The Devil Turned and Said, "Life is Cruel Out Here"

          We finished the fence a few days ago and I was relieved to not have to dig anymore three foot deep holes. The horses had been fighting, biting one another and so on, so we were looking forward to letting them out into the yard, with enough room that there should have been no conflict. All horses have different personalities. The seven are each very different and could probably be stereotyped parallel with something you'd see in high school.  Herman, Cheyenne, Thunder, Lil' Devil, Laya, Abandon, and Chap. Laya, Abandon and Chap are the 'popular' kids, but really they are just mean to the other horses. Very territorial. Herman is the 'best behaved', bought already trained, a friendly Paint, who loves attention ,but bucks when he has to leave the other horses...sometimes. Cheyenne and Thunder are the brother and sister pair we brought in the first few days. Kids of Laya, but sweet, friendly, and curious. Lil' Devil is an original. When the rancher inherited the ranch there were three hundred wild horses on the property. They rounded up all of them and took them to sale, except for one, who was hiding the whole time and reappeared about a month later. He was then named The Little Devil. He spooked like nobody's business and could run faster than you would believe. The rancher got on him only once and was thrown literally and figuratively for a loop. Since then Devil was deemed un-rideable and would rarely let anyone come near him, though we had gotten him to eat out of our hands in the last few weeks. Him and Herman stuck together a lot, but other times Devil would go off from the group and do his own thing. When we turned all the horses loose, they stuck together enough while still maintaining their space. At about six last night we saw that Thunder and Herman were on the wrong side of the fence and brought them in. We put all the horses in the coral after seeing that one of our posts for the fence had snapped in half. At that time, we couldn't find Devil and assumed he had spooked at whatever caused the fence to break and would come back later.
       The rancher had made delicious Maple Oatmeal bread and I had told him of my plans to stuff it with strawberries and make french toast in the morning. He wakes up at 4 AM pretty consistently and I merely guilt myself into walking into the kitchen at half past six. He is usually sitting at the kitchen island watching the radar for the weather, but this morning he was pacing in the living room when I woke up and I knew something was wrong. He turned around with watery eyes and said, "Devil's gone." "What do you mean?" I asked. He was obviously going to come back and be with the herd and get water. He may have wondered, but he wasn't gone. "I went up to the top to look for him and didn't see him, then came down and followed some blood I saw had splattered. He must have got stuck in the brush and punctured himself. He bled out." He walked towards me and hugged me. "I'll have to call John to get him out with the tractor. We'll have to clear some of the brush so he can get to him." "I'll pour you some coffee, then we'll go."
   Walking up, I felt hesitant. Not sure if I was ready to see the condition he might have been. I had heard coyotes last night before we went in and wasn't sure if I could walk up to a half eaten horse at seven thirty in the morning. He was already starting to bloat. Having fallen on his side, his hide quarters were on top of a pile of branches. Three of his legs were covered in blood. His mouth was slightly open, exposing a few of his top teeth. I couldn't see any immediate puncture wounds on his legs. Tracing back there were spots in the grass where he'd fallen, blood sprayed all over weeds, telling that there must have been more to it than his legs as the blood spray was more correlated to a rupture of an artery. We cleared all the fallen branches around him so that we could pull him out and take him to the 'bone yard', which is where all the dead animals get put. Having them near the house attracts all kinds of scavengers that aren't safe, though the turkey vultures circled all morning. The rancher wrapped a chain link around his hind legs and pulled him out with the pick up truck. It was only once we were able to move him that we saw what killed him. Devil had an eight inch puncture wound in his left chest. He'd spooked and ran into a fallen branch, probably turned and twisted to get away and bled out until he collapsed about thirty feet away. It was sad, horrible, honest and real.
   A few days after I had gotten to South Dakota, I saw a lone horse on the neighbor's property. "They probably got rid of the rest. That horse will either find water, or he won't. Life is cruel out here,"the rancher said.
   Life is cruel and Lil' Devil was proof. We knew there was lots of brush in that area, but had assumed the horses wouldn't get into it, because we assumed they wouldn't spook and break the fence. This morning when I woke up, it was absolutely gorgeous outside and it remained so all day. That's how things happen. Beauty and horror continue to walk hand in hand. I've always been a fan of the statement that life is a beautiful struggle, but sometimes we forget about the struggle. That each day is a feat and an accomplishment if finished. I felt bad and I liked Devil, and though my eyes welled up a few times, I never actually shed a tear until tonight, when we let the horses out again and found Herman, Laya, and Thunder, over by where Devil had died. They were looking for him.  They sniffed around and I found them licking some of the spots where there were pools of blood. Earlier in the morning, after we'd pulled Devil out, I went in to get the horses, and they were all acting strange. Half laying down, all together, they all came over when I walked in.
     In working with Cheyenne the last few days, I've asked myself how long it takes to tame something wild. I've found the answer in myself and in them. Something wild is always wild, because the spirit itself is free and that can never be tamed. It can behave and it can listen, but it can never be tamed and wild hearts never die. Devil's wild spirit will carry on over this ranch and those of us with something wild inside should never try and domesticate that feeling. Wear it with pride, be reckless, be free, be wild. It's what living is all about.

