“Branding” Farm life 101: Things I’ve learned since marrying the rancher’s son.

For those with weak stomachs, today’s post might be difficult.  Branding calves is one of the most fascinating and yet disgusting processes, I have ever witnessed.  The smell of burnt flesh, the rising smoke, the calf bawling in pain, so much pain poop ejects out of the backend of his ridge body like a fire hose.  You wouldn’t believe how much poop.  My least favorite job is manning the board that blocks they’re retreat out of the squeeze shoot for that very reason.  It’s covered in that stinky goo after only one.  Now imagine after fifty or so…Blah!

I’m sure many of you are wondering why rancher’s still use this antiquated technique.  Honestly, they don’t have a choice.  If they want to sell their cows at market, all cattle must be branded with the registered brand issued to the rancher by whatever state they live in.  Placement is also important.  My father-in-law’s registered brand is what’s called a rafter “E”, or the shape of a roof over a letter E.  He must always place this brand on the left rib of all his cattle.  He may not be the only rancher with this brand shape, so they use placement to differentiate between similar brands.  Now if he moved to a different state and his brand and placement were already taken, he would have to choose another.  This registration is used to ensure the cows belong to him, but also can be used by the F.D.A. to track any contaminated beef back to its source.  See, it’s a necessary evil.    

Though I’m sure some still think it barbaric, technology has improved the process a bit. My father-in-law no longer scorches the hide repeatedly with a red-hot straight iron until the brand shape is complete.  He uses a pre-fabricated electric iron molded into his brand shape, to create his mark.  This electric iron keeps the metal at a constant temperature, and cuts down on the number of times a calf must endure the searing pain to just once.  Now if only I could find a job to do on branding day that didn’t leave me wanting to burn my clothes after we finished.

Posted in Farm Life 101 | Leave a comment

#6 Neighbors: It’s not a foreign country. It’s a small town!

Let’s say you’re moving into a new place and find yourself inundated by strangers introducing themselves and asking you to come over for dinner?  Within a few short days, these strangers not only know the names of your children, but seem to always watch them play while working out in their yards. 

If you are from the city, you’re probably thinking stalker, or molester.  If you just moved to a small town, this actually might not be the case.  That supposedly new nosey neighbor of yours is an extra set of eyes, watching out for the safety of your children.  It’s called being neighborly, something that rarely happens in cities anymore.

In the city, if your neighbor has unsightly weeds growing in his yard, you go to the H.O.A. to complain.  In a small town, you go to the neighbor and offer to help them pull those weeds.  There is no need for alarm systems, or watchdog organizations in a small town.  People living there naturally look out of each other.  Warning phone calls in the middle of the night when a strange car pulls into your driveway are not unheard of.

Now some of you might consider these types of actions intrusive to your privacy, but it’s one of the things I miss most since leaving my small town.  Imagine getting a knock on your front door when you’re so sick you can hardly walk, and there’s your neighbor with large container of soup.  Oh yeah, give me a nosey neighbor any day.

Posted in It's not a foreign country. It's a small town! | 2 Comments

Grownups: Things I wish I would have known when I was fifteen.

When I was young, I thought grownups had it easy—masters of their own worlds.  I couldn’t wait, no more pop quizzes or endless homework from teachers who obviously had nothing better to do with their sad lives than torture me.  No more parents telling me when to be home or doling out chores—I would finally be free. 

As time has passed, I’ve come to realize the great illusion of youth.  None of us is ever free.  You are beholden to your parents who offer physical, emotional, and financial support.  Grownups are beholden to the bills they must pay for their own support.  Teachers hold in their hands the ability to destroy your college dreams.  A boss can destroy a grownups life with two words, “You’re fired”.

Yes, life as an adult is not as easy as I thought it would be.  But it sure is nice to stay up late every once and awhile eating a big bowl of ice cream—even if I did have to buy it.

Posted in Things I wish I would have known when I was 15. | 2 Comments

“The kitty factory” Farm life 101: Things I’ve learned since marrying the rancher’s son.

On a farm, the feline population, just like the cows, fluctuates constantly and dramatically.  From having nearly…let’s say thirty, to maybe only four left after a few months.  No, No, it’s not because the ranchers are raising and eating the cats—everything else is.  Cats are important to farms, they keep the rodent, and rabbit population down, but cats are also a tasty meal for coyotes, owls, and even rattlesnakes.  They also get chopped up in machinery when they’re not careful about their surroundings out in the field—like I explained earlier, in the “organic hay bale.”  But not to worry.  Give it a few months, and you’re swimming in cats again.  How is this possible?  Well, they breed almost as fast as rabbits, and abandoned litters of kittens are constantly left on the rancher’s doorstep.  Really, if you think about it, as a natural born hunter, living on a farm would be a dream-come-true for a cat.  They have the freedom to roam where they want, with acres of hunting ground and plenty of prey to eat.  The only price—the other eight lives of the nine they supposedly have.  Cats never live longer than a year or two.  Now every once and while, you’ll get one that survives to the ripe old age of five or more.  But honestly, by that time, they’re so wild and nasty to look at I don’t blame the coyote for refusing to eat it—I don’t even want to pet it.

Posted in Farm Life 101 | Leave a comment

#5 High School Sports: It’s not a foreign country. It’s a small town!

 The folks in small towns love high school sports, especially football and basketball.  During those seasons, there are printed game schedules in every shop window, men reminiscing about their athletic feats from years past, and practically everything draped in the school colors—even the people.  I always felt bad for those other small schools whose colors happen to be orange—eeww.  Everyone in town attends the games—young and old alike.  It’s doesn’t even matter if the school is having a winning season—they are hard-core fans.  Trust me—my high school hardly ever had a winning season, yet year after year, we never gave up hope.  So, if you ever drive into a small town and find it deserted, don’t assume it’s a ghost town.  The high school might be playing an away game.  Check that store window for a game schedule to know for sure.

Posted in It's not a foreign country. It's a small town! | Leave a comment

Perceptions: Things I wish I would have known when I was fifteen.

All right young ladies, I want you to sit back and think about the most popular, beautiful, seems to have-it-all girl in your class.  Can you picture her?  The flowing locks, dazzling smile, a rockin’ bod that looks perfect in everything.  Have you ever thought to yourself, “Man it must be great to be her.”  Or better yet, “If only I could be her—things would be easier.”  Don’t you believe it.  All women have insecurities and trials in their lives—even this so-called vision of perfection.  And if she’s reading this right now, she’d whole heartily agree.  The popular are criticized, the shy overlooked, the flirts seen as less than virtuous, the list is endless.  Don’t wish for someone else’s life.  You’ll miss the fabulous one that’s right in front of you.  How fabulous—is up to you.

Posted in Things I wish I would have known when I was 15. | Leave a comment

“The Organic Hay Bale” Farm Life 101: Things I’ve learned since marrying the rancher’s son.

At a western-themed party, the hay bale is a popular decoration you might find.  Yet, I won’t sit or even touch one with my bare hands anymore.  And it’s not because of allergies.  When the swather cuts the alfalfa (hay) it mows down everything, and I mean everything: the sunbathing snake, field mice, the unsuspecting cat out hunting those mice, and if the farmer is lucky, a couple of those pesky gophers.  All those little animals are chopped up and hidden within the freshly cut grass, which, of course, is run through the baler and compressed into that clean-looking bale of hay you see at the party.  Yet, inside, there might be a dehydrated hunk of fur or meat lurking.  Mmmm…doesn’t that make you want to have hay bales at your next get together?

Posted in Farm Life 101 | 1 Comment

#4 Dragging Main: It’s not a foreign country. It’s a small town!

“Dragging Main” has to be one of the quirkiest things teenagers in small towns do for entertainment.  The premise is simple.  On Friday and Saturday night, drive your car, packed with your friends, up and down Main Street.  I know what you’re thinking, “Whoo-hoo!  How did they ever come up with something so exciting?”  But with the right group of friends, it really can be fun.  Cars keep their windows down, so you can even laugh and converse with kids in other vehicles.  Could you imagine doing this in a large city?  A long string of obscenities is what you’d probably hear from the other vehicle—or worse—have gun pulled on you.  This is where growing up in a small town is such an advantage, especially if your small town is isolated a good distance from larger ones, like the one I grew up in.  It’s more than a sense of community, but a family, knit tightly together.  If you ever have the opportunity to visit on the Friday or Saturday night, keep the windows down and bask in the difference.

Posted in It's not a foreign country. It's a small town! | 1 Comment

“Resolutions”: Things I wish I would have known when I was fifteen.

How do you define yourself when people ask who you are?  If you had asked me in high school, I would have said, “I’m a tomboy, softball player.  I cheer because I like to stunt with the yell-leaders (boy cheerleaders)—not because of the little outfit.  If you see me wearing a dress, I’m on stage acting.  I don’t do girlie.”  At that age, my list of “I don’t do’s” was very long.  If something looked even remotely “girlie”—forget it—I wouldn’t even try it. 

After high school, I was forced to try new things.  For my theater scholarship, I had to take formal dance lessons.  You’ll never see me on “So you think you can dance”, but to this day, I love to watch all forms of dancing, and still practice pirouettes in my kitchen.  I had to have my lifeguard training to work at a kid’s camp for the hearing-impaired in Oregon.  I’m still an avid swimmer, and wish I could have competed in high school.

In this New Year, don’t be like I was in high school.  Look for opportunities to try new things.  You don’t have to be the best at something to enjoy it.  Everyone has hidden talents and gifts.  You have to stretch beyond what’s comfortable to find them.

Posted in Things I wish I would have known when I was 15. | Leave a comment

Improve the “you” this year

The New Year is a very special time—a time to reflect on the past, but also an opportunity to consider a course for your future.  Maybe you like the direction your life is going, but if you don’t, it’s never too late to change.  Okay, let’s face it, we all have things we’d like to fix about ourselves, so this post is for all of us. 

Start by setting a goal—a realistic goal—you’ll only frustrate yourself if you pick near impossible feats like climbing Mount Everest, or losing 100 pounds in six months.  Once you have a goal in mind do more than just write it down—tell someone.  The buddy system makes you accountable to more than yourself, and is a great way to keep you motivated.

I find breaking goals down into daily requirements works best.  I don’t just say I’m going to write another novel this year.  Even thinking about the hundreds, and hundreds of pages I will have to write to do this gives me a headache, so I simplify.  I will write at least two pages every day—except Sunday—even crazies like me need a break every once and while.  Two pages a day isn’t nearly as scary.  And is something I can easily accomplish, which gives me the daily boost of encouragement I need to keep going.

Anything you want to be or do is possible—even Mount Everest if you want.    All the little goals you chip away at are building you closer to greater things.  Just believe in yourself.  The only one standing in your way is you.

Posted in Things I wish I would have known when I was 15. | Leave a comment