R.I.P. Coffee

27 December 2008

A good mom and a sweet, hard-working girl,
but too blood-thirsty and obsessive for the rest of the livestock.
Sorry you made that choice, Coffee.

Sometimes the Natural Order of Things Sucks.

Man what a season. You remember that Coffee had puppies? Or perhaps I haven't even gotten around to telling you...anyway, Coffee had some puppies right before Halloween. We ended up with five or six of them, and had given all but one away. Last Sunday was the last time we saw the fat little guy. We looked for him for days, but couldn't find him. Here are our best guesses:

- He tried to follow Donut (the 10-mile+ adventure dog) and got lost.
- The bald eagle Number One's been seeing around finally caught him alone and out in the open.
- He just wandered off and got lost.

My bet is on number two, but we will never know. The cute little pup is just gone. It's difficult and sad, but these sorts of things happen on ranches sometimes.

Now that Coffee doesn't have any puppies left, she apparently was wont for something to do. And the something she chose to occupy her time was horrible. You may recall that some time ago Coffee turned into a sheep-killer. And convinced some of the other dogs to join her, until we were forced to give the remaining sheep away (or bury them one by one).

Today, Coffee became a goat-killer. The goats, we thought, were safe in the orchard. Somehow, either Coffee got in or poor Jessie got out, or both. Woody came to the front door this morning, freaking out, trying to get our attention. Knocking on the door with his horns and hooves. Jumping up like a dog to peer in the window. Climbing on the grill.

Number One went out to put Woody back in the orchard, where he realized Jessie was missing. He took Woody around the ranch, looking for Jessie. Finally, after an exhaustive search, he found her, dead.

Jessie, top, with Woody

We are very sad and will miss this sweet little goat. Woody is distraught and lonely. He keeps trying to come in the house.

Number One isn't sure what to do about Coffee, who is currently locked in a kennel indefinitely. And I'm not sure what to do about Woody...there is a possibility we could find him a couple goat friends (I saw a sign at the grocery store a while back) or we may give him to the same lady who took our sheep. I'll let you know. You can be sure that no other goat will be as sweet as our little Jessie.

Lost & Found

Jack

Sweet little Jack is missing. She and her brother, Donut, went missing before Thanksgiving. The other day, H-Bomb started crying about them on the way to school. He was getting mad and said "We need to go to the people's house who has our dogs and take them back!" And when we got to town, instead of eating his little lunch plate before school, he was all depressed and just lay there on the couch because he was so sad.

I made some calls. The nearest towns to the ranch are 35 miles in one direction and 60 miles in the other direction. In the farthest town are two rock climbing shops. We happen to live in a world-class climbing area. Unfortunately. I called one of the shops, told them about our missing dogs, asked them if they'd heard anything about any climbers picking up some new dogs in the creek. ("the creek" is what those climbers call our ranch. our home.) They hadn't heard anything, but were empathetic.

I made some more calls, to more people in both towns. Finally, a call to the Humane Society. They said they had a dog that matched Donut's description, and emailed me a picture. (but said, "he did not respond to that name.") Since we don't have the internet in town, I ran to the visitor center to use their computer for a minute. And there was our Donut, in a foster home, 60 miles from home. Sawed Off saw the picture and said "ON'T" (pronounced like "don't" but without the "d")

They also said they had a black and white dog, that may or may not be Jack, but who had been found earlier than we thought our dogs had gone missing. "But know that she's been adopted already," the Humane Society said. I wondered what this meant...if it was Jack, we couldn't have her back? Because someone found her and took her and then someone else took her and even though she's really our dog??? I didn't want to think about it.

A mixed blessing, but the black and white dog wasn't our Jack. I emailed back some pictures of Jack, and also a picture of Sawed Off hugging Donut.

I made arrangements to pick up Donut the very next day. That meant Number One had to take the boys to school, while I drove 120 miles round trip to pick up the dog.

