DARE TO DANCE WITH A COWBOY
Summer 2017
I’m learning that the “dance of the cowboy” is less about cows and more about guts. It’s not what you may think. You can talk about boots, spurs, chaps and cowboy hats, you can talk about driving them doggies all day long, you can talk about herding and corralling and branding and bringing that rope down just in the nick of time, and you can talk the tough talk, too. But when you’re talking GUTS, you will have to learn the “cowboy dance”. Anyone who cares to get into that particular arena will be dancing something like this: One step forward with inspiration, two steps back with perspiration, swing to the right with motivation, listen to the music with examination, then click your heels with anticipation. After that you can wahtootsee up and down to this drumming rhythm: “hold on to your patience, hold on to your patience, hold on to your patience”. Which the cowboy had best do: Patience is his dance partner.
The summer of ’17 brought new meaning to the rhythm of the dance. It is no wonder that winter time is Doug’s favorite. Now hold your hat, because the story of this past summer’s goings on will take you for a wild ride. And yet….I am beginning only just now to believe: it’s not only normal, it’s very much expected.
The Baler Cable
Why does every story start with cutting and baling hay? Because that’s what summer IS.
Last spring and summer the grass and hay were especially lush due to the deep winter snows that prevailed over much of the winter, notwithstanding the flooding it caused, not just in our valley but in far reaching places of Idaho and Utah.
This meant the hay crop was going to be a good one. It was June 26 when Doug set to work with his round baler. One minute he was into a good rhythm, and in the next minute he watched in horror as the monitor exploded off the dash. Doug actually thought the monitor had exploded like a bomb and he could not find it! After searching, he found it wedged under the tractor seat. Doug got out to take a closer look. Somehow, the bundle of intricate tiny electrical wires that form a cable from the tractor to the baler, had snagged and then caught into the rotating shaft. They weren’t just snagged, they were wound tight, smashed flat and meshed so tightly into the shaft they could not be pried out with the human hand. Doug hauled the baler down to the barnyard, and came in for lunch with this tale of doom. I went out with Doug to take a look. I felt compelled with compassion to stand by and watch as he cut with a straight edged tool and pulled with needle nose pliers to remove the wires from the shaft. I stood there with water as sweat dripped from Doug’s body in the heat of the afternoon. Before long there was nothing but a pile of colored spaghetti scraps in the dirt. That job accomplished, we came back into the house. Doug got online to find out prices to replace a cable and monitor for his baler. All fine and dandy if you don’t mind a price tag of $4,000. After spending a fretful evening over the matter, bedtime approached but with no relief for Doug’s troubles. His dreams turned an ugly color, where he roamed the valleys looking for a baler like his, and finding one, sneaking from it the good wiring, and leaving behind a replacement of shredded colored spaghetti.
In the pale dawn light I looked over at Doug with his eyes trained on the ceiling. Without me asking, he answered my silent question. “There’s a name in my head, and it’s ‘Steve Criddle’”. The name had a hold on his mind until he realized why. He got up from bed and went to look up a number. Steve Criddle lives about forty miles west of us, a rancher who Doug had met at one of those barbecue socials for the Association. Informal chit chat over a year ago had revealed the fact that Steve had the same baler as Doug, yup. But, Steve said, it caught fire and burned up last year. Funny thing though, the cable and monitor were virtually unscathed, and still sitting out in that burned up old baler.
The entire conversation played across Doug’s brain in detail. He had nothing more to do but call up Steve, who told him, sure, the cable is still sitting out there; come and get it. Doug drove out, and trying to come up with a price, Steve suggested Doug try it out first, then talk price later. Doug drove home with a practically new cable replacement. This sounds too good to be true, but it was all good and it was all true. What was also true is that Doug had to wire up the cable of wires (21 very little color coded wires) to the baler’s connections. ( I can think of so many scriptures that have application here, you know, where the Lord has answered your prayers, and then he expects you to figure out some of the problem on your own. Mostly it’s poor Nephi I’m thinking of…. but then there’s the Brother of Jared….) Any which way, Doug knows these scriptures by heart and he stopped in at Stoz Implement in Preston to get a paper of instructions to all the color codes for rewiring.
Back at the ranch, he and Rick settled in splicing and connecting wires; it was detailed work and took hours long. The moment of truth came when the tractor was turned on and the baler engaged with most of the monitor functions working, excepting one very important one. A couple of reconnections later and everything worked; and it worked all summer long. It was magic! It was miraculous! But there had been a lot of dancing. The first step: Inspiration.
Our lives are a living lesson in a reality of opposition in ALL things. On our ranch we take that to mean there is more equipment to break down soon, all of it, in quick succession. The 756 International that pulls the baler ( you can count back or look it up, it’s an antique that runs very well) required new tires, replacing the rotted ones. Bearings on the baler had to be replaced, not once, but three times. A big tire on the swather went flat.
