The truck is purring. The load of heifers is banging and bawling. The guys are calling to each other, trying to direct the driver back. We didn’t hire our drivers for their skill.

Danny gets in the truck himself. We mark the ditches he has to avoid by standing there holding flashlights. The tail-lights glow red. The heifers bawl. We hunch in our coats against the cold breeze. The truck creeps back. Ivan yells directions.

One try. Two. Danny knows what he’s doing and we are ready to unload. The gate is opened. The heifers hesitate. Sniff the opening. It’s an old chute, not perfect, but it’s better than the truck and they start scrambling off. Lori is on the fence counting them by the red glow of her head lamp.

We know the routine pretty well by now. We just don’t usually do it in the dark. Load after load will come in these few weeks. The end count will be 602. 602 heifers each weighing around 600 pounds. They are not our heifers. They belong to a feed-lot in Iowa. The feed-lot bought them from our area, and they pay us to feed the heifers for around a month and a half. Just until the feed-lot has room for them.

We girls were delighted to get the job and Dad was glad for the work it would provide for his trucks. We girls already put in many long hours fencing in harsh weather. We decided long ago that it is better to work hard for little pay and have fun than to work well-paying jobs we hate.

But sometimes we wonder why we think it is fun. Like tonight. It’s late. It’s cold. The guys made a fuss about coming to help with the truck. We girls took the job, not them. Tempers are on edge. The heifers always come off slow. Especially at night. Voices are lowered and lights are turned off, for the heifers are easily spooked.

There’s plenty of help, so I go to the other side of the corral to fill the water tank. The cattle are thirsty after coming off the truck. The noises and the stress fade when I move away from the chute. The stars are bright. The water is running. Calves push in trying to get the first drink. They raise their heads to look at me when I move. Ears up, eyes bright, noses dripping. I can see their breath when they turn against the light. And I can smell it - sweet and warm in the cold night. I draw it in deep. They are slurping at the trough, munching at the feeder, mooing soft.

I remember now why I love my job. Why we leap at the chance to work our butts off. It’s for moments like this. It’s for the smell of cows’ breath.

Actually his name is Flin, and he is Daniel’s German Shorthair puppy. He is about the size of my shoe. He embodies exuberance.

Flin & Jimmy

First we chase the horses out of the hay. The other dogs show up to help me and that is unbelievably exciting. Flin is galloping around in circles unsure whether to follow the horses, the dogs, or me. Finally he sits down, confused. Eyes wide.

I laugh and start to feed. It’s hard. Flin hangs on to my cover-alls and drags behind, growling. He attacks the pitchfork. He attacks the hay. I’m trying not to accidently stab him. He leaps into the middle of the hay I just started picking up and it scatters. I give up, laughing. I find him a bone. Distraction is the key.

Eventually the stallion is fed. I fetch the water bucket while tripping over Flin. The bone was only a minor distraction. Flin sits beside me while the bucket fills. His eyes are begging. Then he cries. I can’t deny him so I find him his own water dish and fill it. He drinks like he’s been wandering in a desert for days. But when I walk away with the full water bucket he can’t be left behind. He stays beside me, leaping straight up and down, trying to see in the bucket.

I’m still laughing.

It’s a lovely world seen through a puppies eyes. Makes me smell the hay. Watch the horses in fascination. Smile at the sound of running water. Love life.

I’m choring with exuberance.

Granite

You have probably heard of Walter Farley’s Black Stallion- the book and the horse. Because of him, multitudes of girls have dreamed of having their own black stallion. He’s a wild, beautiful horse with a bond to his owner that’s stronger than any rope.

Maybe I still have a bit of that dream left. Maybe that’s why I chose Granite when I chose a colt to train.

Granite is mostly Arabian just like The Black. And like The Black, he is crossed with another breed to make him taller. Only The Black was crossed with Thoroughbred; Granite is crossed with Mustang. In hindsight, it is probably not the best combination.

Granite is like The Black in other ways too. He’s black. He’s a stallion, though he will be gelded soon. He is beautiful with his chiseled Arabian head and arched neck. He’s long legged. He’s athletic. He’s sensitive. He’s wild.

Granite is probably the worst choice I could have made if I was looking for an easy, trainable horse. I won’t admit how long I have been working with him. We are still working at liberty with no ropes, no halter. I know better than to try that on him yet.

That doesn’t mean we haven’t made progress. It takes a very long time to earn the trust of a horse like him, and I want to do it well. I refuse to rush his training in any way.

I can lead Granite without a rope and halter though. He comes to me on command. He leaves on command. He is learning to want to be with me. And this week we made huge progress. Granite let me touch him.

And I’m happy with that. I think of the other colts that are progressing more quickly, and I don’t regret choosing Granite one bit. The other colts are alright, but Granite is my favorite.

Earning Granite’s trust will be a victory I’ll never forget. Any tiny bit of progress can make my day. I’ll cry the day we sell him.

Granite is my black stallion.

Emily and Rez

Pollyanna is the undisputed boss of our herd of horses. She has first rights to all food and water, and she has for years. When she throws her angry look at one of the other horses, they don’t argue. They get out of her way.

