Montana Bunkhouses Working Ranch Vacations

Connecting Montana and the World

2011-09-29T11:45:00.000-07:00

“CONNECTING MONTANA and the WORLD
Through Global Education & Exchanges”

MONTANA CENTER FOR INTERNATIONAL VISITORS
Extends AFFLIATE STATUS to recognize
MONTANA BUNKHOUSES WORKING RANCH VACATIONS LLC
And
KAREN SEARLE

Citizen diplomacy is the concept that, in a vibrant democracy, the individual citizen has the right - even the responsibility to help shape U.S. foreign relations.

MONTANA CENTER FOR INTERNATIONAL VISITORS (MCIV) staff arrange meetings between international visitors and their professional counterparts to discuss common interests and to share ideals. These appointments often lead to continued contact overseas with mutual benefits. Through participation in person-to-person exchanges, Montanans across the state open their homes, offices, schools, and businesses to colleagues from abroad adding a welcomed touch of Montana hospitality to guest's experience.

MCIV has their headquarters in Bozeman, Montana. The annual MCIV President’s Dinner was held Sunday, September 18th, 2011. Among the selected community members recognized for their participation included:

MONTANA BUNKHOUSES’ for contributions to Citizen Diplomacy in Montana:
· Karen Searle was a speaker at the 2010 NCIV Regional Conference, “Working Ranch Vacations & the Emerging Geotourism Trend”
· Azerbaijan delegates met with Karen Searle to consider Montana Bunkhouses’ cooperative agri-tourism model and considered its application in their home country.
· Tibetan delegates were hosted by Karen Searle and the Barron Ranch. Delegates enjoyed ranch hospitality and an introduction to sheep and cattle ranching in Montana. The visitors found common ground in the lambing shed, checking for newborn calves, and enjoyed the camaraderie of shared meals.
· “Agri-tourism & Biodiversity Conservation” was the theme for the multi-regional project that featured Karen Searle as a speaker. The group included delegates from Brazil, Croatia, France, Ghana, Grenada, Israel, Philippines, Zambia
· This fall Montana Bunkhouses and the Padlock Ranch will host French delegates with emphasis on beef cattle management, specifically genetics and nutrition.
Montana Center for International Visitors (MCIV) is an affiliate of the National Council for International Visitors (NCIV) based in Washington DC. They are one of 92 U.S. non-profit centers dedicated to promoting global understanding through citizen diplomacy. One of the ways they try to foster global understanding is by facilitating the International Visitor Leadership Program sponsored by the U.S. Department of State. Montana hosts approximately 150 international leaders through this program each year.

