Juan said:
Glad you liked them, Juan. I did it just for you. :wink:
They are cattle from the Arthur Bowring Sandhills Ranch & State Historical Park. They are descendents of the original Bowring Hereford cattle.
When Dad was a kid, the Bowring cattle were the wildest ones in the area, and the neighbors all called it "the Rope and Drag Outfit". Mrs. Bowring had three boys from a previous marriage, and their last name was Forester. Their names were Don, Harold and Frank, and they were pretty wild. Dad said Don could get the swing on the playground going real fast and go clear up over the top horizontal bar, coming down on the other side. That would take guts.
Another of the boys' tricks was to shut off the windmill at the barn. Two would go up and one would "spread eagle" out on the wheel. The other boy would tie the first one's wrists and ankles to the windmill wheel, then climb down and turn it on. They'd get some pretty thrilling rides by doing this.
All of the boys left the ranch to pursue civilized careers, but Don came back in early 1965 to run the ranch for his mother. I was only thirteen that spring, but got to know Don at the brandings. He was an interesting fellow. Tragically he got killed that summer during haying while trying to get a big tall beaver-slide stacker underneath a highline wire. He knew enough about electricity to know that the bottom wire was a ground, so climbed up the stacker to push the wire over the top with a pitchfork. The electricity arched across and electrocuted him. Earlier that day, my dad had visited with Don at the post office.
That fall, his widow Mildred Forester was my eighth grade country school teacher. For students, she had six kids in six different grades. Her son, Bill, who was recently graduated from high school in Lincoln, worked for my dad on our ranch. He and "Mrs. B" didn't see eye-to-eye, which is the reason he worked for us instead of his grandmother.
Arthur Bowring died in 1944, and his widow carried on with the running of the ranch. Mr. Bowring had been involved in Nebraska state politics, and in 1954, Mrs. Bowring was appointed by then-Nebraska Governor Val Peterson to fill out Nebraska Senator Dwight Griswold's term in office, as Mr. Griswold had died unexpectedly. After her term as Senator, she chose not to run for re-election. At that time, with friends in high places, she was appointed as a member of the Federal Parole Board, which she served on from 1956-1964.
It was always a question what would happen to her very nice ranch after she died. We always knew in our hearts that the ranch would never come up for sale, we just didn't know what her plan would be. Upon her death on January 8th, 1985, the ranch was donated to the Nebraska State Game and Parks Commission.
In April of the year she died, an auction was held at the ranch to get rid of surplus equipment. I ended up buying a 1980 Ford F150 4x4 pickup, with only 42,000 actual miles. It was a pretty beat up "ranchy-looking" pickup, but I thought it would work for fencing and other chores. After driving it home from the sale, I realized that it had a few problems. I took it to a local Ford dealer, and told him to fix the broken frame and to do whatever it took so the engine had proper oil pressure again. As the pickup had no radio, I told him if he had one that would fit to go ahead and install it. He got a big grin on his face, and said that he had a radio that would fit it alright, and as a matter of fact it was the very same radio that Mrs. Bowring had him take out of the pickup when she purchased it. She sure didn't want her hired help to enjoy ranching any more than necessary. :wink:
One of her long-time employees stuttered pretty badly. On one occasion, a potential ranch job seeker came along, and she thought she liked him better than the stuttering fellow. She fired the first guy, and he reported to her house to pick up his last check. As he backed away from the house, he stammered, "M-m-m-mrs. B-b-b-bowring, I hope all your d-d-d-d-damned c-c-c-cows d-d-d-die." After a few months, when the "new man" stole a pickup and skipped the country, Mrs. Bowring had to eat crow and hire the first man back. Later, this same stuttering fellow worked for me from 1992-1999. He was a good loyal hand, and I felt honored to be one of the casked-bearers at his funeral.
Mrs. Bowring is still trying to run her old ranch from her grave. I have to give her credit--she's doing a pretty fair job of it, because things always go along quite well on the Arthur Bowring Sandhills Ranch and State Historical Park. It is a local tourist attraction that we highly recommend to visitors.
:lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: