see how all these liberal thinkers were shaping our lives and we were fighting the American way.  Moving into communes, what the hell were we thinking?  It seems like we were headed for the very things we abhor today, Communism!

Most of us were forced out of this mindset when we had to make our way in the competitive world but some of us did not.  Many of those who did not became college professors and carried that liberal mindset with them to pass along to the next generation.  That’s where most of the damage took place.  Today we are plagued by these liberal thinkers and we have nobody to blame but ourselves.  I blame liberalism for spiraling this country into moral and financial bankruptcy and I am sorry that I was part of the movement that left this legacy for those who must follow.

Repairing the Rhino brush hog

Richard is my partner in our cow/calf business.  He was Papa’s partner for more than twenty years so he has been at it for quite a while.  Richard turned 80 years old this year, but don’t let that fool you.  He is powerfully built and I have difficulty keeping up with him due to my jellified body from too many years behind a desk.  Richard is constantly advising me and trying to bring me up to speed in the business and, in a good natured way, we are constantly at odds about whether his 30 years of experience or my 10 minutes of logical “thinking about it” is the best approach to the tasks at hand.  I trust his judgment completely on the really important stuff.  Recently, our Rhino “brush hog” broke down and it was determined that one of the clutches was failing.

A brush hog is a mean machine that chops down anything that gets in its way.  For clarity here, I insert the Wikipedia definition of a brush hog:

This is a typical brush hog

A brush hog is a type of rotary mower. Typically these mowers attach to the back of a farm tractor using the three-point hitch and are driven via the Power take-off (PTO). It has blades that are not rigidly attached to the drive like a lawnmower blade, but are on hinges so if the blade hits a rock or stump, it bounces backward and inward, and then inertia makes it go outwards again.

The rotary blades are not sharpened in the same way as a conventional mower blade. They are usually quite dull so they whack through dense plant growth, where a sharp blade will get stuck or slowed down. The blades are very heavy, up to an inch thick, so the momentum pulling out is stronger than the forces of the vegetation bouncing in. They are made of heat treated high carbon steel that can withstand strikes with hard objects such as rocks and stones.

The one we pull behind the tractor is called a Rhino “bat wing” because it has a main center blade and a hydraulically adjustable wing on each side that can be set to mow slopes.  We use ours flat and it mows a 15 foot swath with each pass.  There is a drive shaft coming from the main gear box to each of the 3 secondary gearboxes and a clutch device on each of them to take up the shock of initial engagement or hitting hard objects.

Richard decided we would repair it ourselves and proceeded to show me what needed to be done.  “Just remove this nut, slide the drive shaft back and the entire mechanism can be removed for repair.”  “It won’t work” I said, “the drive shaft will only slide back two inches and we need at least three inches to clear the shaft it’s mounted on.”  “It’ll work” he said, “I have faith.”  “You’re wrong” I repeated, “there’s got to be another way.”  “It’ll work,” he said.  “Wanna bet?” I queried.  “Sure, you’re on” he said.  So, with that, we went to work

The task was to remove nut (C) and slide the clutch mechanism (everything between C and D) off the end of the shaft at nut (C).  I immediately recognized that the only lateral movement possible was the distance between (A) and (B), hence we would not be able to slide it far enough to remove it from the end of the shaft at (C)

Initially, the nut (C) would not come lose and I had to use a cutting torch to get it off, quite a delicate task when its important to not damage the threads of the shaft.  We finally got it off, and as I expected, we were not able to move it far enough to release it from the shaft.  What I did not expect was that it did allow enough movement to remove the small drive shaft between the universal joints at (A) and (B) and that facilitated the clutch removal.  So, once again, I consume a portion of “crow pie,” a delicacy that is becoming standard fare on my menu.

Richard gloating and holding up the clutch mechanism

Chicken Sale?

Well, I went to my first “chicken sale” yesterday afternoon.  I was told it was akin to a flea market where you are likely to find just about anything, and its true!  The whole affair is run like an auction with the exception of the definite “party” atmosphere.

We arrived early to find a good parking spot and to allow time to peruse all the treasures on display.  Anyone can bring their unwanted items to a chicken sale, find a spot along the lengthy driveway, and lay their goods out for others to see, all for no charge.  Also, anyone can bid on the items as long as they get an assigned “buyer’s number” before the sale begins.  Once you have a buyer’s number, you keep it for your lifetime and use it whenever you attend this chicken sale.  I went with Gary, one of the “board members” who has been before and has a buyer’s number.

At first, I thought the name chicken sale was a little deceiving but then I noticed a large barn at the end of the driveway.  I entered the barn and saw an amazing assortment of game birds.  Ducks, chickens, quail, turkeys, and geese were there, just to name a few, but the amazing thing was that there were several species of each!  The barn was literally packed with birds, all in cages stacked as high as you could reach; thousands of them.  I guess if you wanted a more descriptive name for the affair you could call it a “game bird sale.”  You could also purchase eggs from any of these species.

At 6:00 pm sharp, the owner came out of the barn and worked his way to the end of the driveway farthest from the barn where the first items were displayed.  In a clear auctioneer’s call he began asking for bids on what appeared to be a box of junk.  He started at $5 and was soon just asking for $1.  When he got no takers, he added a couple of used tires belonging to the same seller and that got the ball rolling.  The tires went for about $10 as I remember it, and the box of junk went with them.  In this manner, the auctioneer worked his way along the driveway until he was back at the barn.

All of the items on sale were used and sold “as-is.”  Corrugated roofing, lumber, fencing, farm implements, horse tack, quads, ammunition, guns, furniture, clothing and appliances were some of the items sold that night.  Many of the items on sale were in such bad shape that a junk yard would have refused them but, believe it or not, everything sold.  I noticed several times that items went for a price very near what you would pay if you bought it new at a store but it seems like all the excitement and the desire to be “part of the action” overrode common sense.  I’m sure many of the buyers woke up the next morning wondering what the hell they had done.

Gary bought a “critter cam,” an infra-red camera for photographing warm blooded animals in the dark, that normally sells for $230 for $10, and it works!  He also bought a very old antique telephone hand crank that contained three large horseshoe magnets that he said he was going to use for fishing.  Apparently, you just drop the ends of two wires into the water a few feet apart, crank the handle, and the fish float to the surface.  I’ve heard of that before but never witnessed it.  Maybe he will take me along when he tests it.  All in all, I had a good time and met some interesting people, several of whom were newbies like me.

Communist Pilgrims?

For anyone who thinks Obama and Communism are the best direction for our country, think again.  I just found and interesting footnote in a book I just completed about the Pilgrim women who came to this country on the Mayflower in 1620.  It seems that they were the first to speak out about the shortcomings of the communal form of government the Pilgrims had adopted during their first two years in Plymouth.  According to the book, the communist administration of government was responsible for “breeding confusion and discontent.”

In a formal complaint written by William Bradford, the colony’s first governor, he added this comment: “For ye yong-men that were most able and fitte for labour and service did repine that they should spend their time and strength to work for other men’s wives and children without any recompense…  And for men’s wives to be commanded to doe servise for other men, as dressing their meate, washing their cloathes, etc., they deemed it a kind of slaverie, neither could many husbands well brooke it.”  [spelling left intact]

Anyone who has ever worked in a “union” environment knows of the deadbeats who cannot be fired and are only along for the ride.  Those are the “…yong-men…fit for labour…” that William Bradford was talking about, those unmotivated ner’-do-wells that lay their burden on the rest of us.  Union shops are a breeding ground for those types and unionism only benefits those who cannot survive on their own efforts, they need the mob to support them.

Shortly after the second group of Pilgrims arrived on the ships “Ann” and “James, the settlers adopted an “every man for his owne particuler”  [spelling left intact] form of governance and it was this attitude that produced the type of people that allowed the colonies to grow and prosper.  This is the “every man for himself” attitude that the Democrats mock!  What’s wrong with every man carrying his own weight?  Does anyone remember the battle cry of Lenin and the Communist Manifesto as they led Russia into 60 years of poverty?  “Workers of the world; Unite!” is the cry of communism and unionism and is the path of the Obama administration.

The new emblem of the Democrats

Throughout history, men have tried communism and the results have always been abject failure.  We should learn a lesson from those Pilgrim ladies or we are apt to end up like the former Soviet Union (Union of Soviet Socialist Republic) or their puppet society in Cuba!  Communism always leads to tyranny and a Police-State.  Speak out, or soon, you will be afraid to speak out!

Floyd Patterson

In the 1990’s I was in Las Vegas during the weekend of a major heavyweight title bout between two contenders whose names I do not remember.  Walking through the lobby of the MGM Grand, I found myself in a wide hallway standing near a sign advertising a chance to meet two other ex-heavyweight title holders in one of the adjacent rooms.  Entering the room I suddenly found myself face to face with none other than Ken Norton.  Standing there in his prime, Ken was an awesome physical presence and I could not imagine being toe to toe with him in a roped off arena.

Ken Norton

There were several people in a line waiting to chat with Mr. Norton and for a moment, I considered joining that line but then I notice another person sitting at a table a few feet away.  There was no line at the other table so I walked up and introduced myself to the man who first exposed me to professional boxing, Floyd Patterson.  I was only eleven years old when Floyd beat Archie Moore to win the title being vacated by the retiring Rocky Marciano.  Both fighters had stepped up from the light heavyweight division to claim the heavyweight title but Archie was 42 years old at the time, and Floyd was just 21.  In a unique matchup, Archie was the oldest ever to vie for the heavyweight title, and Floyd was the youngest ever to win it.

Floyd Patterson

I chatted with Floyd uninterrupted for almost half an hour and was surprised at how small he appeared in contrast to Ken Norton who stood just a few feet away.  It was difficult to imagine that they had both been in the same weight class.  Floyd had been the New York Golden Gloves champion in 1951 and 1952, and had won Olympic Gold in the middleweight division at Helsinki in 1952.  Floyd won the heavyweight division in November of 1956 and over the ensuing  30 months, he defended it four times, finally losing the belt to Ingemar Johansson in June of 1959.

Ingemar Johansson

In June of 1960, Floyd regained the title in a rematch and became the first man ever to regain the title after losing it.  After defending his title twice in 1961, he ended his career with two losses, both in the first round, to Sonny Liston.  Sonny held the title for just 17 months, after which began the 14 year reign of Muhammad Ali.  I walked away from that meeting with Floyd Patterson with an autographed T-Shirt and fond memories of a decent man.  He was a gladiator of modern times.  Professional boxing is a unique sport.  I’ve heard it said that you play football, you play baseball and you play basketball, but you don’t play boxing.

McDonalds

Well, another venerable landmark with personal connections comes to a close today.  The local McDonald’s restaurant that has been the traditional host of the “Board Meetings” for the past twenty plus years will be demolished tomorrow to make room for its replacement, another updated and entirely new McDonald’s.  Many Board members have come and gone over the years, including my father-in-law, Poppa, and it will be sad to see it go.  I remember the days when we visited here from California and I would accompany him to an occasional meeting.  The sessions come to order at 5:00 a.m. and were usually over by 7:00 a.m. with all the local events discussed and the world’s problems solved.

Richard will attend the last meeting at the old venue, even though he is just recovering from knee surgery that has had him out of commission for over a week.  “I can’t miss the last meeting” he said, “its where Johnny (Poppa) and I spent many hours.”

Richard generally opens the meeting with a prayer, after which, the agenda could cover almost any subject.  We might talk about the new tin roof Jerry H. put on one of his many rental houses and how, yes, it’s discolored and mismatched but he saved a pile buying used material.  Jerry is accused of being so tight fisted that he once bound 400 bales of hay with one ball of twine!  Sometimes we even talk about the cattle, like the time Jack told us how, on the way to the sale barn, he looked in his rear view mirror only to see his cows looking back at him.  Apparently, the tailgate on the trailer had come loose and some of his cows fell out!  Luckily, he was traveling at a reduced speed and none of them were seriously hurt.  They have told stories of trailer floors giving way and the cows dropping through to the pavement.  It doesn’t take much imagination to envision the results of that calamity.

It might just be my opinion, but I think Frank (Poppa’s best friend) is the unofficial “Chairman of the Board.”  Frank is not the oldest member, but he is the most consistent attendee.  He is usually the first one there and nothing short of a tornado will keep him away.  His property was severely damaged in the tornado last year, dropping over 100 of his trees with one of them narrowly missing his home where he was sound asleep!  He was very lucky.  Frank has 11 siblings, and in 1948, when he was just a young boy, his family had the distinction of winning first prize in the “Largest Family in Atoka” contest; there were 14 of them!

Gary is one of the younger members and, when it comes to animals, plants, or machinery, he is the resident know-it-all, and he does!  I have never met anyone who has such a comprehensive knowledge of so many things.  He went riding on his Harley yesterday just in time to get caught in the 3 inches of rain that were dumped on us in the span of an hour!  Needless to say, he returned looking like a drowned rat.

Lynn is the local professional dog trainer (Google “Lynn Daniel’s Border Collies”).  His dogs are pretty miraculous and if you’ve never seen a dog work cattle, visit his website where he has some videos.  His dogs are in high demand, and folks come from all over the world to buy them.  Lynn is also an expert horseman.

Jerry S. comes in periodically, ostensibly, to aggravate Richard (all in good humor of course).  Jerry is busy rehabilitating an older home that he recently purchased.  He has taken on a gargantuan task but I would venture to say that, when he’s finished, it will be one of the finer homes in town.

Larry has a home and acreage east of town.  He allowed Richard and I to mow his meadow a couple of weeks ago that resulted in a few extra bales of hay for the barn.  Larry is a truck driver and any day might find him in Texas or Oklahoma City.  A day off from driving might find him repairing a transmission or engine on one of his many vehicles.

Smitty shows up on rare occasions but that is only because he lives so far away.  His home is in Clayton but he keeps cattle in the area and stops in on his way to check on his herd.  They say he has hit many deer driving so far that early in the morning, but it doesn’t stop him.  Smitty is the ex-superintendent of schools in the area and was a star basketball player in his youth.  As would be expected, he is very tall and his team won the state championship when he was playing.

There are many more board members, too numerous to mention if fact, and I only hope we can keep it together for the three months its supposed to take to finish the new boardroom.  Everyone has a different opinion about where our temporary facilities should be located and the final decision is still up in the air.  The truck stop, the casino, and the donut shop are likely candidates.  We will see.

