Gathering Cows
When morning finally arrived, following breakfast, I followed wrangler Chris to the corral. I asked him if he needed help. Although I figured he didn't, he said, "sure." Catching a horse in a small corral filled with 25 head is no job for a greenhorn. Chris used a rope to catch his horse. I'd always used grain or carrots. Shortly thereafter, John arrived and set to matching each guest with a mount.
My horse was a true gentleman. A Quarter Horse-Percheron cross called Joker, he became my new best friend. During the week, each wrangler at some point took the opportunity to tell me I'd been given, "the best ride on the spread." Horses out West work long and hard, and it showed, for every guest was pleased with his or her mount. Once all were saddled, we headed toward the grazing land.
Riding from camp, we began to experience the big sky, the sheer size of the mountains, and the realism each of us sought. We spooked the first of many mule deer while climbing the ridge, stopping halfway, allowing the horses to blow. Reaching the top, John directed us as we spread out for our first task: locating and gathering pairs of cow and calf. We were working cattle on horseback!
Once a sufficient number had been gathered, John guided us as we pushed the cows toward the holding pen. When pushing cows, at first you work them slowly, taking advantage of the herd instinct. You hope all will stay with the herd, thus minimizing the need to catch strays. That's what real cowboys do. As you near the pen, you push harder, taking advantage of this same herd instinct. You want the cattle inside, not milling about the entrance.
Once penned, the cows were separated and pushed outside, while the calves remained. Cows make a lot of noise, particularly when 50 mommas are separated from their babies for the first time. Now the real work began.
My most memorable dude-like moment occurred when I saw how the calves were roped. Rather than head each and then flank him as I'd anticipated, the wranglers caught each calf with a loop around the rear feet. Called "heeling," a calf is more easily controlled. Watching the wranglers for a while, John asked me if I was ready.
"That's why I'm here," I replied.
Branding Time
Wrestling calves is a two-person job. And yes, technique is important. As the heeled calf is pulled from the pen, one wrangler grabs the tail, the other takes the rope. Pulling upward on the rope and downward on the tail simultaneously, the goal is to flip the calf onto its side. Then the wrestler on the tail controls the head and front legs, and the wrestler on the rope is responsible for the rear legs.
Handling the rear of a calf requires multitasking. Until it's fully controlled, constant tension on the rope is a must. Once you're able to sit on the ground, with the calf laying on its left side (Wyoming High Country brands the right flank), you hold the right leg fully extended with your arms. At this point the loop is removed,
allowing the roper to return to the pen for another calf.
The left leg is restrained by placing your right foot just above the hock, pushing forward. Lastly (here's where Jennifer's advice helped and things were definitely undude-like), you cover the calf's rear end with your left foot to guard against being sprayed with that green stuff. No dude ever heard of green stuff, much less had to worry about getting any on him.
While the calf is held on its side, the brand is applied, an ear is marked, the calf is vaccinated, and the bull calves are castrated. All of this takes about a minute.
After branding that first day, I accompanied John and wranglers Travis, Jonathan, and Guthrie on a trip to bring three more horses to the camp. Remember that snowed-in road? We traveled it on horseback for four hours. As we rode, we experienced fast-moving clouds, sagebrush-covered fields, and endless mountain peaks as we rode.
Despite the hours in the saddle, the breathtaking views made every ache worth it. By days end, I was tired and saddle
weary, but totally exhilarated from the
experience.
Learning the Ropes
During the evenings, we spent time around the campfire, practicing our roping on a plastic steer head. The wranglers were patient and helpful. Being left-handed, I presented a special challenge. A lefty coils the rope opposite from a right-hander. I was taught the importance of making an ample loop, using the wrist in the swing, and aiming for the horn on the side of your throwing arm. Also, don't forget to take up the slack!
The following days were same as the first. We'd gather pairs on horseback until accumulating a pen full, separate calf from cow, then brand. On day three, I got my chance to rope. As expected, Joker was perfect. I'm proud to say I made five catches. Everyone was patient as I mastered handling the rope and Joker at the same time.
When I made my first catch, John photographed me as I pulled the calf from the pen. Everyone offered high fives. After all these years, I'd finally tried my skill, one of many high points of this ultimate adventure.
Every guest was given the opportunity to perform every duty. During the four days, we branded 400 head. That's work, not recreation. We also experienced the realities of ranching when quick moving storms passed through the mountains, soaking us to the bone.
Aside from working and branding, we rode some of the most glorious mountainsides imaginable. We saw black bears, mule deer, marmot, coyote, birds of prey, and sage hen.
On the last day, John led us to the Medicine Wheel. This sight, considered sacred by the Cheyenne and Sioux Nation is similar to Stonehenge. From grassy field bordered by snow still, to rock-covered summit, through groves of aspen, we experienced rides of a lifetime.
On getaway day, while the other guests were driven, I took advantage of the opportunity to join the wranglers and drive the saddle band off the mountain. Immediately I learned that herding horses is more challenging than cattle.
We led the herd into Collinwood Canyon, then followed them from mountaintop to desert floor. Along the way, we encountered low-hanging trees, creek beds so narrow we led our mounts on foot, dense fog, and intense heat. We eventually entered the Bighorn Basin. An encounter with a rattlesnake, the first of my life, topped this last day.
Lasting Memory
Flying home, as I reflected I tried to recapture all of it: the morning chill, horses munching grass outside of my tent, mountain views, mule deer, days without a shower, the smell of the branding iron, and, oh yeah, tails, rumps, and shoulders caked with "green stuff."
But what stays with me most are memories of the fine people. Lila, who coordinated everything with fine-tuned precision, wrestling calves with 71-year-old Connie, who took me under his wing. And of course, John, the consummate ram rod. He ran the drive, kept us safe, used his knowledge of the mountains to show us the views, and tended to each of us with the highest level of courtesy.
And lastly, the wranglers who shared the pride in what they do. Each one, in his or her own way, allowed me to enter this world, the world of a true cowboy.
And of course, Joker, what a ride!