For more information go to http://www.montanaciv.org/

Montana Bunkhouses in the Sydney Morning Herald

2011-09-15T14:03:00.000-07:00

Sydney Morning Herald - smh.com.au
Travel

Beneath the big sky
September 3, 2011
Home on the range ... guests can participate in the working life of ranches. Photo: Getty Images
Lance Richardson saddles up and joins 'dude cowboys' on a working ranch in wild Montana.
The clouds are low with rain but we've gone out riding anyway. While the horses struggle up stony foothills, white-tailed deer raise their heads in alarm and scatter through the sagebrush. There are few birds about; the paralysing beauty of the Montana wilderness creates an impression of unnatural quiet. The only sounds I recall are hooves in mud, snorting animals and the roar of a creek swollen with snow melt.
After a long time we reach a bluff, its steep edge overlooking a wide valley of patchwork fields punctuated by red barns and lines of Douglas firs. I ask Mike Leffingwell, the ranch owner, if the snowy peaks in the distance are those known as the Crazy Mountains. Leffingwell pulls up his horse beside my palomino and nods. The "Crazies" are something of a local legend, he'd told me earlier, spittoon wedged between his legs as he drove the pickup one-handed down an unsealed road.
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As white settlers moved westward across the US, the native inhabitants were forced from their homes and often killed. One woman, after watching her family die, climbed up among the mountains and went insane. On a violent day the wind carries the sound of her endless wailing across the valleys.
Told anywhere else, such a story would be shrugged off as a fantasy of the "wild west". Here, however, Leffingwell recites it without comment. Here, where mountain men once traced Indian trails to lead Conestoga wagons to safety, where wolves still prowl right past the front door, strange tales are part of a strange land. In some parts, the wild west was only a hundred years ago, if it ended at all.
To reach G Bar M Ranch, Leffingwell's working property just outside the town of Clyde Park near the Yellowstone River, I drive down a long road through a twisting valley, then into a field filled with yellow daisies. There are about a dozen buildings at the end, but the heart of the ranch is an impressive structure of stacked, burnished logs known affectionately as "the lodge". Maria, Leffingwell's wife, "skinned" many of the logs herself, a herculean effort that leaves her grimacing with phantom pains whenever it's recalled. Walking up its steps I notice antlers collected on the front porch (they were shed naturally and collected on the property) and, just inside, a bear skin draped behind a mounted bald eagle. Beneath the bird's glassy stare are saddles, faded photographs and books on western women and western poetry. Everything is assembled around an enormous fireplace.
This being a working ranch, I have come here, as many people do, to work. Though G Bar M Ranch accepts guests, it does so with an understanding that they will participate in the operating requirements of a Montana farm.
Greetings are therefore brief. There's a hasty tour of my room, which features an American flag hung above the quilted bed, before my short life as something approximating a makeshift cowboy begins.
It is immediately clear that the presiding authority here is Leffingwell, a ginger-moustached man who sits at the head of the table and commands his household with a disarming soft-spokenness. Whenever he asks somebody to milk a goat, for example, they do so not because he is the "boss", but because he is the sort of person you want to impress. After the meal, when local students exit the lodge to resume a class in shoeing horses, the remaining members (including me) turn to watch him insert tobacco behind his bottom lip and talk through a list of chores: a leak in the homestead, a tractor that must be lifted onto a truck, things to patch up, salt-lick for the cattle.
Sam, a cowhand for the summer, is sent to mend equipment. Ariane, from Paris, remains behind to help Maria. Only two hours after arriving, I find myself riding shotgun to a neighbouring property for a lesson in the art of inseminating cattle. Thankfully, it's a visual demonstration: my participation is limited to chasing heifers in a circle and holding open the holding shed door so Leffingwell can see what he's doing and the cows, each taking their turn, cannot.
Guest ranches are a common sight across Montana and the surrounding states. Indeed, their popularity seems to be increasing, with ranch rodeos back in vogue with colourful events such as branding and wild-cow milking. Since the railroad came through these parts in the late 19th century, homesteaders have opened up their homes to visitors and, in many cases, romanticising "dudes" - city dwellers with a penchant for fantasising the American west. While history books record, over time, a growing ambivalence on the part of westerners towards their eastern compatriots, the Montana homesteaders have nevertheless been more than happy to take their money.
Many of the dude ranches that exist today are holiday properties with carefully trimmed tennis courts alongside horses and fly-fishing expeditions. What Leffingwell offers is slightly different. There are no tennis courts, massages or internet reception.
G Bar M Ranch is also motivated by the faded idea that gave rise to guest ranches in the first place: a desire to celebrate and preserve a culture in peril. "We're trying to really teach some of the sustainable agriculture and livestock handling skills that are not lost, but becoming extinct," Leffingwell says.
To this end he intends to co-operate with a local movement of ranchers who have voluntarily added a clause to their deeds, prohibiting any major changes to property in the future. Its purpose is to safeguard the open spaces (often called the "big sky"), as well as the cultural and aesthetic heritage of Montana. Pull up a chair after dinner and ask him about his history and you'll realise just how much Leffingwell actually has worth protecting.
The night I do so, the clouds have broken into rain and the temperature has dropped enough to warrant a fire. Tobacco at the ready, Leffingwell begins an engrossing tale that starts with his great-grandfather George in 1898 buying a ticket on the railroad as far as he could go. Finding himself at the terminus point of Big Timber, Montana, George crawled off the train and got a job herding sheep. "After working for a while, he more or less saved up enough money to explore out. He came into this valley in about 1901, then went ahead and bought a homestead. And he set up camp and began building a ranch."
What follows is a labyrinthine saga involving railroad magnates, "saddle tramps", blind Braille teachers and Indian burial sites. It finishes, for now, with Mary Leffingwell, aged 15, the fifth generation on the land.
Knowing this story makes me notice small, time-worn details I'd previously overlooked. In the morning, I help distribute baled hay to the horses on the neighbouring property. When I return it's to a ringing bell, calling everyone to supper like the formal start of an old and cherished ritual. On my last day I'm asked to ring the bell myself. Sam, the cowhand, in a wide-eyed whisper that is only partly ironic, calls it "an honour". Sam also takes me fishing at the swollen creek, overturning rocks and logs in search of worms to use as bait. It's a gesture that casts us back to a world before digital distractions, further cementing my impression of having fallen out of time here.
Though everything from cattle dogs to the elk sausages on the table contribute to the ranch "experience", the daily focus is on the horses. Guests average four to seven hours a day in the saddle. They can, if they wish, tend to the upkeep of their own horse for the duration of a stay.
Leffingwell also offers dedicated classes in horsemanship. While I ride out several times over a few days, my first time, to check on cattle grazing alone in the mountains, is also the most memorable. After grooming and fitting a bridle, Leffingwell leads my horse out of the barn and into a muddy clearing, where more than two dozen other horses watch me mount and ride through the surging overspill from the nearby creek.
Later, recognising my struggle to fully command the horse, a fellow rider pulls up beside me and says in that vague way of the cowboy: "There is a void between a man and a horse. That void will be filled, either by the man or by the horse. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"
Following our sighting of the Crazy Mountains, we turn into a series of high hollows, Leffingwell casting ahead in search of the cattle. After what seems, with increasing suspense, destined to end in failure, we come across them sitting calmly in a field.
Then the cattle dogs shoot off, unhinged by excitement. Leffingwell scowls. Their sudden action has startled some pregnant horses resting in the herd. A foal flees over the crest of the hill, followed by three mares.
Though we attempt to follow them through several stony passes, there's little chance of catching them today. Resigned, the group heads towards home, pausing on the final hill to observe the ranch in its quiet corner of the world.
Right then, as someone turns around and catches sight of the renegade horses watching us from a distant ridge, I'm reminded of something else Leffingwell had told me the night before.
"To survive as a horse here you have to handle well enough that I can crawl onto you and go and do a day's work whenever I have to," he'd said. "But I feel about them as somebody feels about their favourite car. And get them out on those hills . . . it's pretty darn neat."
All creatures great and small
MONTANA is known as a place of horse whisperers, but there's a great deal more worth seeing in the land of the "big sky".
For budding paleontologists, a statewide Dinosaur Trail takes in the breadth of natural history hidden beneath the prairies and badlands. This is the home of T-Rex, after all. A highlight is Makoshika State Park and Dinosaur Museum in Glendive; it's also possible to join dinosaur digs in Custer County. See mtdinotrail.org, custer.visitmt.com.
Montana has an unusually large number of "blue ribbon" trout rivers, meaning recreational fisheries of extremely high quality (see visitmt.com for a full list). Fly fishing is an obsession here and outfitters are available across the state to get you equipped.
For a different approach to the water, consider a float trip down the Yellowstone River, which varies from calm to Class IV white water. A good place to start is Gardiner, just outside the north entrance to Yellowstone National Park (three of the park's five entrances are in Montana); see wildwestrafting.com.
The Great Montana Sheep Drive started in the town of Reed Point as a joke. Now it attracts thousands of people who come to see woolies driven down the main street for Labor Day. This year's drive happens this weekend.
Lance Richardson travelled courtesy of Montana Tourism and V Australia.
FAST FACTS
Getting there
V Australia has a fare to Montana for about $1720 low-season return from Sydney and Melbourne including tax. You fly to Los Angeles (about 14 hr non-stop), then Delta Airlines to Salt Lake City (2hr), then to Bozeman (80min). G Bar M Ranch is about an hour's drive from the airport, through the town of Clyde Park. Australians must apply for travel authorisation before departure at https://esta.cbp.dhs.gov.
Working there
Though G Bar M Ranch takes direct bookings (gbarm.com), a better option is to go through Montana Bunkhouses. This self-described "matchmaking service" draws from a pool of 20 working ranches, personalising each experience to an individual's abilities and interests. Prices range from $US200-$US350 ($189-$330) a day. Phone +1 406 222 6101, see montanaworkingranches.com.
More information
See visitmt.com.
Read more: http://www.smh.com.au/travel/beneath-the-big-sky-20110901-1jnjk.html#ixzz1WqBTwcFB

"Padlock Pat", (Also known as Pat Gleeson, from Australia) was a guest at the Padlock Ranch and he writes:

2011-08-12T12:17:00.000-07:00

8/12/11

I have recently returned from a life experience that will stay within me forever. I "rode for the brand" at The Padlock Ranch. If you really want the experience of being on a working ranch, you cannot go past the Padlock. Jesse Ballantyne is Head Wrangler and Cow Boss. He is one very experienced horseman and willingly shares his knowledge.

