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

Morning Drive Time: Country Style

The big-town radio stations talk about morning drive time. They'll play a mix of music to get commuters from suburbia to their downtown office jobs. It's where the stations sell their best advertising space, since it's when the drivers are held captive by bumper-to-bumper traffic. Or so I've been told.

I don't know about that kind of morning drive time. Even when I was commuting back and forth from our farm to Hutchinson to work every day, the traffic was never bumper to bumper.

But our current kind of "drive time" has less to do with traffic and more to do with "driving" cattle. And it involves a 4-wheeler. There are potholes, to be sure. But they are more likely old buffalo wallows than asphalt broken down by winter de-icing.

Randy says we use "Japanese horses" for our drive time. In other words, we don't have horses. But a neighbor used the real thing on a Saturday morning cattle drive a couple of weeks ago.

We got a front-row seat from our porch.

One little calf was lagging behind. He got roped and then got a chauffeured ride in the trailer.

All our cows and calves are transported by trailer, since there's too much distance between the corrals and our summer pastures.

Our morning drive time isn't without headaches though. Big-city commutes may be marred by accidents, timing and weather. Our country version is at the mercy of the weather, too. Rain slowed our annual drive from our cattle's wintertime accommodations to their summer vacation spots.

Thankfully, Monday was the final day for this annual exodus, which we usually try to accomplish by May 1. We missed the rains on Sunday night, which allowed the road to the Big Pasture to dry out enough from the 1.70 inches of rain we got last week. We had to have the vehicles in four-wheel drive and gun them a bit to get through one low-lying place.

But we've since had an additional 3.40 inches of rain. If we hadn't gotten the final group moved on Monday, there would be no hope of doing it the rest of this week. The corn we planted where it was too wet to plant wheat last fall is definitely getting its "feet" wet. We'll see how much replanting we need to do.

Wednesday, May 8, 2019, a corn field after 5.20" of rain

 

Corn is planted on both sides of the road ... under the "lake"

Because we couldn't move the pairs to the Big Pasture because of wet roads, we moved the bulls to their pasture last week. They had been romancing the heifers, but some of them now needed to turn their attention to the cows that would end up at the Big Pasture

After a little sorting, a couple of them made the ladies' acquaintance late last week, so they were also part of our Monday round-up.  

Randy points the way to the ladies: "Go east, young men!"

Back to the morning drive time: Monday was a beautiful day for our final cattle round-up. Randy and I were on 4-wheelers to get the cattle from the pasture south of our house into the lot where we could sort and load them. 

Driving cattle is a little like working with junior high girls. It's easier to get them to do what you want them to do if they are among friends. It's kind of like a trip to the girls' bathroom at a junior high dance. It's best accomplished en masse.

We herded them up toward the corrals.

It took a bit of encouraging to get them to go through the big mud puddle, but they eventually made it into the corrals where we sort. Separating mamas and babies is always part of the process. We haul the babies separately so they don't get stepped on in the trailers.

There are usually a few pairs in each group that we need to sort off as well. They may be older cows and their calves, since Randy plans to sell them at the end of the summer. Or they may be going to a different location because Randy wants an optimal number on each pasture.

Randy makes a handy-dandy written list that I can hold in my hand for that process. That always works better than me trying to remember numbers. Happy helpers make the process go more smoothly.

I may be happy, but the mamas aren't. We have our share of protesters, loudly lamenting their withdrawal from their offspring. I can relate. I remember that first day of kindergarten when the big yellow bus swallowed up my precious cargo. And I knew they were coming back!

The calves seemed to suffer less separation anxiety. Of course, they likely weren't hungry at the time.

 But they eventually got to reunite and took off to explore their summer time vacation home.

This group arrived at the Big Pasture, which has been in Randy's family for more than 100 years.

THE NINNESCAH

In the big cities, road construction may slow the morning commute. Thankfully, a little road construction in the last month or so helped our commute immensely.

Last fall, we did our form of mud-wrestling as we brought pairs home from the Ninnescah. After 14-plus inches of rain, our normal route was not passable, so we ended up driving an extra 12 miles each trip. We also wiped out a corner post because of muddy conditions.

 

Thankfully, the county repaired the road. And the guys repaired the entrance to the pasture. They added a new corner post and made the entrance much wider, which should help avoid problems in the future, even if we have to turn in from a different direction.

Randy came up with a farmer solution to hold the new gate open. It only took him a little while to find a sturdy stick with a helpful "y."

The cattle making the move to the Ninnescah arrived in late April, thanks to the repaired road.

PALMER PASTURE

The ladies who'll become mamas for the first time next January arrived at the Palmer Pasture last week.

Even though it was a cloudy, overcast day, I always think the setting with the old cottonwoods is picturesque.

Now, unless we get phone calls about escapees (fingers crossed that doesn't happen), everyone is in place and ready to spend the summer. When do I get a vacation?