jodywy
Well-known member
Why we don't rope and drag , couple neighbors, and family come help and Sue is not in the kitchen cooking $1000 worth of food.
Branding day
- Thread starter webfoot
- Start date
Nicky
Well-known member
I agree
Even at the bigger brandings here we don't get that many people or feed that well. A big pot of homemade chili or beef stew along with corn bread. Some cake and cookies for dessert. I don't drink but I notice the amount of beer is limited too. It is pretty much just the neighbors who come. Very little outside help. I think limiting the beer and food also serves to limit who will show up. So you just get the neighbors who want you to come help at their branding.
Older Whiskey
Well-known member
I grew up with community brandings that got so large, the meals were potluck and held at the Grange Hall, but that came to a halt as it ended up way too much work for a select few. Too many standing around like they were watching a rodeo.
I haven't been to a branding in several years since I would just be in the way and create problems due to health. The last one I went to, had a lot of small acreage horse people that came just to rope and talk rodeo. Now, the ranchers around here keep it quiet since only a few know what they are doing. The same for fall roundup. Lots of folks want to come and ride, but have little clue what they are doing.
Older Whiskey
Well-known member
This is the way my family did it on the large Texas ranch. No corrals, just a large stock tank and windmill. Even though my immediate family did corral branding and used corrals for working cattle, it was always calm. The stereotypical "cowboys" were banned. No thundering hoofs, cracking whips, fancy horsemanship, rodeo attitude, crowding, or even whistling was allowed.
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Older Whiskey
Well-known member
This story isn't about branding, but learning patience working cattle.
The Old Indian Pony
by Faye
I remember the summer of 1970 when old Joe, whom was suffering health issues, decided to sell off all his cattle and just keep his 22-year-old horse. Joe had a small hogan that he lived in and his Trading Post was in another hogan by the two-lane highway. He made what little money he needed selling snacks, cold drinks, and ice cream to the tourist. The nearest towns were 30 miles in either direction. One set of my grandparents owned the neighboring ranch. Near his Hogan, he had an old pole corral with a ten-foot long pole gate. No fencing to funnel the cattle into the corral, just open the gate and the cows always came in to eat hay. Never a problem in the fall pushing the cattle to these winter grounds where hay awaited.
Joe made the decision to sell off all his cattle and donate his rangeland to the Ute tribe since he was Ute and the Rez bordered his land. Joe was unable to ride, so he insisted I ride his horse as it knew the drill. A couple of older ladies from the Rez came to help with their aged horses. They both wore leather split skirts and were so patient, kind, and entertaining. They never seemed to get hot or thirsty. It was mid-summer.
It never occurred to me that this wouldn't be a quick and easy operation. Pushing the cattle down to the lower pasture wasn't the problem. The problem started as the cattle approached the open corral gate. They turned and faced us. Joe and my grandparents stood by the gate chatting like they hadn't visited for ten years. They visited almost every day, year-round, for years on end.
After over thirty minutes of facing off with the cows, finally, one old girl goes in to try some hay and get a drink of water from the trough. Over the next thirty minutes, all the others meandered in at their own pace. Still talking like long-lost friends with my grandparents, Joe shuts the gate. None too soon for me suffering a dry canteen and a painful bladder. I now understand why Joe insisted I ride his horse. Any other horse would have become antsy like its young rider.
It was the old mares' last trip working cattle. She died that fall and Joe died shortly after.
The Old Indian Pony
by Faye
I remember the summer of 1970 when old Joe, whom was suffering health issues, decided to sell off all his cattle and just keep his 22-year-old horse. Joe had a small hogan that he lived in and his Trading Post was in another hogan by the two-lane highway. He made what little money he needed selling snacks, cold drinks, and ice cream to the tourist. The nearest towns were 30 miles in either direction. One set of my grandparents owned the neighboring ranch. Near his Hogan, he had an old pole corral with a ten-foot long pole gate. No fencing to funnel the cattle into the corral, just open the gate and the cows always came in to eat hay. Never a problem in the fall pushing the cattle to these winter grounds where hay awaited.