Together with Jesse’s daughter Hannah, Les Nunn (Guest Relations Manager) and Isaac and Steve Johnson, I was riding with the real deal and witnessed horsepeople working a new horse to get it seasoned, or sharpening up an older horse and giving it a job gathering cattle. The terrain and scenery whilst out riding and moving cow/calf pairs is just spectacular and at times unexpected. Some of those hills are steep, with deep ravines below.

The accommodation at the Wolf Mountain Lodge is 6 star while still giving you a sense that “this is home”. Coupled with the friendly welcome and wonderful home cooked meals by Kristen and Steve Johnson it really does feel so much like being home. Kristen serves up some of the best and most nutritious meals you could ask for, plus her jerky is the best and really hits the spot when out in the saddle for sometimes up to 7 hours.

You can expect to spend plenty of time in the saddle with a good working horse beneath you. Jesse and crew are always happy to provide pointers regarding horsemanship, working and reading cattle and, in down time, you can even sharpen your roping skills.

The Padlock Ranch is in the top 6 largest ranches in the U.S.A and continues a legacy of land stewardship, plus cowboy ethics and principles. If you have ever wondered what it is like to be out cowboying or even wondered if it still really exists, come to the Padlock and experience an amazing world. You will see its not just a job, but a way of being.

As an Aussie who has read about it all in books, and through Western Horseman, to be able to participate and experience a real working ranch was just heaven. I would ride for the Padlock brand any day and I feel privileged to have ridden with some amazing and experienced people. So don’t dream about it anymore, book yourself a week at the Padlock Ranch - you will never regret it.

Padlock Ranch Report

2011-05-18T14:43:00.000-07:00

April Showers Bring May Flowers: But What Does Rain in May Bring?

I have been in a bit of a quandary these past few weeks as I have reflected over the well known statement that “April showers bring May flowers”. I was well and good with that as it was raining in April and we do have some flowers now that it is May. The trouble I have now is what will all of this rain in May bring us in June, hopefully not more rain. Personally, I have visions of sunshine and green grass and lots of it.

I certainly do not mind the rain and please forgive me if it sounds as though I am complaining; I am not. It is well needed for the crops and rangeland grasses. I was just telling someone this morning that the rain is not the problem. The problem is all the things the rain impedes us from accomplishing. For instance, our farm crew has great aspirations of planting 1400 acres of corn this year. They have scheduled the month of May to do that. It is now the 17th and they have successfully planted 400 of the 1400 acres. The rain or the muddy fields have impeded any further planting. There are also things such as cleaning pens in the feedlot, welding feed bunks, and fixing up around our horse barn that are all on stand by on account of the rain. The comical thing about all of it is that just when it looks like it might be dry enough to get out and work on a few of these projects, it starts to rain again.

As long as I am on the topic of rain I should share a small experience we had last week with our friends the Gleeson’s from Australia.

We had the noblest intentions of beginning to gather one of our pastures and moving them to an adjacent pasture as a part of a scheduled pasture rotation. We refer to the pasture we were gathering cattle from as Dan’s pasture. They are moved south to the Pete Leon pasture. Dan’s pasture heading north from the Pete Leon pasture starts in the Slater Creek basin and then rises up through some rough steep breaks before reaching a large plateau on the north side. Under normal weather conditions this country can be difficult to traverse by horse.

The plan for the day was to trot out from the Wolf Mountain Camp and head for Slater Creek drainage where we suspected we could gather up some of the low lying fruit on the creek bottom, “bump” them across the creek and through the gate into the Pete Leon. The Wolf Mountain crew, including the Gleeson’s headed out from the camp in heavy rain and a fairly stiff Wyoming wind. I managed to trailer out from my house and met the crew on Slater Creek. We were surprised to see the normally dried up Slater Creek creek bed to be rushing a fast torrent of water. Jesse explored a few plausible crossings, none of which proved to be very safe. Especially when taking in to account the cattle we needed to cross.

Our official calving date begins about the first of May, so these 620 head of cows are heavily into the calving process. There is a mixture of heavy cows still in calf and cows with very young calves, even just a few hours old. Not knowing for sure what the outcome would be we decided there was one crossing we would give a shot at crossing with a small bunch of cows. There were two cows with calves and a couple of heavy cows. The cows crossed without any difficulty. The first calf made it a cross, but found himself swimming for a few strides in order to reach the other side. After seeing that first calf going for a swim I think both Jesse and I decided this was a bit too risky for these small calves. We left the other cow and calf and went searching for other options. There were no other safe crossings to be found and our plans were changed. The crew headed back to camp.

I often strive to explain how difficult it is to predict just how things are going to turn out in this business and this is just one example of how forces of nature have the ultimate say. I should have thought of that as one of the reasons for the Padlock Ranch being the ultimate working ranch vacation.

The Gleeson’s and the rest of the crew, after a romantic ride in the rain, returned to the Wolf Mountain Camp nearly soaked and half froze. As Jesse sings in one of his songs, “being a cowboy is something you earn”, well, they earned it that day. The big fire in the fireplace back at the lodge was a welcoming site indeed.

Thankfully the weather improved and Slater Creek went back to a more manageable flow and our cattle move was soon met with greater success. We’re still working on moving these pairs and with the looks of the forecast I am hopeful we will not once again find the creek banks overflowing.

These events make for great memories. It is very rewarding as I see our guests leave as close friends with memories to last a long time. I hope everyone reading this will soon have the chance to come and create their own memories as a member of the Padlock crew. There are still some openings for 2011.

Hope to see you here!

