Define Ranching

Dear Reader,

What does a week in the life of a rancher’s daughter look like? You’d probably be surprised. If you are thinking of an episode of “Little House on the Prairie” … you aren’t too wrong, but maybe add in an episode of “Psyche” and “24” and you will get a more accurate picture. We use modern machinery, we have cellphones and computers, and are very much in touch with the outside world… it’s just a matter of all of those things working. The other day I had to carry feed to the cows by hand because the 4-wheeler was out of commission. Sometimes when a storm comes in, our cellphone service goes out (which is also our internet service). And while we are just as connected as anyone else is about what is going on in the world, it is a little easier to turn it off when we need a break.

So, what does my week look like as the oldest daughter in a ranching family? Since graduating college, it is definitely a lot less stressful. I have a part time job as a secretary at a local church, in addition to working with my family on our ranch. My responsibilities primarily include feeding the heifers and cows that we keep in the pastures close to our house. Besides that, I help with anything as the need comes up, from helping to get cows back in that have escaped to washing dishes that seem to keep escaping from their cabinets and into the sink. In between this I write a column for a local agriculture magazine, watch movies, and read books.

Unlike what you might think, most of my days do not start out on horseback as the sun rises in the middle of nowhere with an eagle screeching in the background. They usually start as I groggily walk from the house to the barn. After I get the 4-wheeler going, I fill up my buckets and am off to feed the cows. Sometimes this can take some finesse; often we have horses in the pasture that I have to feed first and there are certain cows that I try to avoid. But after doing this while still half asleep every morning, it soon becomes second nature. After I feed the cows, it’s inside to get dressed for work where I transform into my secretary alter ego. This usually means going from jeans, boots, and a t-shirt to nice jeans, a cardigan over my t-shirt, and my All-Star Converse (unfortunately this alter ego does not include a cape).

After work there is no telling what I am coming home to. Usually I come home, take a break and then, along with my three younger sisters and little brother, start on whatever chores that need to be done for the evening. If there is fence to be mended, I usually feed other people’s animals so they don’t have to stop their work on the fence. Sometimes I come home to a building project that needs all hands on deck to get it done before dark.

 Even though the ranching life may not be exactly what you thought, there are still days where it surpasses anything you could imagine. Last winter, I went out with my dad and one of my sisters to hunt cows (Translation: search for and trap cows). The pasture where we were at was always somewhat of a milestone growing up because of its roughness; we were only allowed to go there when we were old enough to take care of ourselves. There were plenty of boggy spots, uneven ground from phosphate mining, and water moccasins everywhere. Yet there we were, with smiles on our faces, excited for a day of tracking and catching wild cattle.

That day my sister and I tailed a heifer that our dad had roped. (Tailing is technique where you use the tail of a cow to pull it off balance and get it to lie down). That heifer probably weighed three times more than me and my sister combined, but we got her down. Later we had a bunch of cows that we had worked so hard to capture bust, jump, or however you want to define destructively exiting the cow pens.  On that same cow hunt we saw a flock of baby sandhill cranes as we crossed a creek – babies that I would have snuck home if I had saddle bags (…and if it wasn’t probably illegal).  That day my horse also almost stepped on a bobcat that I thought was a dog. Only to remember as it ran away that we did not bring, or in fact own, any dogs of that color.

On that trip, if we had not caught any cows or even seen any cows it would have been a good day. If we had not come across the baby sandhill cranes or if my horse had not almost stepped on a bobcat, it still would have been a day to tell stories about. Just the simple fact that I was out there doing what I love with the people I love made it a good day and a day to tell stories about. To go riding through the pines and smelling that sweetness, to be plodding through the cypress trees feeling like I could disappear forever in the swamp – that made it a good day. Ranching days are not all like that one day, but days like that one are the kind of days we do it for.