Something in the Air

There was something in the air this morning.  With Richard in the hospital for knee surgery, I took on the added task of feeding the cat, dogs and chickens.  As I approached the chicken coop, the rooster took on an aggressive posture on the other side of the gate.  I had to wait for him to back away before I could enter so he wouldn’t get out.

This is him

After I entered his area, he attacked and I had to fend him off with the large stick I carry with me whenever I go into his pen.  I pushed him back several times with the stick and then I lost my patience and kicked him about three feet in the air.  Nothing deterred him and he came back at me and I had to fend him off with the stick for the entire time I was feeding them and collecting the eggs.  He distracted me so much that when I finally departed, I left the eggs sitting on the ledge and had to return for them later.

I have never understood why a small animal with no arms and very short legs would attack something as large as a human.  I could have squashed him at any moment and we would be eating chicken and dumplings tonight!  To get even, I tormented him with the water hose for 15 minutes or so and reduced him from “King of the roost” to a minor Duke.  When I left, he was crowing about every 30 seconds trying to reestablish his dominance and regain his throne.  I can’t wait for tomorrow.

Even the calves, who are usually very docile and timid, stood their ground when the two dogs tried to chase them off.  Normally they run as soon as they see the dogs coming, but this morning one of them stood face to face with the dog for a few seconds.  I’ve never seen them do that before.  One of them actually came back and confronted the dog after the dog had given up the chase!  Eventually the dogs won out, as they always do, but that show of aggression by the calves was unusual.  I was actually proud of them!

Darrel, Ben Johnson, and Steer Roping

I met an interesting chap for the second time today.  I was first introduced to Darrel H. a couple of years ago during one of my visits to Oklahoma.  At that time he was presented to me as a preacher for a local congregation.  He is a likeable chap, tall, strong, and good looking albeit a bit brusque in his manner.  Like most of the preachers around here, he is very loud spoken.  Anyway, we chatted for a while and I learned that he had grown up on a large spread in northern Oklahoma near the town of Burbank.  One of his neighbors, he said, was none other than Ben Johnson, of Hollywood fame, but Darrel said he did not know he was a movie star and only knew him as Mr. Johnson.

Ben Johnson went to Hollywood in the 1940’s when Howard Hughs hired him to deliver a herd of horses for a movie he was making.  Ben had been a rodeo star up to then and was a world champion roper.  When he got to Hollywood he decided to stay and worked as a stunt man, horse trainer, and taught many of the big stars how to ride western style.  He doubled for the Duke (John Wayne) on many occasions and had roles in many of his movies.  I saw Ben in one of the Duke’s films where he rode tandem horses, standing on their backs, at a full gallop!  It was an amazing stunt and helped Ben to become known as the best rider in Hollywood.

My new friend Darrel H. grew up in this atmosphere and was an accomplished rider himself.  He was telling me about rodeos and how the “steer tripping” (also known as steer roping) event had been eliminated because so many cows were being harmed.  Darrel went on to explain “steer tripping” to me in a way that could only come from someone who had done it many times.  He described every detail as if he were painting a masterpiece, telling me how it was necessary to rope the steer around the horns and then deftly lay the rope along side the cow as you galloped past on the opposite side from the rope, thereby looping the rope behind the cow being careful to catch the back legs in the flank area and not below the hock (a cow’s rear legs flex in reverse of a human’s but the hock would be comparable to the knee).

I know this is not a steer and does not have horns, but its a good enough graphic for this story

Galloping ahead of the steer at this point would pull the hind legs under the steer toward its head, causing it to fall to the ground undamaged.  The problem, he said, is that many of the inexperienced riders have gotten into the habit of turning sharply away from the cow pulling its back legs to the side and this is what causes all the injuries.  They do this to effect a quicker trip, trying to shorten the time and win the event.  Darrel called this method “steer jerking” and obviously held those who practiced this method in contempt.

The right way

The wrong way

Apparently, in the old days when it was not convenient to corral range cattle and haul them to a veterinarian for treatments or branding, “steer tripping” was a necessary talent.  The range riders often carried medications in their saddlebags and when they spotted a sickly steer, it only took a few seconds to drop the steer and administer whatever first aid was available and then release it unharmed.

Raising Calves

The following photo shows our John Deere 4230 tractor with a John Deere 435 Baler attached.  The Baler will produce round bales 4 feet wide and six feet high and automatically spits them out the back as you roll along.  That’s Gail you see in the driver’s seat.  Very soon we will have to mow and bale our 80 acre meadow and if all goes well and we get more rain, it will produce between 250 and 300 bales.

Gail at the controls

When Richard and I rounded up the calves for marketing the other day, we were backslapping, high fiving, and generally congratulating ourselves on how smoothly the operation went.  Deftly manipulating a myriad of gates and enclosures, we had corralled and separated over thirty calves, saving three for ourselves (to expand the herd), hauling nine to the auction yard, and releasing the remaining younger ones back to the care of their mamas.  All done in less than two hours, it could not have gone smoother, or so we thought.