Les

Ranch Wife's Lament

2011-03-06T16:16:00.000-08:00

My friend Karen told me she saw five robins yesterday, and it scared me to death. First of all, those robins had better find a campfire to huddle around since it is going to get below zero again tonight, and secondly that means that spring is on its way. If spring is coming, it means coverall season is almost over, which means tragically that bulky sweater season is almost over. If you cannot follow this line of reasoning, then you aren't one of those people that gains weight every winter!
The best part about winter clothes is that they hide weight--at least psychologically. Coveralls are lifesavers. Everybody looks 20 pounds heavier in them, so no one has to feel self-conscious wearing them. You can wear sweat pants in them and be really comfortable. Then the day of reckoning comes. The robins come, officially announcing spring, and you find that you have to lie down to get your jeans zipped.
Several years ago, I received one of those human hot walkers for Christmas. I am sure you cannot guess what tactful person I am chained (otherwise referred to as loved, honored, and cherished) to till death do us part gave it to me! It provides a zero impact aerobic workout--especially when used as a giant clothes rack. Every once in awhile, following a brisk sit, I will take it for a spin, because it cost one whole cull cow. I am trying to sell it now, because at my new office, I have a whole room full of exercise equipment/clothes racks. Strangely, there does not seem to be much of a market for gently used exercise equipment even with coverall season drawing to an end.
Since it appears that I won't be cashing in on my Nordic Trac, I have come up with another entrepreneurial idea. ("Entrepreneur" is defined as a crazy ranch woman who constantly thinks of money-making schemes to diversify the ranch income that involve sleepless nights, grueling work, and investment capital--all on the part of the entrepreneur's relatives and close friends.) My idea is. . . designer coveralls for all seasons!
Our motto won't be something meaningless like Nike's "Just Do It!" It will be, "Why fight the battle of the bulge when you can disguise it?" Our refers to the people who sew in my family and circle of friends. I never mastered sewing--only seam ripping, but I have a lot of knowledge of fashion design. You see, thirty years ago this spring I graduated from Montana State University with a minor in Home Economics Education. The people in my immediate family insist that endorsement must have been a clerical error when I do something like burn the garlic bread.
Nevertheless, I did take Home Economics 226: Fashion Design where I learned the principles of design from Dr. IForgothername. (Give me a break--it has been thirty years!) Dr. IForgothername said repeatedly, "Nature clothed the elephant in gray," so we will need a lot of lightweight gray fabric.
I remember many other design principles that my mentor, Dr. IForgothername, insisted upon. We will incorporate all of these into our coverall line. They are V-necklines, high waistlines, princess seams, no rear pockets, vertical stripes, narrow non-contrasting belts, 3/4 length sleeves, shoulder pads (they WILL come back after my line debuts), and monochromatic dark and/or gray fabrics without texture.
We will also offer a full line of accessories like summer-weight barn coats, spike-heeled irrigating boots, and ultra heavy duty Spandex foundation garments. On the label, we'll explain how to launder the coveralls so they don't shrink, and we will print the following tips: #1. Try to stand sideways to everyone. #2. Always try to be seen with someone larger than yourself.
I sure hope these coveralls sell, because I am running out of room on my exercise equipment to hang all of them!

Note: This ranch wife’s lament was written by Susan Metcalf of the Lower Deer Creek Ranch and it was featured in the Western Ag Reporter on March 6, 2011 I did indeed tell her about the robins and that is what triggered her panic. And I’ve placed an order for some of those designer spike-heeled irrigating boots…I know they will come in handy making me appear taller in my designer coveralls.

So Long, Spud!

2010-01-24T11:01:00.000-08:00

Spud Cremer took his last ride with his beloved team and wagon on Sunday, January 24, 2010 when he was laid to rest at the Big Timber Mountainview Cemetery. Spud’s life cannot be summed up in a few lines, but the following is Susan Metcalf’s tribute to one of the last true cowboys.

So Long, Spud!

Born in the shadow of the Crazy Mountains in 1929, the sixth child of eight.

Patrick Thomas Cremer was better known as Spud, son of Cornelius and Kate.

He rode for the Spear-O, the Antler Ranch, and the Padlock,

For cowboying had been his calling since the day he could walk.

Spud liked good looking cowy horses and longhorn cattle.

He counted it a good day if he spent most of it in the saddle.

He was quick to befriend young and old, rich and poor—

Folks felt welcome to hang their hats beside Spud’s door.

He inspected cattle, spent 14 years sheriffing, and owned the Cort Bar.

He never lacked for life experiences in his travels near and far.

The twinkle in his eye betrayed the fact that a saint he ain’t,

But the work had to be done before the town he would paint.

Spud loved to share a Whiskey Sage and spin a tale or two;

Though they sounded stretched a might, they were mostly true.

He never bragged on himself, because he didn’t have to.

He was a top hand as true as the fancy loops that he threw.

At 80 years of age, his backhand loop was envied in the branding pen.

In the remuda, we would watch Spud throw the hoolihan once again!

Spud was a living legend who never backed down from man nor beast.

He was pound for pound fearless—bulletproof and ten feet tall at least.

Spud has loped the long circle, and back to the roundup wagon he went.

We are thankful for the memories and the good times with him we spent.

He rides where the grass is belly deep and there’s no such thing as dust or mud.

One day the Chute Boss will call our name, and we will ride again with Spud!

* * * * * * * * * * * *

This tribute was written by Susan Metcalf of the Lower Deer Creek Ranch and published in her column “Cooking for the West” which appears weekly in the Western Ag Reporter (formerly Agri-news) reporting agriculture news in Montana, Wyoming, the western Dakotas, and Nebraska. Susan wrote:

The era of the true punchers is passing, and we lost another one January 12, 2010, when Spud (Patrick Thomas) Cremer left us. I had heard of the legendary Spud Cremer long before I met him in June of 1985 when he and my father were among the featured teamsters in a documentary called "The Last Ride" filmed on the Vassau Ranch out of Forsyth. I was pregnant with Brooke at the time, and although as one of the wagon bosses, Spud had a million details to oversee, he kept a vigilant check on my welfare throughout the wagon trip. I was impressed by his genuine concern for all of us as well as his adept skills with teams and saddle horses and his rope.

Shortly after that, Spud moved home to Big Timber from Garfield County where he had spent 14 years as the sheriff. Though he was not a big man, he was afraid of no rank horse nor ornery bovine critter. He threw fancy loops--not to showcase his skills but to get the job done.

As I got to know Spud, I understood why he had become a well respected cowboy icon. Spud was always there to help anyone who asked, and he was a top hand.

Riding for the Brand

2009-07-04T11:37:00.000-07:00

Not surprisingly, many narratives, books, poems, and ballads have been written about brands. One such poem called "Ride for the Brand" written by Paul Harwitz is included here for your enjoyment.

Ride for the Brand

The dismounted young cowboy asked the old hand,
"What does it mean when they say 'Ride for the brand'?"
The grizzled old-timer's age seemed to drop years,
And he sat straight up in the saddle as he surveyed the steers.

"It means a lot of different things, son.
It has a lot to do with what's lost and what's won.
I ain't talking about gambling, but earning a living,

Hard work, trust, respect, taking, and giving.

"It means you don't never foul up the land,
And you don't take unfair advantage or rob.
You work hard, even when the work's rough as a cob.
That's part of what it means to ride for the brand.