The 1466 International tractor, in use on the ranch since 2002, began an ominous clunking sound when moving forward. Valley Implement in Preston said they would take $9,000 off our hands to fix it; Doug sold it instead for $3,000.
The baler’s bundle of electric wiring came apart again one day when a big ball of hay entwined itself in the wires that Doug had so carefully secluded out of harm’s way, requiring another go‘round reconnecting project. These problems were but ordinary fodder for the ordinary day, not even closely approaching the intricate steps of “the cowboy dance”. There is always a way to remedy that, and God knows how.
Across from our house on the north is a hillside with a big slice out of the top from a mud slide back in ’83. A county road runs adjacent to the hill where an abundance of snow accumulated last winter, followed by rain.
In spring, our hillside showed the drastic effects of the winter moisture and revealed grotesque shapes of slumps, sloughs, and heaving mounds.
It caused the road in front of our house to slant horribly. Underneath the road was moosh, making it difficult to grade the road, and impossible to drive on one side of it.
The only good news, according to geologists who came to examine, was that the hill would not slide on top of us. When fall rolled around and the ground thoroughly dried, the county began moving dirt off the hill, decreasing the pressure on underground springs.
This work took many weeks, and Doug decided to get in on the fun and began pushing and hauling dirt around with his New Holland tractor.
The Tractor
As well as opposition in life, there is also the certainty of mistakes. Mistakes can cause some suffering, but if we knew we were making a mistake, we would never learn to not make it again. So we must first learn. Doug learned that putting this stress on his good tractor would bust the gears in the front hub and the front axle and lock up the front tires. Doug dragged the tractor to the barnyard and tore it all apart, removed the hub and broken pinion gears, cleaned it all up, and replaced it with new pinion gears. He took the tractor for a spin. One of the new pins kept coming out. Back to work Doug got. He removed the hub and gears and put a substance called “Lock-tight” on the pin, shoved it into the hole, replacing the pinion gears and putting the hub back on. He took the tractor for another spin. The pin did not hold. Doug got back to work removing the hub and pinion gears and this time welded the pin into the hub; lastly he replaced the pinion gears and put the hub back on. (This repetition reminds me of a song I learned in grade school: “There’s a wing on the bird and the bird in the nest and the nest on the tree and the tree in hole and the hole in the ground”, etc. etc. After singing the tractor song for a while maybe I will learn what pinion gears, splines, hubs and pins really are). All held good for a day or two, but while pushing fence line, the pin busted loose and came out; and this time, all the pinion gears and splines broke again, and the axle too. Care to dance?
It was time for a new hub, new pinion gears, new bolts, new pins and a new front axle. Doug made a trip to Preston to get new tractor parts and study the tractor manual at Valley Implement and to confer with the management on how to remove the old axle. They said, “Oh, it just slips out and you will probably need a new O-ring, too.” Back at the ranch, methods were employed to loosen the axle. It was not, however, just “slipping out”. Doug lubricated it, hammered it, and then hitched it up to a “come along” which moved, not the axle, but the entire tractor along. Doug got Rick’s tractor and attached a chain to it, effectually holding his tractor still. Exerting all the force possible with the “come along”, the axle still refused to budge until Doug began tapping it gently with a hammer and it finally gave way.
Now it was time to slide the new axle with the new O-ring into its housing, but it would not slide in! Doug and Rick shoved with all their might, then hammered and clobbered away with a sledge hammer; still it would not move in. Doug drove to Preston again to look at the manual and talk things over. Perhaps the O-ring first prescribed was too large and a smaller size needed?? Home he got with the new O-ring and exchanged it with the other. The axle slid like butter into its housing and the tractor was pronounced fixed. This dance had lasted the better part of one month at a cost of over $2,000.
Hay Rakes
In the beginning of the summer Doug knew he would need to replace his hay rake. He needed to find one that could rake larger “windrows” to gather hay more efficiently. He had tried out one set before buying and discovered that they had a warped frame and sent them back. Towards the end of summer he finally found another set, in the price range he might afford, at AgriService in Logan. He called to verify the rakes were there and he and Rick took a trip to Logan to see them. A voice in his mind told him to buy the rakes now. He did not do it. (I think he was busy thinking about the costs of axles and pinion gears). A month passed, he thought about the rakes again and this time he was in earnest to buy. But when Doug called about them, he was told they were tagged with someone’s name. His heart sank and he mourned the loss of a good deal, also mourning his slow uptake to buy them. One afternoon after attending the temple in Logan, we dropped in at AgriService to look at the spoken-for rakes. Doug went in and inquired if they were really spoken for? The salesman went back, made a phone call and returned saying he was told to sell them to the first paying customer. Doug stood there with check in hand and became that first paying customer. Just another miracle, and a lesson, in being a “first time” listener to that voice in his mind.