 Herman (left) with Devil (right) 

Branding, Castrating, Shots and Piercings: It's What's for Dinner,Tonight!

             The morning today was chilly, which means there is a lack of motivation. Because of this, we decided to go to town and buy some things we were out of or running low on. Mainly coffee filters and bacon. On the way to town, we passed a neighbor who we stopped to chat with. The rancher told the neighbor how we were going to help another neighbor brand later in the week. His response,"well, we're branding today, you two are welcome to come by and help." So we did. And boy was I in for a treat.

        Originally I was told we would be branding thirty five calves. We rounded up over a hundred cattle from the grassland driving in four wheelers. Once we got them all into a coral, we had to separate the calves from their mothers. This was done on foot in about six to eight inches of mud and shit. The process puts a lot of stress on the animals judging by their behavior. Calves hiding behind cows, running frantically, and so on. After about thirty minutes, we were able to get them all into two separate pens. At this point the calves were all trying to either crawl under the fence or charge through bent wire in the fence to get back to their mothers. The cows were all "calling?" for their young and sniffing through the fence to find their own. We had to get between 15-20 cows in a smaller pen so we could get 4-5 in a chute where they could get vaccinations and sprayed for flies. Meanwhile, any of the other cows that were not in the pen or the chute were behind me. I  was working the fence line to keep the panicked calves from escaping and the angry mothers from running through me. Once the cows were finished they were let out back into the pasture and would come back to the outside of the gate to try and find their calf through the fence.

    We arrived around one o'clock. At this point it is probably around three or four and we hadn't even touched the calves, which there were 62 of, not 35. We had to separate them to get about ten to go into a smaller pen, from which we could get them into the chute. I was unaware until riding on the back of a four wheeler that we would be "neutering" the bull calves. What he meant to say was castrating. I'd heard about how this was done, when we picked up the horses from another neighbor early in the week.  He told us a story of his grandson's friend vomiting everywhere after watching a lamb castration. I knew the procedure, but.... Okay, be aware I'm not going to spare any details so if you can't stomach this you should scroll down till you see a picture of something or whatever. 

         A chute is just a narrow passageway, but this one, for the calves, goes into a metal chute which can flip on it's side so you have the calves' side exposed for whatever you need to do. We had five things to do to each calf. Vaccinate, two different injections, ear tag, brand, and castrate if it was a bull calf. The calf is forced into the chute, where it put his head through the other side and is then somewhat restrained by clamps of the machine. From that point, the gates compress the calf and turn to put the calf at an angle. With it's neck and head sticking out, I had to give two injections into the neck, all while the panicked calf is thrashing around. The top gate compressing the animal has two latches that lift. If it's a bull, the second latch is lifted and the third person involved grabs the calf's outside leg and holds it while the fourth person castrates the bull. The third person is the one who gets shit on when the animal freaks out (yes, that happens). The fourth person, with a bucket of...sterilizing liquid? then grabs a pocket knife, slits the scrotum, reaches in and pulls out the testicle and cuts whatever cord is dangling from it, then proceeds to do the same for the other side. Tucking the leg back in and closing this latch, the third person opens the first latch and brands the cattle. This is when the smell of burning flesh and smoke take over, along with the horrid bleating noise of cries to mom. As soon as they stop thrashing enough, the second person pierces their ear and puts in the tag. After this, the chute is tilted back upright and the front of the chute is opened up so the animal can run out. It's the worst thing I could possibly imagine for these animals. BUT aside from the day they go to slaughter, this is the only time in their life they will be handled at all by humans. And today, we averaged a bull calf at a minute and forty seconds to do all those things. From the time it enters the chute to when it's let out.  Now I'm sure those are the worst and longest minutes of it's life, but it's all consolidated and I'd argue it's worse then slaughter because that's a quick shot to the head, it's not drawn out pain. You can't feel shit when you're dead.                       Anyways, the image I saw over and over again was calves,  aged 2-3 months in an angled chute, with eyes bulging, showing so much white you'd think they were having a seizure, thrashing their heads and kicking their legs, while their removed testicles are tossed into a bucket. The end result, as the calves are released to find their anxious mothers waiting outside the gate, I stare at the empty chute where the bottom is caked in mud and shit, smears of blood smudge the head stall, and a half dried out testicle sticks to the side. I couldn't make this stuff up. I asked for an experience and I got one.

   Despite the graphic scene I've just 'branded' into your mind, these cattle will now spend the next year out in the pasture, miles from being bothered by anyone, eating fresh green grass. A far better life than being force fed corn and cow parts in a factory somewhere. Not to mention this whole process I've just told you about doesn't have a whole lot to do with food consumption, so you can argue with me all day about eating cows and all the shit they have to go through, but this process goes for all the cattle, not just ones that would be used for beef, but also dairy, and breeding. That said, as a supporter of eating meat, anyone who drinks milk or eats beef should have to see this shit...if you can stomach it.

If you were scrolling, you can come back and read now. We worked with the cattle from a little after one to a quarter to seven at which point we had finished and went in for...steak dinner. It was good, but very fatty, so I skimmed a lot of it which made me feel rude. I discovered there are fifteen people in the one hundred square miles of the township and had a nice chat over dinner with the family who owned the cattle. That day will probably be one of my most memorable here, given how vivid it was. It's a shitty process and knowing that I was involved in the worst day of an animals life makes me feel a bit shitty, but giving vaccinations I was doing the most....well to do activity of the whole thing. We are supposed to brand later in the week as well, with another neighbor, but this will be on horses instead of four wheelers. Not that keen on it, but I came here to help, so that's what I'll do. Whatever it takes. 

John Deer, Thunderstruck, and Out of Shape

Let me just start off by saying, I am so glad we bought beer this week. It is now Thursday, on Monday I learned how to drive a tractor. It was probably the most expensive thing I will ever be allowed to be responsible for in my life at above eighty thousand dollars.

Most expensive thing I'll ever drive

The next day we went into Rapid City to buy things and pick up the rest of Steer #10 in Sturgis. We now have well over a hundred pounds of grassfed beef. We also went up through the Needle Highway and attempted to see the Crazy Horse Memorial and Mount Rushmore. Unfortunately, the weather South of us turned out to be such thick fog we couldn't see anything at either of the sites. The Needles were cool though and Bear Butte  and Custer Park, which we drove through to get there. We saw lots of wildlife including buffalo, which I later ate in one of the most delicious burgers I've ever had. Wasabi mayo, fried onions, and soy sauted mushrooms, Mmm Mmm Mmm. So fucking good. Spicy though, started tearing up three whole times. 

Needle Highway

 The next day we worked with the horses nonstop. We started off lunging and saddling one of the new ones, Thunder, who we got back at the beginning of the week. He's got some bad habits and the trainer he'd been with all winter said he was real stubborn. The rancher's cousin, who we stayed with on our way out said he was a mean horse. I'm glad to say he hasn't proved to be either yet. We rode out and around the east pasture with the other horse Herman, just to give them the exercise and he was fine.

When we returned, we lunged and saddled the other two who we would like to be rideable by the end of the summer. Cheyenne, the black horse, has never been ridden and Abandon (named that cause she was just dropped off at the ranch by no one knows who) has had a saddle on once. Lastly, I rode Chap, who is the one I wrote about refusing to move a few posts ago. He didn't do much. 

Thunder and I

Today, we rode Thunder and Herman down to the Cheyenne River. It was beautiful and hot. I now know that I am neither dirty or tan. I am very much both. I pretty much live and breath a combination of horse shit and bug spray and I kind of love it. Is that weird? After the two and a half hour ride today, we took a break and I went out to work with the other two non-saddle broke horses while the rancher collected fencing materials. Afterwards, I met him to help work on the fence. Though I have learned many things while here, I am now coming to terms with the fact that I am not strong.  So after last week of riding, realizing I am not in shape I am not met with this. We dug a three foot hole in the dirt, put in a post...yeah, actually when I say we, I really just watched. I did help dig the hole, but then he set the rusty barbed wire and when we stretched the wire to the other post where we broke the hole digging tool. He then went and got an extra handle he had, cut it to fit it into the brace, etc. Long story short it took forever, I definitely got a sunburn, and I'm incredibly NOT strong. Honestly, what the fuck does in shape mean, that you can run a marathon, or stop a crazy horse at a dead run, or nail a post six feet into the dirt? I can't do any of those things and I'm not skinny, so I'm stuck in a valley of uselessness inbetween the two. In my mind, I was thinking I'd return to boston looking like Paul Bunyan, not the case. I know when it's time for me to leave in nine days now, which is such a bummer, that I'll feel like I was just really getting somewhere, but some things are left unfinished so we can return to them later. In the meantime, I've decided I'm either really fucking cool, or absolutely batshit crazy and in serious denial. I hope I don't find out which one anytime soon. 

