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What is your special memory growing up on a ranch?

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Mountain Cowgirl

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Do you have a special memory of growing up on a ranch? I found this photo this morning trying to find some branding photos for another thread.

It was the fall of 1969 before girls could become FFA members. In small school rural areas, many allowed girls to take ag class but not join FFA as national rules applied.

I was blessed to take ag for 2 years and show in FFA but as a 4 H member. I was allowed to judge livestock in the school shows but never in official FFA. In my second year of ag right before the regional FFA livestock judging, one of the boys fell very ill. The alternate boy was unable to go and others had no clue or could care less about livestock judging. The teacher contacted the regional board and they agreed I could fill in as a three-man team was at a serious disadvantage and not fair to those three that had studied all year. A team win would count in official FFA, but I would be listed as a non-member alternate. Our team placed 3rd. When the individual scores were announced I was 1st place with a perfect score. Livestock judging has always come naturally to me. What took some study was giving my reasons in an approved manner.

I did some work on my Great Uncles ranch one summer. He surprised me and gave me a steer for the coming fall school Ag class project. He never finished out well but showed well and I won several best showmanship awards. Here is that steer and me 1966. Check out those snazzy boots hahaha! They were actually a size too large for me but I was given them by a cousin that outgrew them. They were expensive custom handmade boots.

FF 66 rs.jpg
 
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leanin' H

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I grew up on a true old west outfit. My grandfather served in WW1 and came home and to run the ranch. My grandpa died when I was 8 from the atomic bomb tests that happened over the Nevada line. I can remember blowing on his coffee as a little kid. My dad and uncles were my hero’s growing up. Four of the finest men that ever walked the earth. As a teenager I remember my uncle Bernell ponying the horse back across the mountain after we’d shipped calves. I always wanted to do it and always had to ride in the truck. The year he passed away when we loaded the last set of trucks and trailers I’ll never forget my cousin and dad asking me to pony the horse herd back to the cow camp while they headed to town with the calves. I about split with pride. And I may of lost a lot of tears on that 11 mile ride back to camp. I have a strong knowledge that the veil between heaven and earth is very thin. I DID NOT RIDE ALONE THAT DAY. I’ve ridden many times on those old high desert trails and I’ve yet to feel alone. I wrote a little poetry on the subject and one day I’ll dig a copy up and post it. Bernell Thomas, Perry Taylor and Ron Alloway were my Uncles, mentors and best friends. Richard Ekker was the best Grandfather ever. I miss them each and every day. Thankfully I still have my dad.
 
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