"It means you help your neighbors and your friends,
And you help even strangers just passing through.
It means you hire on a hungry saddle-tramp
Who needs a place to winter past the cold and damp.

"It means you don't let the poor folks go hungry
Just 'cause they're down and short on grub and luck.
And it means that you don't work just for a buck,
But 'cause you need work like water's needed by a tree.

"It means you can be trusted, and that you trust each pard,
To do the chores that are needed, no matter how hard,
'Cause you're all riding for the same outfit,
And you're all striving together to benefit it.

"It means you keep searching for that one last stray,
Even though it's the end of the day,
Even though you'd rather stop and go to town.
It means you don't lay your responsibility down."

"It means you give an honest day's work for an honest day's wage,
Whether you're in the corral or out riding the range.
Every job's important, and there ain't none that ain't.
It's not the cowboy way to quit though it'd be easier to say 'I cain't.'

"It means you'll not complain when you help dig a well,
Nor even have to be asked to spell a tired cowpoke who's stove-up.
It means you'll work with others as well as you'll work alone,
And that even when you're tired to the bone, you'll cowboy-up.

"That's what it means, that, and a whole lot more.
It means that you've got pride in yourself, your job, and the land.
So saddle-up. Toughen-up. Cowboy-up. Be a man.
Ride for the brand."

Note: The following is an excerpt from Rangelands Magazine’s article titled “Branded Customer Service.” written by Les, Nunn, Assistant Operations Manager of the Padlock Ranch.

Ranch brands hold a rich and vibrant place in American history, as well as a unique position in today's ranching industry. Commencing in the late 18^th century, cattle brands were in many ways some of the first trademarks used in commerce. These brands were a mark of ownership, termed the ironclad signature, distinguishing one rancher's livestock from another.

It was the livestock industry that implemented the use of brands. Many brands were simple; others were more descriptive and complex. Today brands are used by nearly every industry and play the same key roll as ever; that is to distinguish one company's product from another and to tell a story about the product.

The Padlock brand was purchased by Homer Scott shortly after he started putting the ranch together during the 1940's. This brand is the ranch's trademark and represents pride, duty, and stewardship while inspiring loyalty, dedication, and cowboy camaraderie.

Brands take on an entire legacy and contain the underlying story about the ranch they represent. As a result, the saying "riding for the brand" has a deep meaning to cattlemen and cowboys. Riding for the brand signifies a way of life and a depth of character to which people in the ranching business aspire.

Over the years, The Padlock brand has taken on a legacy of its own; one in which many have been and are still proud to ride for….. Reminiscing over the days gone by and looking forward to carrying the Padlock legacy forward and passing it on to future generations.

2009-05-16T10:10:00.000-07:00

“Cooking in the West”
Guest blog written by Susan Metcalf of the Lower Deer Creek Ranch, Big Timber, MT.
Dated: Saturday, May 16, 2009, 10:10 AM,

As I write this, my fingers are shaking so badly I can barely type. I am more terrified than I have ever been in a car wreck or a horse wreck. Why? Because next Saturday, Anthony Bourdain is coming to our ranch!
OK--I admit I didn't know who Anthony Bourdain was until this morning or I never would have agreed to this lunacy. Just 24 short hours ago, we were scheduled to brand next Saturday. Into this mundane plan, entered our ranch vacation booking agent, Karen Searle of Montana Bunkhouses. Doing business with Karen is like living in a spontaneous tornado. She had booked Christine, a 38 year old German lady, and Brandon, an 18 year old boy from Tennessee, to come for branding. That arrangement seemed challenging enough, but then an opportunity for stardom knocked, and Karen answered.
Now, branding has been postponed a few days, because our ranch vacations are going to be filmed for airing on the Travel Channel's show "No Reservations" hosted by Anthony Bourdain. When I agreed to it, it sounded kind of harmless and fun!
You see, I never actually get to hold the remote, so I don't get to watch cooking shows unless they happen to be on ESPN or RFDTV. Therefore, my nervous breakdown was triggered when I Googled "Anthony Bourdain".
He is a celebrity chef who was recently featured in Time magazine, he has his own cooking show, he has traveled the world, and he of course writes books. (Which I will have to read this week in my spare time!) He seems to delight in mocking Rachel Ray. My heart began to pound and I couldn't feel my extremities as I read on. He has eaten seals in the Arctic and cobras in Viet Nam. The worst things he has eaten were fermented shark in Iceland and warthog rectum in Namibia. I wouldn't even be able to find Namibia on the map!
Apparently this is what happened in Namibia according to Google. "Anthony Bourdain suffered quietly as he dined on wart hog--encrusted with sand, fur and fecal bacteria--in the African country of Namibia. Bourdain, host of the Travel Channel’s 'No Reservations,' finished the meal knowing he would become terribly ill. But who was he to complain as a VIP guest of the same arid landscape where Angelina Jolie delivered Brad Pitt’s baby? Spitting out nasty bits of wart hog would be rude to the locals he was dining with. 'The chief is there in front of his whole tribe offering you his very best,' Bourdain said. 'Show respect. I’m lucky to be there. I’m lucky to see that. I’m lucky to have that experience. Chewing some antibiotics is a small price to pay'."
That actually made me feel a little better. I am sure some Rocky Mountain oysters, beef rib eyes, morel mushrooms, spuds, and raspberry pie will slide down easier than wart hog in fecal sauce. However, the antibiotics might still be a good idea just in case!
Not only do we have to feed Anthony breakfast and lunch--shall I call him Tony?--so many questions--but we have to take him riding through the cattle and let him try his hand at roping all between 8:00 A.M. and 4:30 P.M. according to his tight schedule.
I really don't know if my heart is strong enough to survive the anticipation of his visit. Maybe I should just have the food catered. Maybe we should buy a different house or at least new silverware. How can I lose 40 pounds or who should I get to play my part? All of these thoughts are reeling in my mind. I think I am having a stage 5 anxiety attack if there is such a thing!
If we all survive next Saturday, you will hear all about it in this column! If I don't survive, I am sure Karen will find someone to play my part and maybe even write this column! Wish us luck, because we are going to need it!

[Note: Susan’s article will be featured this week in her regular column for the Western Ag Reporter entitled “Cooking in the West.” Be watching for the next installment!]

Yellowstone Geotourism MapGuide 2009

2009-04-01T15:54:00.000-07:00

Hello and YeeHaw!