Legs like Jell-O

People in the country are weird. They have character which makes them interesting, therefore I like them. Much like you'd expect most people out here seem to be old and white, owning acreage that was given to them by the government, who stole it from the Native Americans. That being said I could count the number of people I've seen since arriving on my hands, so I'm not here to judge. We did pass a reservation on the drive in though. It was weird looking and depressing, but most of all small. I saw wheat with more land then these houses had.

This is Real

 Today it rained again. Regardless, the horses still needed to be worked so we worked three of them and then took two out. One basically refused to move the entire time, so he would get lunged on the spot nearly every twenty minutes. I rode away from the barn, despite bitter discontent from the horse I was on. I can't say whether it was the bugs or my presence, but Herman, the horse, was less than pleased after my refusing to take him back to the barn. Stopping on a short ledge to attempt as many bucks as possible, we eventually came to an agreement to go to the east pasture, where we worked circles until dizzy. During this time it had started to pour. We were soaked through and through by the time we got inside the house. It was one of those days where afterwards I asked myself, "do you even like horseback riding?" But that quickly turned around cause I totally do. Even when it's fucking exhausting. If I was in the shape I've been lying to myself about being in, I would probably be a lot less exhausted. I've never been sore from riding...in the timespan of the ten years I was riding. I've now had three to four years off and today I can hardly cross my legs.

Herman

Every time I change lifestyles, I automatically expect to become skinny. I had similar expectations here, but at this point I eat Oreos by 9am each day and drink fine wine every night. The Rancher is into wine, so despite the black dirt under my finger nails I still hold my pinky out while sipping it back. You'd think we'd drink whiskey. After dinner, we drove up to check the winter wheat crop. All this means to me is beer. Once we checked the field, we drove out to the breaks where rolling hills and valleys go down to the Cheyenne River, which is gorgeous. Actually the black horse I've been working with is named after the river because much like the river she won't go in a straight line, but instead zigzags in every which direction.

 I feel I've been living so many different lives over the course of my own. I went from a cheerleader to...well Colorado, then became a traveler and a writer, then a teacher, then from a ski bum to a backpacker to a rancher? Who the fuck am I? Just kidding all these things have helped me shape  who I am and who I'm becoming. Those things aren't who I am, they are what I do and there's a big difference.

Oh and I almost didn't have a first today, but then I got chased by a turkey. Thing came out of NOWHERE!

The Devil Himself

                         

Heifers: Dress them in Snake Skins and Fatten them up with Blueberry Pancakes

First time I attempted to drive a huge truck up a mountain made of mud.

First time sliding backwards down a mountain made of mud in that same truck.

Made for More than Just Walking

          Forgotten first that happened the second day that I wish I never saw. I saw a cow take a shit on another cow's face. Dead serious. It always bothered me when people would make ethics arguments about eating animals that are less intelligent. You don't get to eat something because it's stupid. If that was the case we would have eaten half the world's politicians. Just kidding...kind of. Anyways people say that sometimes when the discussion of eating dog comes up. This happened a lot to me because I lived in Asia. People would say how could someone eat dog, they're friends and pets and they're smart. That's a US thing and pigs are just as smart if not more intelligent than dogs. BUT if your an animal that let's another animal take a shit on your face, and I mean let's, not forced to because of tight quarters then you are indeed not a smart creature. 

 The first or second day when we were herding the neighbors cattle off the property, one was following another so closely behind, that it's face was in the leading cows ass. The lead cow then proceeded to take a shit...while the other one did nothing but keep it's head in place. What the fuck? I had no idea animals did this, I wish I still had no idea. Cows are dumb.

Since today wasn't that different from the rest I'm going to catch you up on a few weird things that have happened so far. 

Talking about heifers. The rancher says to me,

"Ya know, with heifers first they go out in the pasture with the bulls, if that doesn't work they use artificial insemination, and if still no they fatten 'em up and put 'em to market." 

  "Are you saying that's what's going to happen to me?" Though I know it wasn't his intent my first thought was, oh my God he's talking about me being single. No luck, then online dating, then I just eat myself to death and die. That sounds awful...I think.

That was a day ago or so he said that though. This morning he gave me a rattle snake skin and made blueberry pancakes. Again it rained and stormed until late late afternoon. We worked some of the horses in the morning, emptied out the school house, cut up a bunch of brush from fallen trees and did other manly shit like drive trucks. I didn't ride today and I'm still sore. Even my thumbs hurt. For dinner I made pork chops for the first time. They came out delicious despite the fact I filled the house with smoke to make them. I'm full and exhausted to the point where when I think about showering I think about how much easier a bath would be with just a person on the side to wash my hair for me. I don't want to lift my arms anymore... Is that weird?

Another first, I saw the big and little dipper tonight. When the sky is clear here you can see out for thousands upon thousands of stars.