I got to the Humane Society, and was talking with the lady who runs the shelter. I asked her if the woman who "found" Donut was a climber. The lady said yes, she is a climber. And told me the climber was reluctant to give Donut back. (which explains why he "didn't respond" to his name. Likely story!) This climber had KEPT our dog for a WEEK before she even spoke with the Humane Society. The Humane Society had only known about Donut for THREE DAYS when he'd been missing almost TWO WEEKS! This climber was upset that Donut's rightful owners had showed up to claim him. I understand getting attached to a dog, but Come On. He's Not Your Dog!! The lady who runs the shelter thankfully has a brain in her head. She showed the climber the picture of Sawed Off with Donut, and told her "He's their dog. End of story." The climber argued that the dog had been "so skinny" when she found him. The lady explained that he is a working cattle dog, he's slender and athletic, etc. There was more, but I'm tired of repeating the stupidity.

So anyway. I got Donut back. He was very happy to see me. And then I visited the climbing shops in person. I told them both that a climber had taken one of our dogs. I explained that it's not a "rescue," it is STEALING when you take a dog from their property, no matter how extensive that property may be. Climbers, especially local climbers, ought to know better.

After Donut and I got home, we made the rounds in some of the climber's camps, but it was too early (everyone was still out climbing or whatever) and I didn't get to talk to anyone. I was headed home when I spotted one truck, hidden at the end of a canyon. I talked to that guy, and although he hadn't seen Jack, he is very helpful and is going to take care of some things for us. I won't elaborate on that arrangement, but he feels the same way about climbers these days, and their sense of entitlement and arrogance and lack of common sense.

The whole way home, Donut was on my lap. Snuggling. Sleeping. Occasionally licking my face. Happy. He was excited when we crossed the cattle guards; he knew he was Home. He wagged his tail when the other dogs barked and howled at our return to the ranch. He jumped and pawed at his friend Mia. He climbed on Number One's lap on the couch and licked his face too. He snuggled up to the boys' hugs, more face licks. How anyone could take him and keep him away from his family is beyond me.

Today, I made some more calls, and emailed more people. I have enlisted the help of many more climbers, some of whom I used to know when I lived in town. I am hopeful that Jack might still be found. Honestly, with the tenuous relations between ranchers and climbers, I am still astounded that a "local" climber would STEAL one of the ranch dogs, without thinking to stop at the ranch and inquire. What was she thinking??

Welcome home, Donut!
photo by Jean-Claude Mezieres


We miss you, Jack-Jack. Come home.

The State of the Ranch: Good and Bad

If I sat down and listed every single thing that is currently wrong with our house, I believe I would lose my mind, so I’ll just list a few. To give you an idea. I haven’t blogged in a while, so please bear with me. Or skim through, whatever. There a couple good things in here too. (Trust me, there really are!)

We are still, apparently, waiting on a bid from the contractor to complete our addition. We were prepared to wait, but MONTHS AGO when ABEG said to “Go Ahead” we got excited. For nothing. So now we are somewhat frustrated about the lack of progress.

The new front door the contractor installed during Phase I, but did not finish on the inside, you remember, the one that fell off the hinges a couple days later? Or maybe I was so mad about that one I didn’t even tell you. Anyway, now it doesn’t close unless you lift up on the handle. Hard. And if you want to lock the deadbolt? Forgetaboutit. You have to not only lift up the door but align the deadbolt with the hole, and then the doorknob thingie doesn’t line up. Whee. Also, even if the door is closed, you can kick it open. I tried it the other day when Sawed Off accidentally locked me out. It’s good for relieving aggression, but not so good when you’re thinking about being home by yourself. Deadbolt it is. I’ll have to add it to Number One’s list.

Our siding is not yet completed. We were waiting for the satellite internet dude to make it over here, and he finally did over the weekend. Now we can have someone finish installing the siding and seal it all before the snow flies! I am so glad I pushed to have the old chinking removed and the logs resealed before the siding went on—there was a significant, noticeable reduction in the number of elm beetles in our house!

Also, we currently have only half of our electricity. Meaning, half of the breakers in our breaker box don’t work. Luckily it is the inconsequential half, if you don’t count the bathroom light fixture. The theory is that there is a break in the line, somewhere underground, and we have yet to find it. Some of the wires from the generator may be shorted out underground, which would theoretically explain why we only have partial power. It’s just a theory.

Right now we have no power/lights in our bathroom, no power in the hall outlets (but thankfully at least one light in the hallway), no power/lights in H-Bomb’s room, no power/lights in the playroom, only half power (no lights) in the living room (thank goodness it didn’t affect the television!) I haven’t checked all the outlets, or the lights in the garage, but thankfully none of our appliances (2 fridges + 1 freezer) were affected.

Many of the other buildings are affected as well, the bunkhouse has untold fixtures/outlets that aren’t working; RanchHand and Wifey were running extension cords to their fridge and microwave; there is power out in the barn and some outbuildings. CG’s house seems to be unaffected, but she is on a different underground line from the rest of us.

CG’s brothers were here, trying to fix the electrical line, but they didn’t have the right equipment or couldn’t find the problem or possibly both. Who knows how long this will go on before CG breaks down and hires an electrician?

Her brothers did temporarily fix RanchHand and Wifey’s electricity by rewiring their breakers. When I found out about this, quite by accident, I was upset that the same service was not offered to us. We are running an extension cord from the kitchen (nearest working outlet) to the bathroom for a small lamp on the counter, near the sink—not exactly a kid-friendly setup! I spoke my mind this past weekend, and when I overheard one of the brothers discussing the situation with CG, “it could be another two weeks…” and she said “Oh, that’s FINE” without a second thought, I could not contain myself. I explained our bathroom situation, and asked that our breakers be rewired also. Brother was supposed to come down in the morning to address it.

The next morning, Brother did come down. And when he suggested re-wiring the entire breaker box, so we’d have all our power back, I asked what the risks might be. He said the box could get “hot” or the breakers could trip. I spoke with Number One, and we decided to just live with it. Brother said rewiring wouldn’t be too difficult, and we’d put the wires back in place it when the whole line is fixed, but with us not being here, we just said forget it.

I think I was just upset on principal, anyway. It’s not like we aren’t managing, and by now we’re so used to having things going wrong in our house On A Daily Basis that, a lamp in the bathroom? An extension cord running down the hall? Not a big deal. But the fact that someone else got their power “fixed” and we weren’t even offered or considered for the same deal? That’s enough to make this cowgirl fume.

It doesn't help much that Number One is constantly on the mountain these days, and we miss him. The other day when Sawed Off said, “Wan go moun wit you, Dada” (translation: Want to go to the mountain with you, Dada). Number One was getting choked up. He misses us too. Soon the fall gather will be complete and he will be here with us, and maybe even be able to come to town with us too.

H-Bomb has been playing and loving soccer, he has even kicked the ball a few times in the games. That’s all he needs to get excited! “Mommy! I kicked the ball THREE TIMES tonight!” Number One has only missed one game (he’s been doing a lot of driving to come down for the games: a two- or three-hour drive from the mountain plus almost an hour to town, and back).

H-Bomb is so proud whenever anyone comes to see his games. A couple weeks ago, he had even more spectators: his Grandpa and our famous cartoonist friend from France, Jean-Claude Mezieres. Grandpa drove Jean-Claude down from the airport, and Grandpa stayed the night at the town house. Jean-Claude is staying at the ranch, in our camper, for a month, I will post more about him next. We love Jean-Claude. We are going to visit him in Paris and at his country house. Very soon.

I have been canning pear and apple jams and butters (in my spare time!) and am getting ready to move on to salsa. It is almost time to harvest all the tomatoes—green and all—before the frost comes. I need to get busy. I made just one pear pie (…sniff…) before the pears got too ripe…I wanted to try freezing the pies, but I just didn’t have time.

I also have a list a mile long of things to do in and around the house, which may or may not get done. The leaves have mostly turned on the mountain, making our drive home spectacular. Except for when a deer ran out and struck our van in the side the other day. I’m not even kidding. We need to get the van fixed now too!

Some days H-Bomb says he wants to be a skeleton for Halloween, which would make my job a heck of a lot easier, because that’s what he was last year. I think we’ll turn it into a Pirate Skeleton, just accessorize the skeleton costume to make it more exciting. I think he’ll go for it. Because I sure don’t want to have to throw together a Tyrannosaurus Rex costume (his first request) at the last minute!

Oh, and Woody, the male goat, STINKS. He literally exudes some kind of male goat stench. It makes a person gag. Jessie does not seem to stink at all. It’s hard to tell for sure with Woody clamoring for attention TOO!! Not only do you have to wash your hands after touching him, you also have to change your clothes. It doesn’t exactly help with my laundry situation.

And Coffee, sweet little Coffee, is pregnant. Again. We really need to do something about this. But the puppies will be very good cattle dogs, a Kelpie/Catahoula mix.

Pre-Order YOURS Today!!!

Downsizing.

This is a process that's been going on for a while. I think it all began when we were out of town and CG decided to give away every single one of our puppies. H-Bomb and Sawed Off were devastated that they didn't get to say goodbye. They LOVED those puppies. And I was devastated at the method of "giving away" that was employed: a cardboard box, unattended, in the hot sun with no water, outside a Walmart which resulted in the Humane Society being called. Seriously. That is exactly what happened, and I am not yet over the cruelty and irresponsibility of it all.

And then, Coffee and Jack decided it was really super fun to attack and kill the sheep. One by one. At first, we thought it was just an "accident," cow dogs are too rough for sheep, sheep are more fragile than cows. We found one of our sheep had gotten out of the pen, and figured she had gotten cornered by the dogs. Then we found our lamb, in the pen, dead. Then there was a night of massacre, we lost another sheep and three of the four remaining were limping around and bleeding.

We put all the dogs on lock-down. Shortly thereafter we left for our scheduled vacation. While we were gone, it happened again. Despite our explicit instructions, more than one dog was out of the kennel at the same time. I believe three dogs were out at once, and they packed up and went after the sheep. Again. We lost another one.

We are down to three ewes now, and we are going to sell them. They are just not compatible with our current dog situation, and it is better to get rid of them now than to haul off their corpses later, honestly.

Then there are the goats, Woody and Jessie. I am really torn about this one. Since H-Bomb has started going to Kindergarten, I have felt like I just can't take care of the darn goats by myself. It's just too much. And Wifey is afraid of them, ever since Woody pinned her leg against the fence with his horns (I think he just wanted her to give him some attention) and then knocked her down and out of her shoes as she was running away from him. At least she is able to laugh about it, but she doesn't want to take care of them while I'm gone.

If the goats are staked out during the day, someone has to keep an eye on them so they don't get too tangled up and don't knock over their water. At night, they have to be run over to their little pen near the sheep. In the morning, they have to be run over to wherever it is they are to be staked out. It doesn't sound like a lot, and perhaps it's not, but day in and day out, it does get old and tedious.

I told CG that we needed to get rid of them, but now I'm having second thoughts. Maybe I could do it. I'll try it and see. If I get into the groove of taking H-Bomb to school, get organized, perhaps I could still put the goats in and out. I was really looking forward to trying to make goat cheese.

So anyway, as soon as we find a buyer, we won't have any more sheep. I'm not sure about the goats, and as affectionate as they are, we will miss them if they go. I'll keep you posted.

UPDATE: I asked Wifey if she would help with the goats one or two nights a week, and she said yes. And then later, she said no. So, unless I can find someone on the ranch who is willing to help with the goats...they're going to have to go. =(

Truck Drivin' Cowgirl

Number One woke me at 4AM and asked me to drive the truck and trailer up the canyon at noon, about 10 miles to pick up him, CG and RanchHand after their cattle drive this morning. I left the boys with Wifey and took off. It was a bit after noon, and they didn't want to have to ride home several hours in the heat. The road leaves a bit to be desired, it hasn't been graded yet this year and to say there are "ruts" is putting it mildly. Country music blaring (only because we only get one station out here), I hauled that trailer up there. I made it up there with no incidents at all, which is sort of amazing because I don't remember driving the truck and trailer since I hauled a load of bulls down the creek when Number One and I were dating. It's a pretty big trailer.

I got there before they all did, and I heard some cattle in the canyon so I hiked over to the edge. Not far, but I was glad I had some Gatorade with me. It was hot and it was beautiful--the cacti were in bloom, and some other wildflowers too.