Gates, gates, and more gates

When Frank and I went out the next morning to fill the “creep feeders” we discovered, to my dismay, that there was a lone calf trapped in the chute from the previous day’s activity.  Not only was it trapped in the chute, but it’s hind quarters were draped over one of the rails we use to keep them from backing up once they are in the chute.  The poor thing couldn’t move forward or backward or to either side!  It just had to stand there all that day and night waiting for us to return.  Apparently, with all the bawling and caterwauling that was going on we failed to notice the calf and drove off, leaving her trapped.  When we finally got her loose, she made a beeline for the watering pond after which she literally ran to find her mama.  The entire episode was cause for some good natured ribbing at the “board meeting” where I was informed that mistakes such as that would not help to get me into the Cowboy Hall of Fame.

As I mentioned, we cut out three calves to expand our herd and this morning I went with Richard to haul them to the veterinarian.  The veterinarian wormed them and gave them shots for several different illnesses and then branded them with our JR brand and the number two representing the year of their birth, 2012.  The three of them are pictured below.

Freshly branded

We cut our 20 acre pasture a couple of weeks back and it has really helped the grass.  As you can see in the following photo, the new grass is already several inches high.

Our 20 acre pasture

This is where we will put our three new calves as soon as they are weaned from their mamas; about two more weeks.

As nice as the weather has been, we sure could use some rain.  It has been unusually warm and we have not had the summer thunder showers that are normal for the area.  In the following photo, the cows are getting relief from the sun in the shade of the wooded areas.

Looking for shade

We have 32 cows on the east pasture, 25 cows on the west pasture, and 10 cows that are normally kept on the 20 acre pasture.  Added to this, we have 3 bulls and 25 young calves remaining.  These animals are not as dumb as they act.  They seem to know what we are up to and look at me differently now that I have participated in kidnapping their young.  When I came back from the auction barn they seemed to look at me with that “we thought you were different from the others” look and I felt the guilt.  In retaliation they randomly lay land mines around the property like the one in the following photo.

Deadly pasture mines

Stepping on one of these is a constant danger and must be avoided at all costs.

Well, I’ve been here for almost two months now and I have to say, I think I’ve learned more than I thought I didn’t know.

Besides the room addition that turned out to be ten times as much work as I thought it would be, there has been hay mowing and baling, calf and cow tending, and machine maintenance to deal with.  All this had to be accomplished while learning a whole new language during the process.  If you’re getting ready to do something, you’re “fixin” to do it and that fence wire with the barbs on it is not called Barbed Wire, its called “Bob War.”  Also, the past tense for blow is blowed, not blown like I always thought.  A friend of ours has a truck with the engine blowed out of it.  There are many more words like these, but I think you get the idea.

We had a calf “down” a couple of weeks ago and I had to take food and water to it every day out in the woods where it had fallen.  Nobody is sure what happened to it except to speculate that one of the bulls had tried to mount it and broke its back.  The poor thing could not use its back legs.  I took care of it for a week but we eventually had to shoot it to end its misery.  Cousin Richard did the actual deed with a Winchester 30-30, but I went with him for moral support.  It was a sad affair.  We used a front loader on the tractor to haul the carcass to the bone yard.  All these ranches have a bone yard.

Last week I got my first chance to drive the tractor and mow the hayfield and promptly broke the mower.  The mower connects to the rear of the tractor and projects about 12 feet out to one side.  The maintenance shop couldn’t get to the repairs for over a week so, with the assurance of the mechanic on duty at the shop that it was not a complicated task, I offered to effect the repairs myself.  The mower has seven spinning heads and since only the first three were turning, he speculated that the drive shaft between the third and fourth head had twisted off.  “All you have to do,” he said, “is separate the connection between heads 3 and 4 and replace the drive shaft.  Oh” he added “don’t forget to synchronize all the heads so they are not interfering with each other.”  I feel proud that, with those instructions and some very large tools, I was able to repair a rather complicated machine in a couple of hours!

One of the daily tasks I have to do is something they call “creep feeding.”  I don’t know why they call it that but they do.  Apparently, when it comes time to catch all the calves for worming, shots, etc. or for hauling them to the auction barn, it would be a lot of work and is not cost effective to chase them around the pasture trying to rope them.  They get all excited and can run off a few pounds of weight during the process and at sale time, pounds are dollars.  Furthermore, if they get scared they pee and crap another few pounds away so it is more prudent to capture them quietly.  To do this, you place a feeder in a fenced off area and lure the calves inside with a daily supply of tasty morsels.  This gets them used to entering a confined area and also gets them used to seeing me.  To keep the big cows out of the feeding area (it would be too expensive to feed the big mommas) the opening in the gate is reduced so only the calves will fit through.  Once the calves are in the feeding area it is easy to close the gate on them and guide them into a chute for shots or into a trailer to take them to the auction.

