The Exodus

There have been some rowdy protests going on around the globe as the pandemic continues.

We had some protests at The County Line last week, too, but they have nothing to do with the coronavirus. These mamas were a bit upset that they were separated from their babies. They didn't know that it was for their babies' own good.

We sorted them from each other so we could haul them separately to summer pastures. It's better for the babies if we put them in one trailer and haul the much bigger cows separately. We don't want the babies trampled in the trailers as we traverse down the roads from the farmstead to the pastures.

So despite the loud protests, it's really for their own good. Hmmm ... perhaps there's a message there, too. (And that's as political as I'll get here.)

The babies are much less concerned about the separation. Their bellies are full for the moment, so they are more curious about the humans who've invaded their space. (As I was looking through photos I'd taken, I decided these youngsters were trying to count by 2s and got a little out of order. So much for homeschooling, right? There are probably some parents who can relate to that at the moment!)

Anyway, after three days of gathering, sorting and hauling, all the mamas and babies are at summer pasture. (And the pairs were reunited in just a few hours. This anxious baby couldn't wait to get into a more traditional position to begin nursing.)

It sounds so simple - three days of gathering, sorting and hauling in the beautiful days of spring. Idyllic, right? But as with Paul Harvey, there's "the rest of the story." While the transition from April is more traditionally known as "showers to May flowers," at The County Line, it's also the signal for cattle to make the exodus from lots near home to their summer pastures.

Depending on the location, the methods vary.

At a couple of the winter locations, it includes a 4-wheeler ride. That's not necessarily a bad thing on a nice spring morning - as long as the participants cooperate.

The day before this move from the pasture south of our house, Randy had shut the cattle off from water so that they'd be more inclined to come up into the lot. It worked, since the gathering went well. They did need some nudging to get them up into the next corral for sorting. 

It's true love that he drives across the muddiest parts so that I don't have to.

Even with the smelly lots, I couldn't ignore the beautiful blue sky as a backdrop.

There might be even fewer photos than normal of the sorting process. This year, we have some part-time help, but there's a learning curve when it comes to sorting. While our helper hauled a cow who hadn't calved to another lot, Randy and I sorted the mamas from the babies.

 

As I said earlier, the mamas are a lot more concerned about it than the babies.

There are no photos of getting them loaded into the trailer either. All hands on deck are needed to push them into the trailer, and no camera needs to be crushed or dropped in the process. My leg got a whack from a kicking calf; the camera didn't need to suffer the same fate.

This group went to the Ninnescah pasture. The old cottonwood at the gate is the first witness to the annual spring ritual as Randy swings open the gate.

I wish its branches were as plentiful and strong as they were 30 years ago, but like the rest of us, the cottonwood is showing its age.

We added the double gate a year ago. The old gate got knocked out as we were slipping and sliding because of excessive rain. Even though the reason was an inconvenience, we are enjoying the new, spacious entry into the pasture. (See more about the soggy conditions last year that added 12 miles to the journey with each load in this 2019 blog post.)

We put all the cattle into a holding pen while we haul all the mamas and babies to the pasture. 

Once they've all arrived, it's time to let them out of the holding pens, where the babies find their personal milk machines ...

And they head out into the pasture to explore.

With the Ninnescah Pasture populated for the summer, it's off toward home and resting up for more days of gathering, sorting and hauling to other pastures. 

Sorting and transporting the bulls to the different pastures happened on another day. Below, the bulls take off to find the "ladies" who'd arrived at the Ninnescah a couple of days before.

Last Friday, we moved the pairs from Peace Creek to the corrals about half mile away. We drove them down the road, nudging them along with three 4-wheelers.

The mamas were definitely distracted by the green wheat along the way.

This littlest calf had to work hard to keep up.

We eventually got them into the corral and sorted (though again, there is no photographic evidence of the actual sorting).

But, eventually, they ended up at the Rattlesnake pasture, a place where Randy's family has been taking cattle for more than 100 years.

Even when the circumstances around us seem foreign and incomprehensible, it's a comfort to have these spring rituals continue.

Heifer's arrival at Palmer's pasture

Your Mission, If You Choose To Accept It

See that little orange tab on the heifer's ear? Try quickly finding that 1-inch long, 1/4-inch-wide narrow band in a calf's fluffy winter ear hair while she and gang of 700-pound-plus friends are barreling toward you. Kind of like finding a needle in a haystack, don't you think? Except this haystack could cause a bruise or two.

