The Ninnescah

  

We live in the shadow of many people who came before us. Our families both settled in Kansas in the late 1860s, not long after the 34th state joined the Union. Our great-grandparents, our grandparents and our parents all made a way that we continue to follow. I suppose I could say they "paved" a way, but in our part of the world, our everyday roads are more commonly dirt. 

But the shadow extends far beyond blood ties. Through the years, other families have given us the opportunity and privilege to care for their cropland and pastureland. Early in November, we were at one of those special places - the Ninnescah pasture owned by the Johnson family. Randy and his dad began renting the pasture in 1977, right after Randy's junior year in college. (Our house was originally owned by the Johnsons, too. We moved into it when I was eight months pregnant with Jill and bought it several years later. We are still grateful for that, too!)

This November was our final round-up there as active farmers/ranchers. We will retain ownership of our mama cows, but we've worked out an agreement with, Tye, a young neighbor who is farming with his parents. We will continue to provide our cows and the pasture, but he'll do the work of caring for the cows and then calving them out for a share of the calf crop. (As I wrote about the Big Pasture round-up, I won't be surprised if Randy ends up helping with future round-ups, if asked. Old habits die hard.)

The Ninnescah Pasture is a beautiful place ...

 

2019

... winter ...

May 2019

  ... spring ...

Ninnescah Pasture - June 22, 2020

  ... summer ...

... or fall.

Don't tell the boss, but it has never seemed like work to ride a 4-wheeler in a pretty setting. Well ... I take that back. A couple of summers ago, it was definitely work as we struggled to keep about five pairs in the pasture. We took way more 4-wheeler rides that summer than we wanted, and it was most decidedly not fun.

The Ninnescah River runs through the property. It's ideal for cattle.

Well, it's ideal unless they are playing hide-and-seek among the trees clear across the pasture when you're trying to get them to leave their summer vacation spot for a trip back to the farmstead.

On that November Saturday morning as we moved cattle, it was also a sanctuary for bird hunters (though we probably disturbed the peaceful vibe).

Eventually, we got the bulls, the cows and their calves moved into the corral. 

I could go on and on about the beauty of the pasture. And as we are facing the end of an era, there's that temptation. 

But there is a rest of the story. One of our trailers had a problem when the shackles broke. (... Whatever shackles are! I was driving at the time, but Randy says it wasn't my fault - whew!) So we ended up making a lot more trips, using just one of our trailers, along with Tye's trailer. We won't miss having to deal with the breakdowns and the myriad of other challenges that are the day-to-day minutia behind a successful operation. (The same day, we got a call from an oil field driver who happened to see one of our bred cows drop dead at a different pasture. It was a young cow in its prime, so we think it may have choked on a hedge apple, but we don't really know. I will edit myself and not share a photo of that.)

Instead, we'll look forward to summertime fishing trips to the Ninnescah, rather than chasing a few ornery escapees. 

Walkin' My Baby Back Home

There is no rhyme or reason for the random music playlist that swirls in my head.

I probably haven't thought of the song "Walkin' My Baby Back Home" since my sisters and I placed my parents' old 45 single on the record player, carefully placed the needle in a groove and gave it a spin. So why did it become "No. 1 with a bullet" on my cattle moving soundtrack hit parade? Who knows ...

Gee, it's great after staying out late
Walking my baby back home
Arm in arm over meadow and farm
Walking my baby back home

We go along harmonizing a song
While I'm reciting a poem
The hours go by and they gave me the eye
Walking my baby back home.

 

The lyrics fall apart as cattle moving music after those initial words of the song popularized by Johnnie Ray back in 1952. 

Thankfully, other 45s in my parents' repertoire were not evident as cattle walking music during the move of cows from stalks to corrals. It was a calm, unseasonably mild winter's day, so no need for "They Call the Wind Mariah." Another of Johnnie Ray's songs, "The Little White Cloud That Cried" was also not evident in a clear blue sky with nary any clouds - or cattle workers - "crying."

 

The "babies" being walked back home are still in utero. The mamas are currently in the maternity ward, which should be gearing up in late January/early February.  

 

 

I really wanted to dig out my camera long before I did as Randy, a neighbor helper and I drove them from stalks and along the blacktop for a few hundred yards. I snuck in a quick shot as they turned off the paved road and onto the dusty county line (top photo).

 

That particular group moved fairly easily once we urged them past the barrier. Actually, Randy had taken down the electric fence and was trying to entice them with a bit of hay. 

 

But old habits are hard to break and it always takes the cattle a little bit to figure out that the fence will no longer give them a little jolt.

The neighbor and Randy wisely kept their mouths shut as we approached the Peace Creek bridge. Three years ago, I was fortunate to escape serious injury from a 4-wheeler accident while moving cattle.

As I've said before, clicking the camera shutter is a right-handed job, as is running the accelerator on the 4-wheeler. So taking photos is not a priority during cattle-moving jobs. I only got a total of 19 photos - most of them fairly similar - during our morning jaunts. Attention to detail: That's why I get paid the big bucks. OK, I don't get paid at all, but you know what I mean. And I realize 19 photos are a lot to some people - just not to me.