I have met many interesting people since our arrival.  Just like in our court system where you are innocent until proven otherwise, here you are a friend until you prove yourself otherwise.  Everyone is helpful and wise with experience.  This is a small town and it sometimes seems like everyone is related or at least close friends with everyone else.  The people are very political, very very patriotic, and strongly religious.  I have coffee in the mornings with some people whose families have been in this area for over a hundred years and they have large ranches with thousands of cattle.  Some even have oil and gas wells that have been handed down through generations, but they all love working with the animals.  I have to admit that it is intoxicating and I already have grown very fond of a few of mine. 

What's Up?

As many of you know, Gail and I have begun a new adventure.  When “Poppa” passed away two years ago, he left us a tract of land that is ideal for raising hay, a pasture with a large pond, a house in town, and half interest in cow/calf business.  For two years the house sat empty and our partner Richard has been taking care of the herd by himself and it has been a daunting task for him.

Last year was a “trying” time for cattlemen.  The drought in Texas/Oklahoma and much of the Midwest prompted many ranchers to sell their herds.  Not only was water a continual problem, but the price of hay for winter feed tripled in price!  With cows being the only means of producing more calves, selling the herd is tantamount to selling your factory and you are left with no means of production.  Thankfully for us, our partner, Richard, took a calculated risk and with the help of the best producing hayfield in the region, was able to weather the storm.  As a consequence, when most of the local ranchers are trying to rebuild their herds, our herd (factory) is in-tact and new calves are arriving almost daily.  As an added bonus, cattle prices are nearing an all time high.

Raising cattle is a task that has been segmented into three distinct stages, each one a specialty of any particular rancher.  “Poppa’s” segment was called the cow/calf part of the business.  In this segment of the industry, the rancher keeps a couple of bulls and a herd of cows that each give birth to a new calf each year (hopefully).  These calves are raised until they reach about 700/800 lbs. in weight, at which time they are sold to a rancher specializing in the second stage of the business.  In the second stage, the cows are raised until they weight about 1200 lbs. then they are sold again to the man operating the third stage of the business, the feed lot.  In the feed lot, they are fed a special mix designed to fatten them up for the slaughterhouse!

After much soul searching, and facing the prospect of fighting off continual weight gain from our sedentary life in California, we decided that in lieu of selling everything here in Oklahoma, it was in our best interest to move here and not only take care of business but to live a more active lifestyle.  The home here is much smaller than the one we left in California, and that has been the biggest adjustment we have had to make.  What to do with 40 years of accumulated “stuff.”  Much of it is still in boxes and will probably stay that way for a while.

I started a room addition just a few days after we arrived and it will make things much easier.  I have had fun doing it and the physical labor has already shown its benefits with the loss of excess baggage (fat).  I am tired every day but I feel great and sleep like a baby.  Gail has been just as busy trying to get things organized.  She has the house in pretty good shape now and is finding more time to devote to her favorite activity, shopping.

I can never hope to fill “Poppa’s” shoes, but with a little luck I think I will make a decent cowboy.  I certainly have lots of help and accumulated knowledge from Richard, Frank, Jerry  and a few of the other locals who I have become acquainted with over the years during my previous visits here.  Stay tuned!

Mountain Men

My recent blog about Isaac Cooper motivated me to learn more about his surroundings and the events of his time, and that led to the blogs about the Santa Fe Trail and then, Tombstone, AZ.  To learn more about Isaac Cooper’s time, I was led to a book by Frank Hall written in 1889.  The title of the book is “A History of the State of Colorado” and is primarily devoted to the discovery of gold and the subsequent influx of settlers to Denver and the surrounding area.  To set the scene for his tale, the author explores the history of the mountain men and fur trappers who were the first white men to enter the area after it came under United States jurisdiction following the Louisiana Purchase.

As a young boy, I read about Kit Carson, Daniel Boone, Jedediah Smith and Davy Crocket and except for a few movies over the years, those books were the extent of my knowledge of those people and their contribution to the settling of this country.  Even after reading about those early pioneers, I don’t think I fully comprehended what it meant to enter an uncharted wilderness with potentially unfriendly natives lurking at every turn.  The terrain itself was foreboding enough, with Grizzly bears, cougars, and other large carnivores ready to take advantage of an unwary traveler.  Even a well beaten path like the Santa Fe Trail claimed its fair share from Rattlesnake bites and the rampages of renegade Indians, not to mention the occasional drowning in swollen streams and accidents with overturned wagons.

Mr. Hall’s book was researched and written when many of the mountain men were still alive, and includes many personal interviews and first hand accounts of the life and times of those folks.  In the early years, most of them worked either directly or indirectly for one or another of the great fur trading companies whose names many of us will recognize.  The oldest and largest of those companies was the Hudson Bay Company (HBC).  Formed by charter on May 2, 1670, the HBC became the largest landowner in North America and is still in existence today, operating retail chains across Canada.  A competitor of HBC was the American Fur Company, founded in 1808 and wholly owned by John Jacob Astor.  With the ouster of the British after the Revolution, the American Fur Company monopolized the fur trade in the United States by 1830.  Encouraged by the new Republic in an effort to forestall the encroachment of British, Russian, and French incursions to the northwest territory, a third company, the Pacific Fur Company, was established in 1810 in Astoria, Oregon.  This company was 50% owned by John Jacob Astor and 50% by the working partners.