At the canyon edge, I saw that the cows were pushed through the gate and the gate was up. I didn't see any riders, so I turned to walk back. Then one rider came out from behind a rock. He was looking all over the place. It was too far to see who it was, so I whooped. He looked around more, and I yelled "Up here!" It was Ranchhand, and he yelled back, asking if I'd seen "any people on horses." I told him it was me, and that I hadn't seen them. He rode for a little ways, then yelled, "I see them!"

When Number One and CG got to the truck, Number One asked if I wanted to go ride the four wheeler to check the other gates. I said sure, since Wifey had the boys. Number One and I, with Coffee riding on the back, took off down the switchbacks into the canyon. There were two creek crossings that were pretty deep, but the four wheeler made it. I was a bit nervous about the crossings since we had less than half a Gatorade and many miles to go to get back to the ranch. (for the record, people have left notes on their stuck vehicles that said "I'm headed to the ranch" and have never been found).

So there was this thistle in the middle of the road, and Number One drove right over it on the way to the gate. I made him stop when we came back to it so I could take this picture. Amazing how tough these plants are--run over by a four wheeler and still beautiful.


We dipped in the icy creek and headed back. I couldn't get as wet as I wanted to because I had to carry the camera in my pocket. We did take turns driving because of the darn thumb throttle--on a bumpy road your thumb starts to ache after a while. It was nice to be on the four wheeler with no boys to worry about, a little break. I wish it could happen more often.

Puppies! Want One? Seriously...

We have five male puppies, ready for new homes! They are boxer/kelpie mix, and both of their parents, Coffee and Stanley are excellent cow dogs. Their big sister Jack is an excellent cowdog too, she was born last year. Anyone want one? We really can't keep any of them.

H-Bomb asked if we could name one Stanley and then keep him. :( (We lost Stanley this winter.) He also thinks we should get a new "Joe-Dog" some day.

H-Bomb and I had a good time playing with all the puppies today!

Spring & Sprinklers

Number One is out in the fields, getting the wheel lines ready to start irrigating. H-Bomb didn't want to go help him. Neither did Sawed Off. So they were outside playing.

Then we heard barking out in one of the fields. The hounds, Sonny and Rico, along with CG's dogs Taz and Hank and perhaps even Coffee or Donut (it was too far to tell) were bugging some cows and bulls out there. I yelled at them, but they didn't bat an eye. I ran around and tracked down the four wheeler, then grabbed H-Bomb and Sawed Off and chased the dogs out of the field.

Number One heard the barking from the next field, and the hounds heard his jeep coming, so they hightailed it over to him. I said to the boys, "Do you want to go see what Daddy's doing?" Despite the fact that they had on no shoes and no sweatshirts, they decided they did want to go see Daddy.

And that, my friends, is how I tricked them. I took them out there, showed them all the kinds of fun that Daddy was having replacing every single broken sprinkler head on the wheel line, out in the freshly spring-toothed field, AKA the dirt. I asked them if they wanted to stay. Offered to go back and get them shoes and sweatshirts. They said YES! Coffee came with me on the four wheeler. Sometimes she just has to get away from her five puppies. I can relate. I came back to the house, faster with just me and Coffee on the four wheeler, grabbed shoes and sweatshirts, and went back to the field.

Sawed Off was in Daddy's jeep, handing him sprinkler heads.

H-Bomb was barefoot, walking the wheel line.

I put on sweatshirts and H-Bomb's shoes, then I left.

Well, I couldn't stay, could I?

You can't fix wheel lines wearing sparkly sandals.

Snowed In!--Update

Last week, despite round after round of snow storms, Number One and RH took a trip in to the Basin to move some cows. The trip had already been put off far too long, for one reason or another, so it needed to be done. They planned to drive in as far as they could, and then pack in on horseback the rest of the way.

They drove about 20 miles into the mountains, and packed their horses and gear another 10 miles into the Basin. There is a cabin there, with a woodstove, so shelter was not an issue. While they were in there, we got pounded with snow storms. To the point that those of us down at Ranch HQ were hoping they would be able to make it home.