After the first group was safely ensconced at Peace Creek, it was time to move the heifers from stalks about a half mile from the farmstead. I guess they needed some exercise because it took several attempts to get them rounded up and headed in the right direction toward the corrals. Again, you'll have to take my word for it. I was much too busy accelerating all over the field to document the round-up with photos.

After we got them to the farmstead, the heifers then got a chauffeured ride to the corrals east of our house. The maternity ward is now operational. We are awaiting the Class of 2021 crop of calves - but not too soon.

And bonus: We got it accomplished before a round of winter weather. 

***

True confessions: This cattle move happened before Christmas, but seasonal blogs were more timely, so they were posted first. On this day when another winter storm is supposed to blow through, I'm glad this job is done. Feeding is still on the agenda today though.

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?

Who Needs the Lottery?

I don't play the lottery. So why am I taking a photo of a PowerBall ticket?

It was a gift from someone who said I had to be the luckiest person he knew. I really am fortunate. But I am not going to attribute my good fortune last week to "luck." Instead, I've been thanking God for His protection.

I had a 4-wheeler accident last Monday (January 14) while we were moving cattle. I probably should have been hurt badly. Instead, I'm just a little bruised and battered.

I wasn't going to tell anyone about it. I hate mistakes.This first-born perfectionist especially hates my  mistakes. So I was going to cover it up. I told Randy to tell the other two people who witnessed the accident that they were to keep their mouths shut.

As far as I know, they did. But one of them is the purchaser of the lottery ticket. He stopped Randy on the road the next day and said it was for me ... for the aforementioned luck.

The lottery ticket was not a winner. In fact, it didn't have even one matching number. But that was OK. I didn't think my "deliverance" from major harm had anything to do with "luck" anyway.

It took me two days to confess the accident to anyone in my family. I took a backwards vault off the Peace Creek bridge with the 4-wheeler. It's not easy to get the 4-wheeler into reverse. My inexperience with the reverse button and the bridge location collided. However, all that rain and mud we've been frustrated by likely helped cushion my fall. I vaguely remember pushing the 4-wheeler away from me as I fell, and it didn't land on top of me. That helped, too.

I had some bruises - inside and out - and I wasn't too comfortable for a few days. But even the bruises are fading now.

Farming is a dangerous job. Sometimes it's dangerous because we make stupid mistakes. Sometimes animals don't react the way we anticipate. We are around big machinery and moving parts and chemicals, and accidents happen. We're sometimes tired and impatient - two things that can lead to mistakes.

I could have just showed the photos of moving the cattle. Believe me: I considered it. We moved two groups that day and things went well until the end. We had one "escapee," and I was trying to go help retrieve that one left behind when the accident happened.

I've been privately thanking God for His protection for a week. If I'm not willing to say that and to show all sides of farming, then I'm not being an honest representative for agriculture or for my faith.

In the adult Sunday School class I facilitate, the chapter theme last week was "Revealing Authenticity." Hmmm ... I have to admit it was another nudge to be honest. One of the quotes from the book, "#struggles: Following Jesus in a Selfie-Centered World," was from Mother Teresa. Really? Who can argue with Mother Teresa?

Honesty and transparency make you vulnerable. Be honest and transparent anyway.

In this world of Instagram filters and pithy "tweets," it's become our "norm" to edit our images and our words. We crop our photos to show our best features. We only post photos of ourselves and our families when everyone looks their best. We write, then edit, then edit some more until we have what we hope will translate into the maximum number of "likes."

Author of the book Craig Groeschel says: "The more filtered our lives become - the more we show others only the "me" we want them to see - the more difficulty we have being authentic. ... If we can't be real, are we really living?"

So here you have me: Unfiltered and authentic. I am not the perfect farm wife. I'm far from it. But you know that saying about getting back on your horse after getting bucked off? I'll be back on the 4-wheeler again. (But I will probably do everything in my power to keep from having to use the reverse. Just saying. And just being real. For sure, I won't use it if I'm on a bridge.)

Here are the photos and the story of what happened before the accident, It really was a pretty day: 

There's at least one in every crowd. It's the guy (or gal) who doesn't join the rest. You know the type: It's the one who is insistent about not following the carefully-prescribed plan of action. While others follow a straight line toward a common destination, that obstinate non-rule follower will willfully mess up the carefully-detailed plan of action.

 

This cow who didn't walk down the cattle trail is kind of like that toddler who looks over at his/her mother while doing the very thing that she'd just said not to do. It's like the kindergarten student who can't seem to remain in single file on the way to the lunch room. Honestly, these cows were well-behaved.

Once we got them moving in the same direction with the 4-wheelers, they went willingly.

Cattle - like humans - are creatures of habit. It took awhile for them to realize that the electric fence was no longer there. Even the enticement of a big round bale of tasty hay didn't have them crossing the line where the fence had been.

They finally crossed the "demilitarized" zone.

And with a little urging, they were across the road.

We ran them into the corrals until the roads froze enough to move them. Thankfully, that happened on Saturday. It was before the heifers started calving. While the "due date" is January 28, we had our first baby calves by January 23 last year.

Since there's another cold snap with potential flurries or a "wintry mix" coming, it will probably happen soon. Randy is already making trips to "the girls" to see if we have any early arrivals for the Class of 2019. Alert: Cute calf pictures soon to come!