A later arrival and smaller company, established in 1823 came to be known as the Rocky Mountain Fur Company (RMFC).  This company contracted with Jedediah Smith, Jim Beckwourth, David Edward Jackson, Thomas Fitzpatrick and the five Sublette brothers including Milton and William to ascend the Missouri River to its source and spend two or three years trapping for furs.  They also hired such notable figures as Jim Bridger, Joseph Meek, Robert Newell, George W. Ebbert, and Kit Carson.

Jedediah Smith

Jedediah Smith (1799 – 1831) was one of the earliest mountain men. With Jim Beckwourth, Jim Bridger and others, Smith was one of the men to answer the 1822 call of William Henry Ashley for “Enterprising Young Men” to join a trapping expedition near the headwaters of the Missouri River.  Later that year, the Arikaras Indians, who were becoming increasingly hostile, attacked the party and massacred 13 of the men; Jedediah survived.  In 1824, along the Cheyenne River, Jedediah was stalked by a large Grizzly bear.  In front of witnesses, the bear jumped Jedediah and pinned him to the ground.  With one swing of its giant paw, the bear ripped open Jedediah’s side, breaking several of his ribs in the process; again, Jedediah survived.

In 1825, after four profitable years trapping the upper Missouri, Ashley sold his company to Jedediah Smith, David E. Jackson and William L. Sublette.  By 1830, the new partners had made sizeable fortunes in the fur trade and sold their company to Tom Fitzpatrick, Milton Sublette (William’s brother), Jim Bridger, Henry Fraeb, and John Baptiste Gervais. These five men formed what would become known as the Rocky Mountain Fur Company. In 1830, Smith retired from the fur trading business and on October 11, returned to St. Louis with over 17,000 dollars, almost half a million in today’s dollars.

In 1827, traveling with eighteen men and two women, Jedediah crossed the Mojave Desert on his way to the California coast.  At the Colorado River, the party was attacked by the Mojave Indians who killed ten of the men and took the two women; once again, Jedediah survived.

 In 1831 Jedediah was leading a supply train along the Santa Fe Trail when he left the group to scout for water; he never returned.  Later, when some of his possessions were discovered being peddled by a Mexican street vendor in Santa Fe, it was learned that he had been attacked by band of Comanche hunters and killed; he was 32 years old.

James Beckwourth

James Pierson Beckwourth (April 6, 1798 – October 29, 1866) was an African American who was born into slavery and lived with the Crow Indians for many years and eventually became a war chief.  He is credited with the discovery of Beckwourth Pass in the Sierra Nevada Mountains.  Although Beckwourth was hired by the Rocky Mountain Fur Company, he sold his furs to the competing company of John Jacob Astor and as a result, his contract with the RMFC was not renewed.  As a Crow war chief Beckwourth fought against other tribes and some white settlements.  Later, as a guide for military excursions he fought against some of his own tribe.  It seems that his allegiance was available to the highest bidder and he died a lonely man.  On the trail as a guide, he suddenly developed severe headaches followed by an unstoppable nose bleed.  He bled to death near Denver, CO, in 1866.

Jim Bridger

Jim Bridger (1804 – 1881) was another early mountain man.  He was included in that first group of the RMFC and is described as being tall and lank with a countenance that was “frank and kind, albeit uncouth, uneducated and without a trace of modern refinement.”  He was known to be bold and fearless and explored most of the land between the Missouri River and the west coast.  In his later years, he established a trading post on Block’s Fork of the Green River and, unlike many of his peers, managed to amass substantial holdings for himself.  His trading post became one of the famous “Rendezvous” where most of the mountain men met each year to carouse and gamble away all their earnings.  If you have seen one of the many movies that have been made about wealthy Europeans and their large entourages of servants arriving in the West and hiring guides to lead them on “hunts,” that guide was Jim Bridger.

Andrew Whitley Sublette (1900- 1854) helped established a trading post in 1835 near Platteville, CO.  After selling the trading post in 1840, Andrew left the mountains and was seen in El Pueblo (Pueblo, CO) around 1844 and 1845 traveling along the Arkansas River, following herds of buffalo.  He was killed in an encounter with a grizzly bear in Southern California in 1854. Sources variously place the site of his death as Santa Monica Canyon or nearby Malibu Canyon.

Jim Baker

Jim Baker (1818-1898) was a late arrival to mountaineering, and started his career working for John Jacob Astor and the American Fur Company where he met Jim Bridger.  He was considered the best hunter of his time and is described as “scarred from scalp to moccasin by the battles he has fought and won over bears and Indians.”  He was reputed to have lost nine thousand dollars worth of pelts playing “Spanish Monte” during one of the yearly rendezvous’. 

In 1841, on a journey with Captain Frapp along the “Little Snake River” the party of 35 was ambushed by a large band of Sioux, Cheyenne, and Arapaho Indians at Bitter Creek.  Frapp was killed early in the fighting and Baker assumed command.  It was a desperate fight, but the small group was successful in beating off the attack.  Jim was married no less than six times, each to an Indian squaw.  He lived with the tribes and adopted their ways and customs

After the Civil War, a friend presented Jim with a new “Henry” rifle and while practicing with it, the magazine exploded and tore one side of his face away.  Doctors sewed the mangled mess back together but the scarring was severe.  When Hall asked him, during an interview, about the scars, Jim said “Well, you see, I got one of them new repeatin’ rifles and the first shot I fired the damned thing bust and split my jaw.”

John "Liver-Eating" Johnson

John “Liver-Eating” Johnson (1824-1900) was a latecomer to the fur trapping trade and came to the mountains when the fur trade was in rapid decline.  His real name was John Garrison and he is reported to have been 6 feet tall and weighing over 200 pounds.  Some say, in 1846, he found himself in the United States Navy when the government commandeered the ship on which he was working.  Soon after, he struck an officer and deserted to the mountains, changing his name to Johnson.

Johnson was a loner who operated independently of the fur companies and is the man who was portrayed in the movie “Jeremiah Johnson.”  “Jeremiah” carried on a twelve year vendetta against the Crow Indians, blaming them for the death of his Indian wife. John “Jeremiah” Johnson lived out his life in Wyoming and Montana and is buried in Cody, Wyoming.

John Colter Monument

John Colter (1774-1812) was also one of the first mountain men and was a member of the Lewis and Clark Expedition.  In 1809, he teamed up with John Potts, another member of the Lewis and Clark Expedition and traveled to the Three Forks region of Montana.  While canoeing up the Jefferson River the two men were accosted by several hundred Blackfeet Indians who demanded that they come ashore.  Colter complied, but Potts remained in the canoe and was fired upon and mortally wounded by the Indians.

As depicted in the movie “A Man Called Horse,” Colter was stripped naked by his captors and given the chance to run for his life.  After a few miles, Colter had left most of the braves in the distance, but one had kept up the pace.  Luckily, Colter was able to overpower and kill the brave, gaining a blanket for his effort.  After hiding in a beaver lodge during the day, he emerged at night and walked eleven days to a trading post on the Little Big Horn; this event came to be known as “Colter’s Run.”  The next year, two of John’s partners were killed by the Blackfeet Indians and that convinced him to retire.  John Colter returned to St. Louis where he died from unknown causes two years later.

George W. Ebbert

George Wood  Ebbert (1810–1890) worked for the Hudson Bay Fur Company and along with his friend Joseph Meek, was instrumental in opening up the Oregon Trail.  George joined William Sublette when they purchased Henry Ashley’s fur company and ended up being a part owner.  In August 1830, he was bought out as a partner of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company by a group including Jedediah Smith.  Later as a contract fur trapper, he worked for the Hudson’s Bay Company between 1833 and 1836, arriving in the Oregon Country in 1833.

Jackson Hole, Wyoming

 David Edward Jackson (1788-1837) was an American pioneer, explorer, trader, and fur trapper.  He was one of those who opened the Oregon Trail having explored many connecting valleys in his life as a trapper. By 1826 Jackson bought a majority position in the three year old Rocky Mountain Fur Company.  Jackson Hole in Wyoming is named after him.

Joe Meek

Joseph Lafayette "Joe" Meek (1810–1875) was a trapper, law enforcement official, and politician in the Oregon Country.  Meek married “Virginia,” the daughter of Nez Perce chief Kowesota.  He and Virginia had several children including a ten year old daughter who was killed in the Whitman Massacre of 1847.  Meek later became the chief law enforcement officer of the Oregon Territory and presided over the conviction and hanging of the five Cayuse and Umatilla Indians responsible for his daughter’s death.

These are just a small sample of the many mountain men who traipsed across this country between 1810 and 1840.  Many of those who came with them never made it and died alone, either killed by Indians, mauled by bears or frozen on a mountain top and it is a sure thing that their bones are scattered across the rugged terrain where they plied their trade.  They all belonged to the same fraternity of trappers, Indian fighters and explorers, and they all knew each other on some level.  Many were close friends and all had lost close friends battling the native Indians and the elements.  Several had close encounters with Grizzly bears, some coming out victorious and others, not.  With few exceptions, they were loners who could not tolerate towns or any civilization for long periods of time.  On the whole, they were big men, many over six feet tall, a definite asset in the wilderness where the likelihood of hand to hand combat was an ever present possibility.  They were rough, tough, and brave, mostly uneducated, and drank & cussed their way through life.  Most of them gambled away their earnings during the yearly rendezvous’ and when the fur market collapsed in 1840, many established trading posts or became trail guides for the influx of settlers heading west.  There’s was a unique time in the history of America.