Yesterday was one of the “big” days we experience in the year by year rotation of events on the cattleman’s calendar. Though anticipated and carefully planned for, it is one of those days we aspire to see in our “rear view mirror”. This particular fall day is full day of vaccination procedures for this year’s new heifer and steer calves as well as their mothers. The morning is spent herding in the entire bunch from the pastures followed by a meticulous separation of mothers from calves and then heifer calves from steer calves,
which is why Doug and Rick have built on all those extra pens in the corral structure. Each group will receive their appropriate vaccinations followed by the crowning procedure of the day , that of “preg-checking” each cow for a growing calf. This procedure, accomplished by the Vet, brings on all the anticipation of any expectant parent. Words that describe our feelings at this moment may be: excitement, anticipation, hope, anxiety. There is a great deal that rides on the outcome of this day; our dreams and hopes for the next year’s crop are declared right here and now. It’s Santa coming down the chimney; will he bring goodies or lumps of coal?
Fall this year in our “Gentile Valley” has been so beautiful.
The days start out cool with the afternoons warming to shirt sleeve weather.
There has been no rain to speak of save a few passing storms that have amounted to a splash and a sprinkle here and there. So imagine our surprise, and then our horror as the extended weather report predicted a plummeting of the temperatures on the Saturday of our operations, to be accompanied by 80-100 percent chance of rain mixed with snow. Surely, this couldn’t happen to us on this chosen day? A day scheduled with the Vet months ago, a day that is set and fixed, a day that must go through - like the mail does - come hail, hell, or high water.
Adding to this startling weather prediction was another even more troubling development. Rick (Doug’s son and partner) had been suffering for the past three days with a pain in his gut, perhaps stemming from a horse injury several years ago, in the which the horse had toppled backwards on top of him and pressed the saddle horn into his stomach, right across his large belt buckle, bending that buckle into a crease but perhaps saving Rick from deeper injury. That accident had cost Rick a bowel resection and a long recovery. With these new pains, and Rick resting in bed, came great anxiety for his welfare, not to mention the fact we would not have his vital backbone support for the big day. What would we do without him?
There were other friends whom Doug and Rick had contacted to come help us out. Eric Harris, and Kayla Bitton, both “long time” close family connections to Doug and familiar faces whenever there is a big job to be done around here.
Kayla brought her own horse, driving on hour this morning from Paris, Idaho, and had dressed with several layers of clothing to weather the stormy day. Reed Gappmeyer, our teenage ranch help these past two summers, was here with his smile on, and Jason Curtis, a fellow Thatcher rancher, rounding out the cowhand bunch. Last but not least, my neice Holly Bangerter Reynolds was here with four cute daughters: Grace -15, Danielle -12, Liv - 8, and Sylvie -6.
Her husband Joe and son, Isaac, had opted for deer hunting this weekend. I warned Holly it wouldn’t be pretty, but she cheerfully agreed to take part in whatever may come.
Friday afternoon, I found my Doug, bowed over his desk in what looked like a deep sleep or concentration. I spoke his name and asked what he was doing. “I’m praying. I don’t think we’ll have enough help tomorrow. I don’t know what we’ll do without Rick.” Wrapping my arms around his chest, I whispered an assurance that we girls would stick by him all day. “It will be okay.” He nodded.
Having prepared all the food for our lunch a day in advance, I would be able to help with the cows. And Holly, an able bodied nurse like me, would be handy with the injections.
Saturday morning dawned and I looked at the thermometer and was instantly shocked. 44 degrees? Whatever happened to the teen temperatures predicted and high of mid 30’s? Sure enough, the weather app assured me of precipitation, 80% and beyond for the entire day; said it was supposed to be precipitating right now. Our morning prayers continued for petitions that it might be otherwise. Breakfast was a cheery affair of standard buttermilk pancakes with Holly and the girls.
Now it was time for dressing in layers of warmth: flannel lined overalls for Holly, bib snow overalls for me and the the girls. Morning chores were accomplished with the girls in tow: Chickens, dog and cats fed, and wood gathered for the stoves. But where was our precipitation? Holly and I made our way to the corrals, standing ready for our instructions.
She took on the hypodermic needle and I clasped the "dewormer" solution to be sprayed on the cows’ backs. And here was Rick, in standup form for his vital assistance, his wife Heather at the ready with her record book and their two children, Brooklyn and Weston, with their prodding poles. Ready, set, go.
First came the steers down the alley and individually into the shute to receive their ministrations. Everyone and everything worked in tandem. Reed, and Kayla on her horse, herded the critters round,
the kids did the prodding and yelling up the alley aided by Jason and Doug,
Holly and I administered our medicines, Rick and Eric opened and closed the shute gates, and Heather recorded it all.
It was lunchtime. We enjoyed a lunch of soup and stew with rolls and Heather’s snicker-apple salad. After our morning’s work it was obvious we didn’t need to scrutinize the grey skies any longer; It didn’t matter how ominous they looked, they weren’t going to touch us. In the nearby hills and mountains we could see where the weather was unloading, but not on us. I traded my bibs for jeans, my muckers for cowgirl boots, and ditched my wraparound neck scarf. Instead of a snow cap, I donned a ball cap and got ready for part two.
Now it was heifer calves turn and each received the state required "bangs vaccine" along with an electronic ear button and a permant ink ear tatoo, all of these given by the Vet. Mama cows came next and we enjoyed chatting with the Vet, JB Bollar, who utilizes a great little ultrasound device equipped with a screen for detecting pregnancy.
We got some good education on viewing the screen and had a great time in the increasingly warmer afternoon, where the sun began to peek through in greater doses and splashes of light. We had to pause at one point so the guys could repair the alleyway which had been efficiently knocked down and jumped over by a determined mother cow.
After all was said and done, there were seven “open”, or no pregnancy cows out of about 131, a little disappointing, as these cows will now have to be sold and the herd balanced out in other ways.
The afternoon flew by, to the tune of Jason Curtis’s teasing laughter, Doug’s smiles of contentment, Kayla, on her horse, exclaiming how happy she was to be so warm today, considering her expectations otherwise. Rick stood on his own two feet directing the entire show, the shute head gates clanged and sang with Eric's expert hand,
the children climbed the corral fences, prodded and slapped and yelled at the cows, and then it was all over.
Holly and I gathered up the children and sat in a spot of sun behind the barn while they waited for their turn to ride “Clyde”.
The air was still and the afternoon sun warmed our faces against a backdrop of storm clouds. We were soooo tired, but it was just so nice to sit here and take it all in.
It was unbelievable, but it was true; today had been a day of answered prayers and miracles. It was undeniable, plain as the noses on our faces; we had just received a bestowal of blessings.
It caused me reflection about the "how" and the "why" it came to be. It hit me fully this morning. There had been a magical mixture of something precious, but maybe not so rare in our neck of the woods. In the pot went prayer, kindly friends, dedicated family, each possessing this thing called love. The whole concoction was stirred with the spoon of unselfish goodness. So we watched a miracle, and received for ourselves a heavenly gift.
"And it came to pass in the thirty and sixth year....there were no contentions and disputations among them; and every man did deal justly one with another. And they had all things common among them; therefore there were not rich and poor, bond and free, but they were all made free, and partakers of the heavenly gift”.
4Nephi: 3, 4
Book of Mormon
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