During the trip, one of Number One's favorite cowdogs, Stanley, had an unfortunate accident and didn't come home. Number One didn't see what happened, but Stanley must have slipped and fallen off a cliff. It was a sad day. We do have a couple of Stanley's pups, so that helps a bit. And one of them, Donut, is just as big and pushy and affectionate as his dad was, so that helps too.

So, after a few days, Number One and RH got their work done, and headed out on their horses. They started to leave a day earlier than planned in case the snow one way was too deep for the horses, then they could turn around, spend another night in the Basin and then head out the other way, through GBNP if they needed to.

They rode the 10 miles to the truck and trailer, and found that the truck was drifted in. Stuck. There was no getting it out without some kind of plow. So they rode their horses all the way home that night, 30 miles total, through drifting, blowing snow. Both guys were cold and sore by the time they got home, and I'm sure the horses were too. Number One said there was one point when he thought the snow might be too deep and they might have to turn around, but they pushed through it and made it home.

Since then, Number One has been trying to go up there and get the truck. It's been snowing more and more, so he has been holding off, waiting for a break in the weather. Then he went to get the tractor ready, hook up the bucket and the snow plow, and of course something had to be welded on it so that day was shot.

Yesterday, he had everything ready and headed up there around 9:00am. He didn't make it home until almost 5:00pm, when CG and I were starting to worry and thinking about driving up there ourselves. He pulled in driving the same vehicle he started out with: the tractor. He had driven up and plowed drifts and plowed drifts until he was probably within a quarter mile of the truck, but then not only were the drifts up to the cab of the tractor, the pin that holds the plow on broke. So he had to turn around and come back, leaving the truck and trailer up there in the elements.

That means he's going to have to drive the tractor up there again, after he gets it fixed, of course. Next time he goes, I'll have him take the camera so we can share some photos of his work.

UPDATE--Number One was able to reach the truck with the tractor. And this is what he encountered:


Luckily, yesterday, the tractor was up to the task. Number One shoveled and plowed and freed the truck and trailer. Then he had to drive the tractor all the way home again.


Today, he is headed up to get the truck and trailer. He's riding the four wheeler up there, which will be a long, cold haul, but I was debating going with him. It would be fun to bundle up and ride, leaving H-Bomb and Sawed Off in care of C.G. for a while, taking a much-needed break.

I had decided to go, and C.G. had told Number One she could watch the boys, when she suddenly changed her mind. She decided that she needs to head to the Big City today, and she can't wait until we would get back. Even if the time we would most likely get back would only delay her an hour. I have to say I'm disappointed. I do understand that things could happen, we could take longer than anticipated, but still. I kind of wanted to go. And now I'm stuck here with the boys, all by myself. Again. :-(

R.I.P. Stanley

An imposing presence, overly affectionate, talented and dedicated cowdog.
We miss you, Stan.
26 January 2008

Cowgirls and Tractors and Four Wheelers, Oh My!

I have told you about things like this before. This is another one of those times. Let me set the scene:

• #1 and his brother are out pushing cattle, miles away.
• RH and Wifey are at their son's wedding in California.
• C.G. is laid up at her house with a broken foot.
• I am at the house, alone with two young boys, one of whom is sleeping.

I notice there are cows out. Everywhere.

Following is a synopsis of the IM conversation I have with C.G.:

Me: there are cows out! I don't know where they got out. if you can come sit in our house, I can put them in--Sawed-Off is still sleeping
Me: lots of cows! they are everywhere!

C.G.: We put a bunch back in when we came home from taking the truck. I don't know how they're getting out. Why don't you come up and get me and we can try to get them back in.

Me: I would but Sawed-Off is sleeping.
Me: I can't leave him alone here

{ME not realizing all of C.G.'s weekend guests have left, and her truck is down here.}

Me: I can try to do it myself with the four wheeler, I just need someone here in case Sawed-Off wakes up
Me: it looks like there is fence down in the orchard

C.G.: I don't have my truck here to come down.

Me: crap! I'll be right there.


I leave H-Bomb in the house with a sleeping Sawed-Off; "just stay in the house until Grammy gets here. I'll be right back."

I drive my jeep up to pick up Laid-Up C.G. She comes to sit with the kids. The cows have, in the meantime, found the hay.

The hay is a bit of an aside. We are running out. We had been feeding some 12 tons per day before shipping, and shipping ended up getting delayed a few days. The cows are used to getting fed hay, instead of scrounging around in the desert. In short, they've become lazy. They are wanting to be fed. Until they get pushed to their respective winter ranges, they will continue busting out all over the place. We can't have random cows eating all the hay when we still have other cows to feed.

C.G. decides the cows that are out have Bear Claw brands, so that means they need to be pushed back into the horse pasture. They have most likely busted out of the bottom of the horse pasture and come up the creek. From there, there is a weak spot in the fence, just a couple strands of smooth wire, between them and Freedom. C.G. suggests starting up the tractor: "maybe they'll think they're going to get fed and follow you."

I zoom out to the tractor and trailer on the four wheeler. I haven't driven the tractor in, oh, years. I try to start it. Can't. I circle around the cows on the four wheeler, trying to get them away from the hay at least, but they are hungry bitches. They don't budge. I race back to the house to ask C.G. how to start the tractor. I had forgotten one crucial step: make sure it's in neutral before you turn the key. Duh.

I race back and jump into the tractor, which thankfully starts right up. By now, the cows and horses in the horse pasture are crowding the gate, which means if I open it up to put the other cows in, they will bust out as well. That would be bad. I'm not even sure I can leave it open long enough to drive the tractor and trailer through there.

Think, cowgirl, think!

I put the tractor in gear, in low, and start it heading toward the gate. Those cattle around the hay don't bat an eyelash. In seconds, I decide what I have to do. I aim the tractor toward the gate, and bail out. That's right, I jump out of the moving tractor and Run As Fast As I Possibly Can in slip-on Keens to the four wheeler.

As I race the four wheeler around behind the cows, trying to push them off the hay and toward the tractor and ultimately the gate to the horse pasture, I realize with horror I have forgotten one little thing about our tractor. Just one, shall we say, minor detail.

And I don't know how to say it like a cowgirl or a rancher, so I'll just say it like a sailor: the tractor has a list. No, not a grocery list or a to-do list, I mean it veers sharply to the left.

Out in the vast fields, it isn't a big deal at all. Not much to run into. In among the buildings, it is a HUGE deal. As I make the first pass on the four wheeler behind the cows, I look up to see this:

The tractor listing sharply left, with the forks about three feet from the front side of ABEG's precious half a million dollar barn.

I say words that would impress both a sailor AND a rancher. I race toward the tractor on the four wheeler, jumping off the moving four wheeler with barely enough time to put it in neutral, climb into the tractor and grab the wheel, the tractor's forks just a foot or two from the $500,000 barn. I realize I said this twice. I need you to understand the severity of the situation. And tractors ain't cheap neither.

The trailer narrowly misses grazing the four wheeler. And I am not even exaggerating there; it passed less than a foot from the four wheeler.

And the cows? Still have not moved an inch from the luscious hay.

I park the tractor and turn it off. I opt for the four wheeler, which is much easier to control. I daren't open the gate, by now all the rest of the horses and cows have heard and seen the tractor coming! They are ALL crowding the gate, anticipating dinner.

There is a small gate that leads into a corral, then empties into the horse pasture. I decide that this, Obi-Wan, is my only hope. I open it, and pray the rest of the animals don't see me doing this. It's like an open invitation to the Hay Buffet.

Then I'm back on the four wheeler. These bitches are stubborn. They do not want to get off the hay, not one bit, thank you. My throat is sore from all the yelling, I kid you not. And there are awesome donuts and skid marks and huge clouds of dust all over the ranch. But by god, I got those cows in. It took me many passes and chasing cows back and forth and back again, but finally some of the cows went in. I wanted to count them through the gate, but it was getting dark and there were still more cows--as soon as I moved the first dozen or so off the hay and toward the little gate, the next bunch discovered the All-You-Can-Eat Buffet.

