ready for the shearers
heading up the chute
Alejandro helping ewes up the chute
bucks ready for a fleecing
shearing with skill
down the ramp
Ten pounds lighter!
shorn sheep
Cora with wool packer
wool ready to pack
Oscar and Meghan
Pepe processing ewes
all hands and the cook
bucks in waiting
December rams
bring May lambs
Put me in, Coach!
Maximiliano and Timeteo
Meghan loading bucks in the trailer
Love at last!
ewes heading for the sort
Ewes through the dodge gate,
dart left, duck right, straight ahead—
Destiny awaits.
Edgar at the sorting gate
guard dog hard at work
Avencio catching a ewe
in the corrals
Rhen helping Avencio and Oscar to doctor a ewe
crossing the Battle Creek bridge
Bringing the cows and calves home
In the fall, the cows and calves are gathered into private pastures near the Home Ranch. They have spent the summer months grazing on National Forest permits. It takes several “back rides” to make sure that all the critters have come down from the summering ground, and we collect them into pastures where they can graze and hang out until it is time to sort them. Here are some views of our family, friends and employees moving cows and calves closer to home. Soon it will be time to load the calves onto trucks to their new homes, and the cows onto trucks to go to winter pastures and cornfields where they will ruminate and gestate until spring.
The cows and the sheep have been sharing the Sheep Mountain pasture.
Trailing past the sheep camp.
Avencio and the sheep are staying behind.
Heading past the reservoir
trailing along the ditch
a ewe and lamb came along
crossing the Little Snake River bridge
Will and Micah heading for the gate
Eamon counting cows through the gate
the fishermen were not disturbed
Rhen practicing for mutton busting
Tiarnan, winning her over with a hug
Riding Rough Stock
The rough stock waits in the chute.
Riders tug, straighten their chaps,
screw down their hats, squint and gauge
the critters they aim to ride.
“Now, folks” chants the announcer,
“The third go-round, Mutton Busting.
The riders are six and under,
weighing less that fifty pounds.”
Tears flow as a young rider
hugs tight to his father’s leg,
snuffles into the dusty denim.
“Cowboy up!” A brave nod.
A brother and sister–busters both–
adjust the numbers pinned to
their shirts, tug at the safety vests,
exchange cowboy hats for helmets.
This is serious business.
The rider drops onto the back
of the ewe with the wary look.
This isn’t her first rodeo.
Some grab the bucking strap
snugged behind her front legs—
a handhold on the shorn sheep.
Some wrap their arms around her neck.
“Let me tell you about this critter,”
Blares from speakers overhead,
“She’s known as Baaaaad Bessie—
and she’s never been ridden!”
The rider swallows, and nods,
and the chute gate flies open!
The ewe bolts like lightening
spies the white line dusted in the dirt,
And jumps! The youngster tilts
and turns, seeking mom, or dad,
and grips harder on every wooly bit.
The ground looks hard.
Then boom, the dirt rises up,
grit fills teeth, nose and eyes,
suddenly flooded with tears.
The crowd cheers, and claps.
Angelic, the Rodeo Queen appears,
smelling sweet—with hugs and smiles,
and a salute to bravery,
with a dollar bill, a shiny ribbon.
The mutton buster remembers
how the bronc riders do it,
brushes off the dirt and the tears,
and waves to the crowd.
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