I've just returned from The Governor's Tourism Conference which focused on geotourism. The highlight was the unveiling of the new map "Greater Yellowstone Geotourism MapGuide." It was really nice to have the representative from National Geographic demonstrating features of the map on the overhead screen ..... especially nice for me because up popped Recommended Destinations and Montana Bunkhouses Working Ranch Vacations was on the list. I just sat there mesmerized and the people at my table were elbowing me saying "hey, look!"

National Geographic defines geotourism as "tourism that sustains or enhances the geographical character of a place--its environment, culture aesthetics, heritage and the well-being of its residents." The MapGuide helps direct visitors to the authentic experiences they are looking for.

National Geographic partnered with Travel Montana (and others) ..... The outcome is this map and an amazing interactive online site. Check it out: go to http://www.yellowstonegeotourism.org/index.php type in ranch vacations and see what comes up!!!! You need to click a couple places to get it to open up as text but that won't slow you down! And you can order a copy of the map or download a copy right from their home page.

Being recognized by National Geographic is validation that we are on the right track with our agri-tourism cooperative. We have now grown to over twenty ranches. Encouragement like this inspires us to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Glad you are on the journey with us.
You are darn good company!
Happy Trails,
Karen

p.s. The photo selected to represent working ranch vacations (both on paper and online) was taken by a photojournalist named Kwok from Hong Kong while he was a guest of Lower Deer Creek Ranch covering a story on Montana Bunkhouses Working Ranch Vacations. You may have already seen the article on our www.montanaworkingranches.com website "In the News".

Sheepdogs- March Ranch Report

2009-03-06T13:40:00.000-08:00

Sheepdogs
March Ranch Report

With the first cycle of calving behind us we are down to tagging only a couple of new calves a day. Still on the watch for breech or backward calves or heifers who need an assist, we continue to make the rounds throughout the day and night. But mild temperatures have kept pneumonia and scours to a minimum and it is fun to watch the calves run tails-up through the bunch, playing in the trail of hay that unrolls behind the pickup.

Lambing will start early next month. We’ve been graining the ewes so they have a good supply of milk for their newborns. Grandpa fills two grain sacks with just the right amount of barley-corn mixture. He knows without measuring what it will take to give each ewe one-half pound a day. I drive and he pours the grain from the back of the pickup into the track the wheel makes in the skiff of new snow.

We always watch for the sheepdogs and count them to see if all four are still there. On occasion they will pair off and seemingly say, “you keep watch, we are going for a stroll” and then it will be the next day before our count totals four. We are relieved when we can spot each of them because it is one more day we can be thankful that the wolves have not made it to our ranch. With a lump in our throat we realize the sheepdogs will sacrifice their lives when that first wolf attacks our sheep and we know it is just a matter of time before it happens.

On this day we are surprised to find six Great White Pyrenees dogs guarding the sheep. Six tail wagging swaggering companions making their way to our truck for pats and words of praise. We are so enamored with them for their devotion to the sheep, out here in the wild with no comforts as they protect the flock day in and day out. I am puzzled by the two extra dogs but Grandpa says the neighbors to the east are shearing today and maybe their dogs did not like the commotion or maybe the dogs from the ranch to the west just came for a visit. He hopes that we always have neighbors who are tolerant of an occasional visit by these dogs because they don’t necessarily stay in the fence lines.

Cheyenne is the first to arrive, excited for pats she leans her body on mine, caressing me as she bends around my leg. Next comes Zac, the only male; he is one-fifth larger than the others. We purchased some sheep from friends who live near Yellowstone Park a little over an hour away from our ranch. They live in wolf country and after suffering numerous losses, sold their sheep … Cheyenne and Zac were part of the deal. When Zac first came to the ranch he could only tolerate being touched from across the fence but now he trusts us and has been a friend since those first pets. More gentle and more friendly than ever before, he has put on weight and his coat is thick and shiny. He looks regal as he lifts a massive paw to get my attention.

Yukon enjoys life more now since she is feeling better. Two winters ago she was in poor condition but the vet treated her for parasites and now she comes playfully prancing and jumping up and down just out of reach of Grandpa. She has not forgiven him for rides she made confined in the cab of his pickup on her way to and from the vet. Or for the times he enticed her with hot dogs and retrieved her from his cousin’s ranch when she strayed across the Yellowstone River. However she eventually accepts a pat and then scampers away.

Last to come swishing her tail seeking attention is Zsa-Zsa the matriarch. The ranch has been her home since she was one year old and that was over ten years ago. Grandpa was having a lot of coyote problems in those days and he was willing to try guard dogs. David Myrstol raised some Pyrenees Dogs on his sheep ranch just down the river. He said Zsa-Zsa was the pick of the litter.

Today Grandpa’s affection for Zsa-Zsa is evident as he takes her head in his calloused hands. He recalls how before the guard dogs, he used to have a 30% predator loss by the end of the season even when he was putting his sheep in during most nights. The government trapper would come and kill three or four coyotes and he would think it would be ok to leave the sheep out and then coyotes would again kill three lambs. Always three lambs, never just one.

Back in the ‘80s Grandpa completed the week of school necessary for him to handle the toxic collars filled with 1080 poison. In those days he would carefully brand 20 or so sacrificial lambs, fit them with 1080 collars, and leave them out at night. Each morning he would count the lambs and document, document, document the kills and send in reports. There was comfort in the loss because with each death of a collared lamb, you knew you were getting a killer coyote. Just having the government trapper kill coyotes often made matters worse because he did not know which the killer coyotes were. You are always going to have a certain number of coyotes around and eliminating the non-killers just made more room for the killers to multiply. However all of this did not eliminate the killing, it just kept it manageable.

The sheep were grazing up on the bench when Grandpa turned the first young guard dog loose in the fall of ‘93. The sheep took one look at the big dog and they never stopped running. They ran until they could not run anymore. That first day was a mess; Rick did not know if it was going to work. Zsa-Zsa was not socialized to humans so he could not simply catch her to stop the fracas. The dog stayed right with the sheep…kept running with them where ever they went and it took the sheep almost a week before they could relax a little. Eventually they accepted her and now follow her lead into the sheep shed or to new pasture. She is always on a lookout nearby when the sheep bed down atop a knoll overlooking their pasture. Always on guard.

Grandpa is filled with emotion as he strokes Zsa-Zsa. He talks in soft tones telling her that she is a good dog and he is proud of her. He reminds me that he has not had a sheep killed by predators since she came to live and work at the ranch over ten year ago.