There had been so many gifts of the Lord’s kindness this year. So many times He had shown the way and given courage. There had been individuals conveniently placed before us who played a helping hand with unselfish goodness. Now it was Doug’s turn to return that kindness and he got his opportunity the day he answered a phone call responding to the sale of his old hay rakes. It was an elderly gentleman from down south in Emery, Utah. The man said he sure wanted to buy those rakes and would send a check right now, but couldn’t come to retrieve the rakes until one month hence. Doug, a softie for old cowboys, painstakingly gave the man his address and told him the rakes were his and he would await a check in the mail. Doug had cause for concern because the man seemed to have trouble transcribing the address correctly. Days passed and no check. In the meanwhile….many persons called about the rakes; persons who lived close by and who wished to pick them up today, or tomorrow, or yesterday, so earnest were they in their desire to obtain them. Doug just told them they were already spoken for. More days passed and still no check. Doug called the gentleman, inquiring about the check; the man said he had mailed it the day they had first spoken. Doug instructed him to put a “stop payment” on the presumed lost check, and pay when it came time to collect the rakes. Two weeks later, on a Saturday, just after noon, the man arrived, together with son and two grandsons, having left at four in the morning pulling their flat bed trailer. These were some happy, grateful souls, and it was a pleasure to meet them, to shake their hands and send them on their way with their hay rakes, and a loaf of banana bread.
The Cowboy Dance goes on and on. It is gratifying to watch how that dance can become a beautiful thing. The dance, after all, can be extremely satisfying, can be uplifting, even. Looking back on a dance can restore belief in fellow cowboys, in the Love of God, and, it will also tell the story of who the cowboy really is.
I dare you to dance with a cowboy.
THE END
Summer 2017
I’m learning that the “dance of the cowboy” is less about cows and more about guts. It’s not what you may think. You can talk about boots, spurs, chaps and cowboy hats, you can talk about driving them doggies all day long, you can talk about herding and corralling and branding and bringing that rope down just in the nick of time, and you can talk the tough talk, too. But when you’re talking GUTS, you will have to learn the “cowboy dance”. Anyone who cares to get into that particular arena will be dancing something like this: One step forward with inspiration, two steps back with perspiration, swing to the right with motivation, listen to the music with examination, then click your heels with anticipation. After that you can wahtootsee up and down to this drumming rhythm: “hold on to your patience, hold on to your patience, hold on to your patience”. Which the cowboy had best do: Patience is his dance partner.
The summer of ’17 brought new meaning to the rhythm of the dance. It is no wonder that winter time is Doug’s favorite. Now hold your hat, because the story of this past summer’s goings on will take you for a wild ride. And yet….I am beginning only just now to believe: it’s not only normal, it’s very much expected.
The Baler Cable
Why does every story start with cutting and baling hay? Because that’s what summer IS.
The entire conversation played across Doug’s brain in detail. He had nothing more to do but call up Steve, who told him, sure, the cable is still sitting out there; come and get it. Doug drove out, and trying to come up with a price, Steve suggested Doug try it out first, then talk price later. Doug drove home with a practically new cable replacement. This sounds too good to be true, but it was all good and it was all true. What was also true is that Doug had to wire up the cable of wires (21 very little color coded wires) to the baler’s connections. ( I can think of so many scriptures that have application here, you know, where the Lord has answered your prayers, and then he expects you to figure out some of the problem on your own. Mostly it’s poor Nephi I’m thinking of…. but then there’s the Brother of Jared….) Any which way, Doug knows these scriptures by heart and he stopped in at Stoz Implement in Preston to get a paper of instructions to all the color codes for rewiring.
Our lives are a living lesson in a reality of opposition in ALL things. On our ranch we take that to mean there is more equipment to break down soon, all of it, in quick succession. The 756 International that pulls the baler ( you can count back or look it up, it’s an antique that runs very well) required new tires, replacing the rotted ones. Bearings on the baler had to be replaced, not once, but three times. A big tire on the swather went flat.
The 1466 International tractor, in use on the ranch since 2002, began an ominous clunking sound when moving forward. Valley Implement in Preston said they would take $9,000 off our hands to fix it; Doug sold it instead for $3,000.
Across from our house on the north is a hillside with a big slice out of the top from a mud slide back in ’83. A county road runs adjacent to the hill where an abundance of snow accumulated last winter, followed by rain.