Nobody said this farm wife gig was easy.

Last week, we gathered feeder calves to get them ready to sell. The calves were born last winter. Last fall, after they came home with their mamas from summer pasture, they had their doctor's appointment.

We build our cow-calf crop by keeping 25 of the heifers born each winter. As the calves came through the chute, Randy identified the heifers he wanted to retain for our herd and who'll eventually be mamas for the County Line, choosing the ones in good body condition and good confirmation.  The veterinarian gave those heifers a calfhood vaccination to prevent brucellosis, also known as "bangs." This disease causes abortion or premature calving. The vaccination must be performed by an accredited veterinarian, in compliance with state and national regulations.
The vet used a device to "tattoo" the animal to show it had received the brucellosis vaccination. Then he used green ink to mark the tattoo.

The orange bands help identify the calves who've been calfhood vaccinated. At least the orange bands are easier to see than a tattoo would be as cattle run by us!

The "find-a-needle-in-a-haystack" exercise wasn't the only challenge. We ate a lot of dirt while we gathered and sorted calves.

Our part of Kansas is in a severe drought. We haven't had appreciable rain (or snow, for that matter) since early October. Today, the snow storm appears to be going north of us again. Getting the cattle up to the sorting corrals on 4-wheelers was a dirty job.

Even though Randy had Shawn water down the sorting pens, all the dirt in the air had us sneezing and coughing the rest of the day.

Last Wednesday, we loaded the remaining heifers and steers onto a semi for their trip to the Pratt Livestock sale barn.

Loading the truck is kind of like a jigsaw puzzle. The trucker tells us how many head of cattle he wants in each group. And we send them on their way, up the chute and into the truck.

 If Randy's smile is any indication, it's a good feeling to get them all loaded ...

 

 ... and on their way to the sale barn.

Randy and I went to meet the truck at the sale barn and answer any questions about the 79 calves we were selling.

Our cattle were unloaded, counted and put into a numbered pen, kept separate from other seller's cattle until they go through the sale ring and are sent to feedlots.

Next time: Results from the sale barn.

Work Conditions

The last few weeks included some long days of cattle round ups, sorting and hauling. This life on a farm doesn't include a regular paycheck, and that can sometimes be disconcerting, especially when commodity prices are low and agricultural policy is uncertain with a new president.

Every day, my Facebook feed and farm magazines talk about consumers who believe we farmers are doing them harm with modern production practices and new seed technologies.

But in the midst of all that, I need to open my eyes to the blessings I do have. We certainly have a beautiful backdrop for work. I am blessed to see God's creation as it comes alive each spring - even if the smell of those blooming trees may sometimes be masked with the aroma of manure mixed with mud. 

Such was the day we rounded up cattle at Peace Creek. For this round-up, we borrowed a 4-wheeler from a neighbor and used our two 4-wheelers, too.

Even getting a group of reluctant mothers and babies to cross the creek gave me an opportunity to enjoy a morning where I could hear the birds singing and enjoy the white clouds against a vivid blue spring sky.

We finally got them to cross the water and we worked them toward the road, where we would drive them to the corrals to sort the mamas and babies.

I didn't take any photos of the time on the road, where we also detoured into tempting green wheat and alfalfa fields. Trying to drive a 4-wheeler and take photos at the same time as chasing cattle led to the demise of a camera this winter, so I stuck it in my pocket. It stayed there while we sorted mamas from babies.

 

 

Then I couldn't resist snapping a photo or two (or more) of the cute little faces.

Their mothers weren't thrilled to be separated from their offspring. We don't need to watch protests on the evening news. They happen in our cattle lots! They don't realize that we are actually protecting their babies.

We haul the babies separately from the moms so that the babies don't get trampled in the cattle trailers.

 

The Ninnescah Pasture looks like a pretty ideal "vacation" spot to me. It seems like a picturesque place to spend the summer.

The babies were ready to jump from the trailer to begin a new adventure.

However, they had to wait in the holding pens until all the mothers were there so they could reunite.

I couldn't resist my annual photo of these three trees as we left the pasture for another load of mamas. I may not get a paycheck, but the fringe benefits are pretty great.