And then he is quiet for a time looking off into the hills before he clears his throat and says with a husky voice, “the forecast is for snow showers later in the week with some wind in the next day or so but they’re not really expecting cold temperatures.” I nod.
He gives a final pat. We both know he is not thinking about the weather. He is thinking about Zsa-Zsa and her years of faithfulness. He is thinking is about the love and respect we have for the dogs that guard our sheep.

Skunk Spray Cure

2008-08-05T17:39:00.000-07:00

Skunk Spray Cure

One quart Hydrogen Peroxide
¼ cup Baking Soda
1 tsp. Liquid Soap

Followed by tap water rinse.

According to the October 18, 1993 edition of Chemical & Engineering News (page 90,) alkaline hydrogen peroxide is the best cure for skunk spray.

Note: It does not take a wild imagination to sort out which dog repeatedly puts this formula to the test!

Ranch Report for the Students

2008-07-11T17:44:00.000-07:00

Ranch Report for the Students

Hello to the students at the Col. Johnston Elementary School on Ft. Huachuca Army Base in Arizona. As you may know, your teacher is planning a visit to our ranch during spring break. I thought you might enjoy getting acquainted with our outfit and learning a little about ranching in the Rocky Mountains.

Much of what ranchers do in the summer is get ready for Montana winters--we grow the feed and bale the hay that it takes to feed our animals in the cold weather months of winter and spring.

In many ways the ranch seasons are the same as your school seasons as we begin a new year each fall. Lambs and calves are weaned and sent to market or put on special feed where they will grow to adults and find their way to back to the herd as a mother. A veterinarian helps us to screen our cows in the fall and we keep the pregnant cows and sell the older cows that can no longer have babies. We say they go “to the Golden Arches” because it is likely that they will be ground into hamburger and served on a bun at McDonalds! A cow will be pregnant for nine months, just like a human. This is the gestation period or the time it takes for a baby to be born. That period is only 145 days (5 months) for sheep. Our cows will begin calving right around Valentines Day in February and our sheep will begin lambing toward the end of March, just about the time your teacher comes for a visit.

In addition to the 260 cows and 200 sheep and dozen horses which live at our ranch, we have as many as 200 resident deer grazing in our hay fields. It is not uncommon to spot deer, antelope, jack rabbits or raccoons in our pastures. We watch for bald eagles and the various hawks and mountain birds that greet us each day. In the evenings we can hear the coyotes yipping and the great White Pyrenees dogs barking their reply. We have two older dogs named Zsa Zsa and Yukon and they have been guarding the sheep for 10 years now. Before that time as many as one-fourth of the lambs would be killed by coyotes. The dogs live with the sheep and protect them from the coyotes. Because the guard dogs are getting older, we purchased two Pyrenees puppies this summer named Eva and Elvis. They are bonded to the sheep and the older dogs are teaching them the routine. They would give their life to protect the sheep. These dogs are much respected and loved for their faithfulness to the sheep.

We also have cow dogs at the ranch. Our old timer “top dawg” is named Bernie and he spends more and more time on the porch while our young Border Collie named Rascal likes to work. Some times he likes to work too much and we have to make him stay behind. We joke that some people are like the horse whisperer but Grandpa is the “dog bellower” because he has to holler at Rascal to make him mind. Rascal makes us laugh because he is always playful and he gets into mischief. Only on days when he has gotten too close to a skunk do we avoid him until he smells better. Life is never boring when Rascal is around.

We feel very fortunate to live on a ranch and we enjoy sharing our way of life with others. I would encourage you to ask any questions you may have about ranching. If you let me know what you are particularly interested in, I’ll email back and tell you more about life on a Montana family-owned ranch.

As Grandpa says, we do not inherit the land from our parents; we borrow it from our children. And with that comes a responsibility to be good stewards of the land so that people of your generation have a chance to explore wide open spaces and learn about ranching traditions.

Happy Trails,
Karen

Spring Branding

2008-05-26T17:33:00.000-07:00

Spring Branding

Springtime for some people is when they see their first robin, sandhill crane, mountain bluebird or meadowlark. While bird watching is something we do as part of being mindful of nature, it is branding that marks the event for our family. Ranchers celebrate spring by gathering family and friends around this time of year for the annual branding. While everyone is busy trying to make a living, out of town or adjusting schedules for kid’s soccer and spouse’s work shifts, they make it a priority to be at the ranch to help us.

Some things are the same and some things are different. We use the calf table now because it is quicker and requires a smaller crew. But most ranchers wouldn't think of giving up roping and dragging calves to the fire. We don’t Ralgro anymore. That is, we don’t implant hormones to enhance growth. Our natural calves are destined to be part of a Montana Branded Beef product. It is part of the value-added niche that we are trying to carve out for our reputation Angus beef.

We are branding a week later this year and the calves are big. JV and Joe and grandson Jess push the calves up the alley and into the chute. Little Jess is never very far away if a cow is ‘spose to go from one place to another. Jay and Bill are on the business end of the deal as they run the calf table levers and tip the calves on their sides and then Jay brands them. Kristi and Shannon vaccinate the calves against diseases that calves and cows get while Jami ear notches a left under bite as another identifier. We try to get the branding all done in one day so we are dog tired at the end of the day. But not so busy that we can’t have a beer to settle the dust and share laughs over practical jokes.

Grandpa is everywhere and nowhere. Keeping beer and pop and cookies available for breaks and helping at each station as needed. But he often thought his most important job was 4-wheeling with the grandkids. My job was lambing. We’re on the tail end of that now--down to the wild ones. My theory is that these late lambers are so wild that even the bucks couldn’t catch them early on. At any rate, it is a challenge to get the ewes to follow into the jugs. Only three bum lambs in the sheep shed and the grandkids love to bottle feeding them. We've managed to sneak the other bum lambs into town to give away to friends.

A creek winds its way through the ranch and there is something about grandkids and water that is a given. By the end of the day the kids were varying degrees of wet. Jordon was head to toe wet after her fall. Justin and Jake’s pant legs were dragging in the mud. Only 5 year old Jess was dry. He was smart…he went to the porch and put on grandpa’s boots which reach clear to his hips! Jess has a good outlook on life. He loves ranch life—whether chasing cows, riding sheep or wading in the creek in grandpa’s boots. It’s all an adventure to him.

Soon enough we gear up to face the farming and irrigating and haying and all the rest of the summer frenzy. But branding day is a springtime celebration at the ranch and a rite of passage for those calves that now carry the Lazy Y Hanging 5 on their left hip.