The Tractor
As well as opposition in life, there is also the certainty of mistakes. Mistakes can cause some suffering, but if we knew we were making a mistake, we would never learn to not make it again. So we must first learn. Doug learned that putting this stress on his good tractor would bust the gears in the front hub and the front axle and lock up the front tires. Doug dragged the tractor to the barnyard and tore it all apart, removed the hub and broken pinion gears, cleaned it all up, and replaced it with new pinion gears. He took the tractor for a spin. One of the new pins kept coming out. Back to work Doug got. He removed the hub and gears and put a substance called “Lock-tight” on the pin, shoved it into the hole, replacing the pinion gears and putting the hub back on. He took the tractor for another spin. The pin did not hold. Doug got back to work removing the hub and pinion gears and this time welded the pin into the hub; lastly he replaced the pinion gears and put the hub back on. (This repetition reminds me of a song I learned in grade school: “There’s a wing on the bird and the bird in the nest and the nest on the tree and the tree in hole and the hole in the ground”, etc. etc. After singing the tractor song for a while maybe I will learn what pinion gears, splines, hubs and pins really are). All held good for a day or two, but while pushing fence line, the pin busted loose and came out; and this time, all the pinion gears and splines broke again, and the axle too. Care to dance?
It was time for a new hub, new pinion gears, new bolts, new pins and a new front axle. Doug made a trip to Preston to get new tractor parts and study the tractor manual at Valley Implement and to confer with the management on how to remove the old axle. They said, “Oh, it just slips out and you will probably need a new O-ring, too.” Back at the ranch, methods were employed to loosen the axle. It was not, however, just “slipping out”. Doug lubricated it, hammered it, and then hitched it up to a “come along” which moved, not the axle, but the entire tractor along. Doug got Rick’s tractor and attached a chain to it, effectually holding his tractor still. Exerting all the force possible with the “come along”, the axle still refused to budge until Doug began tapping it gently with a hammer and it finally gave way.Now it was time to slide the new axle with the new O-ring into its housing, but it would not slide in! Doug and Rick shoved with all their might, then hammered and clobbered away with a sledge hammer; still it would not move in. Doug drove to Preston again to look at the manual and talk things over. Perhaps the O-ring first prescribed was too large and a smaller size needed?? Home he got with the new O-ring and exchanged it with the other. The axle slid like butter into its housing and the tractor was pronounced fixed. This dance had lasted the better part of one month at a cost of over $2,000.
 |
| Doug helps out the county using their CAT after killing his tractor. |
Hay Rakes
In the beginning of the summer Doug knew he would need to replace his hay rake. He needed to find one that could rake larger “windrows” to gather hay more efficiently. He had tried out one set before buying and discovered that they had a warped frame and sent them back. Towards the end of summer he finally found another set, in the price range he might afford, at AgriService in Logan. He called to verify the rakes were there and he and Rick took a trip to Logan to see them. A voice in his mind told him to buy the rakes now. He did not do it. (I think he was busy thinking about the costs of axles and pinion gears). A month passed, he thought about the rakes again and this time he was in earnest to buy. But when Doug called about them, he was told they were tagged with someone’s name. His heart sank and he mourned the loss of a good deal, also mourning his slow uptake to buy them. One afternoon after attending the temple in Logan, we dropped in at AgriService to look at the spoken-for rakes. Doug went in and inquired if they were really spoken for? The salesman went back, made a phone call and returned saying he was told to sell them to the first paying customer. Doug stood there with check in hand and became that first paying customer. Just another miracle, and a lesson, in being a “first time” listener to that voice in his mind.
There had been so many gifts of the Lord’s kindness this year. So many times He had shown the way and given courage. There had been individuals conveniently placed before us who played a helping hand with unselfish goodness. Now it was Doug’s turn to return that kindness and he got his opportunity the day he answered a phone call responding to the sale of his old hay rakes. It was an elderly gentleman from down south in Emery, Utah. The man said he sure wanted to buy those rakes and would send a check right now, but couldn’t come to retrieve the rakes until one month hence. Doug, a softie for old cowboys, painstakingly gave the man his address and told him the rakes were his and he would await a check in the mail. Doug had cause for concern because the man seemed to have trouble transcribing the address correctly. Days passed and no check. In the meanwhile….many persons called about the rakes; persons who lived close by and who wished to pick them up today, or tomorrow, or yesterday, so earnest were they in their desire to obtain them. Doug just told them they were already spoken for. More days passed and still no check. Doug called the gentleman, inquiring about the check; the man said he had mailed it the day they had first spoken. Doug instructed him to put a “stop payment” on the presumed lost check, and pay when it came time to collect the rakes. Two weeks later, on a Saturday, just after noon, the man arrived, together with son and two grandsons, having left at four in the morning pulling their flat bed trailer. These were some happy, grateful souls, and it was a pleasure to meet them, to shake their hands and send them on their way with their hay rakes, and a loaf of banana bread.
I dare you to dance with a cowboy.
THE END
Really enjoyed the story and the analogy. I am exhausted though. 😀. Especially enjoy all of the pictures with your family. I am amazed at your match made in or even a match made by heaven itself with your cowboy.
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