Except Rez. Rez is a half-pint kid’s pony that stands half as tall as the other horses. He wants what he wants when he wants it. The other horses can tower over him with look that says they’re willing to kill, and he doesn’t care. They can come at him with teeth bared and he doesn’t care. The only time Rez will move is if the others actually get their teeth into him. Then he moves just as far as he absolutely has to.

I knew he was stubborn and could get what he wanted just because the other horses got tired of driving him away. I didn’t know how much of an attitude he really had though, until I watched him at the water trough.

Rez was the only one drinking when Pollyanna strode up with a look that would have made any other horse scoot. But Rez didn’t scoot. He ignore Pollyanna until she came up beside him. Then he turned on her with a look that clearly said, “Keep you face out of my water!”

“O, Rez,” I thought. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Pollyanna didn’t kill him. She drove him away, but she looked more tired of him than angry. One of these days Rez is going to be right beside Pollyanna when she is first to the water and food, just because she’ll get tired of sending him away. Pollyanna won’t lose her position though. The other horses will never follow Rez. They’ll just get sick of him.

I know people like Rez, and I know that I can be like him. When I think everyone around me is being mean, it’s  usually because I’m pushing for what I want when I want it. And no one has a right to tell me what to do anyway. Well maybe some of them don’t, but there is something else I want to tell you about Rez.

Though he is getting what he wants, he is not happy. He is too busy fighting for his rights to enjoy anything. And he’s not making any friends.

I had to stand downwind to open the gate as Ivan drove through, and I was liberally showered with hay seeds. As I closed the gate again, Ivan tried to set down the bale. It promptly rolled down the hill in my direction, unrolling as it went. The hay blew away nearly as fast as it unrolled. We still have hay drifted past the fence where the horses can’t clean it up.

Besides trying to keep them fed, the horses don’t normally cause us trouble. We got a light snow though, and the dancing flakes must have invited the horses to play. For no apparent reason, Tex and Nyota broke down the gate of their corral, then went through a hot wire fence to join the rest of the herd. After exciting the other horses, Tex and Nyota led them through another fence to freedom.

My sisters and I were huddled by the fireplace when Jimmy told us the horses were out. Lori looked pleased. It was a perfect excuse to ride the dirt bike. Melody claimed the 4-wheeler, and they both roared off to find the horses. I could hear them shouting and laughing as I worked on the fences.

The horses were soon back in, and we decided to leave Tex and Nyota with the herd for the night. Bad idea. They broke down the fence again, and that time we had to round them up in the dark.

But it went well, and I had to laugh at Nyota’s antics. The cold was invigorating, and I was cheerful when I came in.

I’m glad that all of life is not vacation.

Patience

We have a cat named Patience. For the longest time I couldn’t figure out why that was her name. She certainly is not patient when she’s hungry. She can yowl for food louder than any other cat I’ve met.

Yes, we do. I know we are unconventional, but the problems are not all our fault. We get the bad cows. (Imagine a smiley face here.)

It was July and about 100 degrees. My siblings and I were trying to round up the cows, and move them to new pasture. The holding pen was falling apart, and the cows did not want to be moved.

We corralled the ones we could, hauled them out, and came back for another load. The older calves were causing some trouble. One escaped at the last minute, and everyone on horseback took after him.

With horses on both sides, he had no choice but to run hard, straight ahead. He ran until he came to the fence, then followed it back to where he started, with a little help from Daniel.

I do not think the calf really caused the trouble. Daniel was dying for one of the cows to run, so he could chase it. When the calf escaped, it went right past Daniel. That is all I know.

So after Daniel had his fun, we got the rest of the herd into our ancient holding pen. Ivan and Daniel pushed the cows into the trailer. The rest of us were placed strategically around the corral, to back up the fence. It should have been enough, but one cow is crazy. She is always wild and hard to load, so she jumped out anyway. Ivan wanted to cuss.

Those of us with horses went after her. We were still having fun, and it did not take us too long to bring her back.

Near the corral, the cow bolted again. Melody and her horse, Filly, are the fastest. They were beside the cow before she went anywhere, shouldering her in a circle. Filly had to force her, for the cow was running crazy now.

Before they all could make the circle, they reached the nearest fence. Melody and Filly stopped hard, just in time. The cow did not. Pieces of the fence went flying when she hit it. It did not kill her, but she went down. We were not having fun anymore.

It took some convincing to get her up again, and then she took off. Ivan was on foot, trying to turn her. The cow did not care. She just ran right through him.

So Ivan bulldogged her.

This time she really refused to get up. We finally left her, and hauled away the rest of the cows. When we came back, the crazy cow was on the other side of the pasture. So we rounded her up and brought her back to the corral.

At the gate, the cow bolted again. She did not get very far, but we could not turn her. Then she hit the fence, and went down. Does it sound like I’m repeating myself?

We finally just tied her to our roping horse, and drug her into the trailer. She got to her feet somewhere along the way.

We were not abusing her; we were trying to do what was best. But if Ivan would have had a rifle, he would have shot her. For real. We can always use more steak.

We unloaded her at the new pasture, a swamp, and never saw her again. Months later Ivan discovered her bones. He had high blood pressure for a week after we moved her. Finding her bones spiked it again.