Joe made the decision to sell off all his cattle and donate his rangeland to the Ute tribe since he was Ute and the Rez bordered his land. Joe was unable to ride, so he insisted I ride his horse as it knew the drill. A couple of older ladies from the Rez came to help with their aged horses. They both wore leather split skirts and were so patient, kind, and entertaining. They never seemed to get hot or thirsty. It was mid-summer.
It never occurred to me that this wouldn't be a quick and easy operation. Pushing the cattle down to the lower pasture wasn't the problem. The problem started as the cattle approached the open corral gate. They turned and faced us. Joe and my grandparents stood by the gate chatting like they hadn't visited for ten years. They visited almost every day, year-round, for years on end.
After over thirty minutes of facing off with the cows, finally, one old girl goes in to try some hay and get a drink of water from the trough. Over the next thirty minutes, all the others meandered in at their own pace. Still talking like long-lost friends with my grandparents, Joe shuts the gate. None too soon for me suffering a dry canteen and a painful bladder. I now understand why Joe insisted I ride his horse. Any other horse would have become antsy like its young rider.
It was the old mares' last trip working cattle. She died that fall and Joe died shortly after.
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Puzzled
Well-known member
How long is the average rope they use ?
Older Whiskey
Well-known member
50 to 60 feet. In the video, they used the braided rawhide or reata that come in either 55 or 60 feet. I liked 55' for range and 35' for corral. That part of Oregon is Big Loop country and they have a rodeo every year. I think Webfoot goes to it. I think the rules say they have to have 25' in the loop and your rope is marked, so no guess work.
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jodywy
Well-known member
one of the banks here will come cook steaks,the ffa teacher caters dutch oven
I have met some of the Stotter family. They are down in the Jordan Valley country. Big big open country. Some of the youngsters I have met from down there may be a touch wild west if you know what I mean. I have been to a couple Rodear brandings I really liked them. It is a different pace.
jodywy
Well-known member
Ladies! Let me paint a picture in your mind for just a second. It's branding or shipping season, you have around 25 helping hands coming, and there's that big undertaking ahead of you, that pressure and all that work to get enough food ready. Those early mornings, all that time on your feet… What if I told you that you could take a break and actually enjoy the day and visit, and the food would be taken care of? Thats right! Let us take care of that task for you so that you can enjoy that time.
Now cowboys, wouldn't you want your woman there watching you rope and drag and wrestle that calf? Thats macho you know! You'd have one proud woman watching you. So give us a call! Hugh does a fantastic job and the food is amazing! Keep him in mind the next time you need a break or a guaranteed night on the town because her cowboy is THAT good! I know mine is! Call for a quote today! And enjoy some photos of just a few of the many meals he's knocked out of this world. https://www.facebook.com/alyssa.jenkins.507027 (there pictures)
Now cowboys, wouldn't you want your woman there watching you rope and drag and wrestle that calf? Thats macho you know! You'd have one proud woman watching you. So give us a call! Hugh does a fantastic job and the food is amazing! Keep him in mind the next time you need a break or a guaranteed night on the town because her cowboy is THAT good! I know mine is! Call for a quote today! And enjoy some photos of just a few of the many meals he's knocked out of this world. https://www.facebook.com/alyssa.jenkins.507027 (there pictures)
A lot of the women here are in the pen roping. One branding I went to this year he pulled a gas grill out of his pickup and went to cooking burgers. Several boxes of those personal size bags of assorted chip. That was the meal. A cooler with an assortment of soda, beer, and water to wash your burger down with. His lady has a town job and was no where in sight. Paper plates got tossed in the fire when we were done eating. Easy clean up.
Puzzled
Well-known member
Who furnishes the steaks?
Older Whiskey
Well-known member
Range roping in the rocky brushy area of Arizona. A rock footed horse and various length ropes come in handy. Also rattlesnakes can add to the excitement. Here is a life long rancher cousin (RIP) that shows the hold used. Notice the rope leaving his horn into the brush and then coming back and on the front leg. You rope the front leg, take the rope around a sturdy bush, then go behind the cow and dally so you can get the right tension just to lift the front leg off the ground.
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