A Bubble Off Plumb

Because ranching was our life and livelihood for many years, both the Red-headed Stranger and I experience disrupted sleep patterns at this time of year.

Calving mode is ingrained into our brain stems, so we wake up multiple times per night, getting up to wander around the house and check on things because there are no cows to check. No first-calf heifers, either.

Those days were the best of times and the worst of times. The worst because it was winter, we were in cold country, usually, and it is brutally hard work. The icing on the cake was there was always some lame brained heifer who wanted to kill us, our horses or her calf, or all three.

Occasionally we hit a stroke of luck and there was a heated, deeply bedded barn to calve in, complete with well built alleys to dive over when the mama cow came after one of us.

But just as often, it was in a lot or pasture, at night, in below zero temps and a stiff wind. And lots of coyotes to deal with. One or both of us kept a horse saddled around the clock and slept with one eye open from December until mid-April. I mean, have you ever seen a cow with a watch or a calendar? No.

But speaking for myself, it was also a glorious time to be alive, out there doing what very few folks now days want or have the skills to do. And if they do, they’re usually smart enough to find another line of work.

Imagine riding up on a laboring mother to be who is obviously in trouble, just worn out or is being harassed by coyotes. She may not want help, but she needs it. And we were there to give that hand up. A tug or two on a stout calf, a little repositioning of a turned back leg, or peppering a ‘yote and the situation was remedied. If it was really serious, long trot back to the truck, bring the trailer and take her to town for a c-section.

Yes, there were losses, and that is part of it. There were days when we didn’t want to work and neither did the horses. Days when time off was a mirage. Even being totally warm was outside the norm.

But there were other days, when calving was winding down, when the calves were tagged up and the herd paired out. Days when the first hint of spring was in the air and the calves were bucking, running and playing. Prairie dogs yipping warnings because the horses were too close to their burrows. Soft little breezes and the horse under you working like you always knew he could.

Those days, and the pride associated with a hard job well done, an outstanding calf crop and having made it through another winter and calving season, those days made the sleep deprivation worth it.

Maybe that feeling is what I’m looking for, wandering around the house during the odd hours of the night.