I could get them going toward the gate, but then they would bunch up in a little corner. Of course there are some fence posts and equipment or some crap piled up there, just close enough to the fence that I couldn't fit the four wheeler through there. And my dog, Mia, the guard dog, isn't quite fluent in the cowdog way. She helped me some, don't get me wrong, but a lot of the time she was in the wrong place, or just in the way. Luckily I didn't run over her with the four wheeler.

So, on it went, me racing around the cows, this way and that and and backwards and around in circles, chasing them away from the hay bales time and again, because those bitches just kept circling back. Whatever you say about cows, they know where the food is. Then chasing them around and around the buildings and the machinery and the trucks and the trailers and the equipment and the motor home and the boat and the what-have-you and getting off the four wheeler and running and then back on and finally through the little gate. I must have chased at least 30 cattle in this way, all by myself, before #1 and his brother came home.

I said, hoarsely, "I hope these bitches are supposed to be in the horse pasture, because that's where I put them."

#1 opened up the wood gate, and proceeded to let all the damn horses out. Just to make some extra work as the sky was darkening. He and his brother got the horses in, pushed in more cows. I raced around ranch headquarters, making sure there were no more stragglers, all the way up to C.G.'s house.

I don't know if you know this, but it is damn hard work driving a four wheeler around the way I did. I'm not kidding. And my throat hurts. But it was a hell of a lot of fun! And if you tell C.G. what I almost did to her barn and her tractor, I think I will have to hurt you.

Stranger Danger on the Ranch and Beyond

So I've been talking with H-Bomb about strangers. We get lots of people who just come down here, ignore the "Road Closed to Through Traffic" and the "Stop" signs and just drive on in. Some of them are lost, most of them are tourists, some of them are card-carrying "members" of ABEG who think because they donated $10.00 to the cause four years ago, they have a right to "look around" the ranch. Most of them are idiots. Let's just put it this way: I have a dog who protects our house and family. I do not call her off unless I know you or you can explain yourself, so you better stay in your damn car. I'm just sayin'.

Then there are all the friends of C.G.'s and friends of friends and...it is endless.

I first explained that strangers are people we don't know. I told H-Bomb that we don't talk to strangers, we yell "STRANGER" and run away to find Mommy or Daddy or someone we know. It was going pretty well, the quiz, until I got to the question: What do we do if someone tells you they lost their puppy, and will you help them look for it?

H-Bomb has a soft spot for animals. "We would need to go and help them find their puppy! Because they would be sad without their puppy!" Oh boy. I tried to explain it further, but this is very confusing for a four year old.

The confusion has become compounded in recent days. Yesterday we drove around looking for C.G.'s dog, which the day before hopped out of her truck at the pizza place in town. So, driving on the mountain, of course I stopped and asked anyone I saw who was camping, four wheeling, what-have-you. As we drove up to someone's camp, H-Bomb asked, "Mommy? Are they strangers?"

Crap. Yes, they're strangers but we need to ask if they've seen C.G.'s dog. I suppose if they aren't friendly, I'll run away. Crap. Crap. This is sounding lame, and it doesn't really make sense either. It's not okay for someone to ask you about a dog, but we can ask anyone we see about a dog? See what I mean??

Then, we finally got home, no dog, and were approaching the ranch when I saw a strange truck driving down the drive. I sped up, we had to see who's going to the ranch when we're not expecting anyone. H-Bomb: "Who is in that truck? Is it a stranger?"

Well, let's go see. It was a guy, who I had met once before who is an old friend of RanchHand (R.H.) and Wifey. Guy (this alias may be used again in the future for other people not in the picture enough to earn their own distinction) is here to work on the finish on C.G.'s new cherry staircase. Guy starts talking to H-Bomb a bit, while we showed him how to get into C.G.'s house. H-Bomb is being shy. I say, "now H-Bomb, Guy isn't really a stranger, he's R.H. and Wifey's friend." (but technically he is a stranger to us!!)

See how complicated this is? Sometimes I think this is too much. It's really hard. And it is scary. Just stay close to me, H-Bomb and Sawed Off. I'll protect you with my mama bear fury.

R.I.P. Joe

We miss you, buddy.
8 September 2007