Soapweed
Well-known member
1968, March 19, Tuesday Journal
I was compelled to arise at midnight and check cows. I wandered down to the barn about half asleep and stumbled through the heavies, playing my flashlight beam on each and every one. One heifer in the corral had a calf coming with one foot back, so I trotted to the house and woke up Dad. While waiting for him to dress and get down there, I got the heifer into the barn and put into the stanchion. We performed the operation, checked through the other cows, and hit the sack again at 1:30.
My alarm brought me around at 6:00. I climbed out of bed to a blizzardy sort of day. After breakfast, Lloyd grained the calves while Dad and I put a battery in the "crawler." It started without trouble, so we put gas in it.
Dad headed the "cat" north to the first stack yard, with Lloyd and I bounced along on the empty hay sled. We loaded on half a stack. Lloyd and I then started feeding cattle in the comparative shelter around the buildings and tree lots. Dad started up north in the four-wheeler to check around. He got stuck right away, so came back afoot and got a reliable form of transportation, his horse Penny. Lloyd and I fed the hay on the sled, so went inside to thaw out until Dad returned.
Dad had moved the cow bunch into the middle pasture and the heifers into the home meadow. I saddled Sassy and rode out to get the heifers on in to the "old bull lot." When I returned, Dad and Lloyd had finished their work in the barn, so we came in to an early dinner. I made up about twenty minutes of my lost sleep over the noon hour.
Dad took the pickup to the pasture north of the west meadow. Lloyd and I bucked the wind with the feeding outfit, having to stop now and then to pull Dad out of a deep spot. Blowing snow and mud kicked up by the cat didn't make my job as driver overly comfortable.
We pulled on most of a stack (loading twice), and fed the cows with little calves. They were getting along pretty fair, despite their lack of shelter. Better time was made going home because of a good strong tail wind.
At home, we warmed up a bit and went out to feed some more. We loaded two thirds of a stack, and fed the cows and heifers. A little more was also fed to the heavies and yearlings. I didn't help on this last bit, because I had to look for a lost pitchfork. I never did find the darn thing, but it will probably turn up—in a tire, most likely.
Lloyd and I got the heavies in. Dad and I sorted them while Lloyd fed the bulls. [Every night, we would get the heavies into the corral. Dad would "sort out" the ones most likely to calve that night. We would leave them in the corral and turn the rest out into the heavy lot. After supper, it was usually my job to "check the cows" before going to bed. These cows in the corral would be put into the barn on the coldest nights. As a rule, none of the "most likely" cows would calve, but invariably there would be one or two new babies out in the heavy lot that would have to be dealt with. It was not the greatest system, but that was how we did it. I empathize with Spike Van Cleve's assessment. He said about his relationship with his dad: "There were always three ways to do any task—the easy way, the hard way, and Dad's way, which made the hard way look plum easy." I concur.]
I was told to "put the pickup away" [as in the double garage just north of the house]. I got it stuck between the bunkhouse and the new garage [called "the Butler building"], so it will have to sit outside tonight. This was just one of the many incidents which helped to make the last 24 hours a very imperfect day.
Sybil went outside last night to help Dad check the cows. Sandra caught the urge to be out in a blizzard also, so the two of them accompanied Dad on his rounds tonight.
I was compelled to arise at midnight and check cows. I wandered down to the barn about half asleep and stumbled through the heavies, playing my flashlight beam on each and every one. One heifer in the corral had a calf coming with one foot back, so I trotted to the house and woke up Dad. While waiting for him to dress and get down there, I got the heifer into the barn and put into the stanchion. We performed the operation, checked through the other cows, and hit the sack again at 1:30.
My alarm brought me around at 6:00. I climbed out of bed to a blizzardy sort of day. After breakfast, Lloyd grained the calves while Dad and I put a battery in the "crawler." It started without trouble, so we put gas in it.
Dad headed the "cat" north to the first stack yard, with Lloyd and I bounced along on the empty hay sled. We loaded on half a stack. Lloyd and I then started feeding cattle in the comparative shelter around the buildings and tree lots. Dad started up north in the four-wheeler to check around. He got stuck right away, so came back afoot and got a reliable form of transportation, his horse Penny. Lloyd and I fed the hay on the sled, so went inside to thaw out until Dad returned.
Dad had moved the cow bunch into the middle pasture and the heifers into the home meadow. I saddled Sassy and rode out to get the heifers on in to the "old bull lot." When I returned, Dad and Lloyd had finished their work in the barn, so we came in to an early dinner. I made up about twenty minutes of my lost sleep over the noon hour.
Dad took the pickup to the pasture north of the west meadow. Lloyd and I bucked the wind with the feeding outfit, having to stop now and then to pull Dad out of a deep spot. Blowing snow and mud kicked up by the cat didn't make my job as driver overly comfortable.
We pulled on most of a stack (loading twice), and fed the cows with little calves. They were getting along pretty fair, despite their lack of shelter. Better time was made going home because of a good strong tail wind.
At home, we warmed up a bit and went out to feed some more. We loaded two thirds of a stack, and fed the cows and heifers. A little more was also fed to the heavies and yearlings. I didn't help on this last bit, because I had to look for a lost pitchfork. I never did find the darn thing, but it will probably turn up—in a tire, most likely.
Lloyd and I got the heavies in. Dad and I sorted them while Lloyd fed the bulls. [Every night, we would get the heavies into the corral. Dad would "sort out" the ones most likely to calve that night. We would leave them in the corral and turn the rest out into the heavy lot. After supper, it was usually my job to "check the cows" before going to bed. These cows in the corral would be put into the barn on the coldest nights. As a rule, none of the "most likely" cows would calve, but invariably there would be one or two new babies out in the heavy lot that would have to be dealt with. It was not the greatest system, but that was how we did it. I empathize with Spike Van Cleve's assessment. He said about his relationship with his dad: "There were always three ways to do any task—the easy way, the hard way, and Dad's way, which made the hard way look plum easy." I concur.]
I was told to "put the pickup away" [as in the double garage just north of the house]. I got it stuck between the bunkhouse and the new garage [called "the Butler building"], so it will have to sit outside tonight. This was just one of the many incidents which helped to make the last 24 hours a very imperfect day.
Sybil went outside last night to help Dad check the cows. Sandra caught the urge to be out in a blizzard also, so the two of them accompanied Dad on his rounds tonight.