Amazing Sheep Dogs

2008-03-15T17:12:00.000-07:00

Amazing Sheep Dogs

The dogs never cease to amaze me. The Great White Pyrenees that guard the sheep have been a source of love for us and they enable us to stay in the sheep business. On this morning, we fed the calf his bottle (he is a twin and he needs a bottle to keep him going) and then we went out to feed the sheep their grain. Lambing will start any day now and the half pound of grain each ewe eats each day will boost her milk production.

But neither dogs nor sheep were in sight this morning. They’ve been in the field above the calving shed but it turned out they crawled under the metal gate to join the cows for hay. The hired man helped us as we hazed the sheep back to their pasture. One calf wanted to come with us…he just followed along in the midst of the sheep…maybe for the moment he thought he was a sheep as he trotted through the gate and into the sheep pasture.

Grandpa headed up to feed the sheep their grain so they’d stay where they belonged and I stayed back to watch the gate. The young dogs, Wayne, (named after the cousin who raised the dog) and Shy Elvis, (who is only shy until he trusts you,) followed the sheep. You could see their minds a-workin’…”not gonna be any calves in my sheep!” They loped along behind the calf, hazing him. Not barking, not causing a ruckus…just hazing the calf. Never breaking stride. Before long, that calf decided he did not want to be a sheep after all and he circled back toward the cows with the dogs loping along behind him.

By the time Grandpa finished feeding the sheep, the work was all done. The calf was back with his momma and the dogs were lying in the gate looking darn pleased with themselves. This mix up had all the ear markings of a big mess. And while the Pyrenees are not herding dogs per se, they knew where that calf belonged. They never took a step further once that calf went through the gate. When they were done, they were perfectly satisfied. Just amazing!

Now you tell me about those dogs! All Grandpa had to do was close the gate. The more we know about the dogs the more perplexed we are. They are uncanny. They have been a total life experience all to themselves and we count it a privilege to be a witness to it all.

Not a drop of wind, we left our coats in the back of the pickup. Sitting up on the hill we revel in how gorgeous the ranch looks today. Mattie, the new Border Collie, is asleep next to us. She doesn’t even wiggle when we pet her. We are caught up in the moment. All the partial nights of sleep are worth it as we look over the calves, black sleek beauties at play. The first cycle of calving is behind us and lambing is soon to start.

Things are maybe a bit unusual, but all is well.
Ranching our life away is pretty darn rewarding.

Big Timber on a Saturday Night

2008-02-15T17:07:00.000-08:00

Big Timber on a Saturday Night
For as long as anyone can remember, Bob DeCock’s focus has been automobiles—cars and trucks—and he also gathered up old machinery by the acre. He was collecting classic old Ford pickups and restoring them long before it was popular. He never married—too busy mechanic-ing.

Mary Lody was a rancher’s wife. When she was widowed, she continued to ranch but needed help when aging equipment broke down. She called on Bob just like everyone else in the neighborhood does when they need an obsolete replacement part or repairs on an aging outfit.

When the spark lit…it went just like wildfire in a stubble field and they were married in short order. That was last year when Bob was in his fifties. Now he acts like a young kid. Side by side, he and Mary greet each day. And because Bob and Mary’s wedding dance had been so much fun, they decided to invite the Big Timber community to an anniversary dance. It was held last night in the basement of the Legion.

The gathering was reminiscent of old school house dances that I can remember as a kid…people in the community getting together and making their own entertainment. Potluck food along one wall, coats piled in the back and the dance floor sprinkled with a little sawdust. It is customary to “pass the hat” to help pay for the expense of a band and a sound system. Those with musical talent take a turn at the mike when the band takes a break.

Rick and I gravitated to the Sanders and Richerts table. Lynn was strumming gingerly on his guitar after rotator cuff surgery earlier this month. The deep richness of Lynn’s voice always surprises me coming from this all-business rancher. It is the feeling he puts to it, the warmth and sincerity that belies his gruff exterior.

Steve introduced a friend of his daughter as “the most beautiful girl in the high school...and the strongest too.” She was a pretty girl; proudly wearing a jacket embroidered with “FFA Agronomy Champion,” she seemed to take the joking in stride. There was a buzz as neighbors and families were enjoying each other’s company--high school kids visiting with their parents and grand daughters dancing with granddads.

Schotts drove all the way over from Belgrade for the occasion. Carol is a Raisland and her father Benny is playing the accordion. Rick asks about her girls, he is partial to Ellen who is now working at the bank. I praise their youngest daughter, Susan, thinking how carefully she had taken Xrays of my hand after the colt kicked me last fall. Brother Elmer has a serious look on his face as he dances with his wife. It makes me smile to see the family resemblance to Earl. Hard working German Earl has more going on than the average person realizes. Under his jovial fun-loving exterior is a good human being with great affection for kids even though he has never parented. Never married. He has a deep love for his nieces and never missed the girls’ basketball game at home or away.

Over the years, we’ve had the good fortune to have shared ranching chores back and forth with Earl Schott. Earl is the first neighbor to our loading chute when we’re shipping calves to market and in turn Rick pulls a trailer load of Earl’s cows when they head to summer pasture. He lends a hand irrigating and stacking hay in exchange for feed. And last year when Rick broke his leg, Earl and his brother Dale were right there to help out.

I continue to reflect on the goodness of this family and I think of Earl’s sister, Jenette. She has worked at the nursing home in Big Timber for years. It warms me to see how tenderly she gave my mother her bath. The residents thrive under her care because they get more than just their basic needs met. Their spirits are nourished by her love.

Now Earl’s family members are part of the swirl of people who make their way across the dance floor. After a bit of hesitation, Rick asks me to dance. Instead of one-two, one-two, he steps one-and-a-half with his left foot and a half-hop with his right. It is coming on six months now since he broke his leg, and it still takes some limbering up to get it working. Other younger more energetic dancers whirl past us, their cowboy boots cla-lomping on the floor as they make wide swings with their partners. Mary’s father is dancing with her mother. Still recovering from a stroke, he shuffles his feet.

Mary Lody’s mother is a spry lady in her 70’s. She steers her husband to the platform and encourages him to play his guitar which he does smiling as a man reborn after a stroke. She listens intently until she hears the key and then she begins to play the piano. Sometimes sitting, sometimes standing, she gives it all she’s got playing the tune and adding notes all along the way. Bouncing up and down until it seems the piano is jumping with her; she brought the house down playing her favorite old western tunes.

I marvel at what a wonderful way for Mary to have grown up watching the love between her parents. The mother artistic in music. The daughter artistic on canvas. And then the band plays “Have I told you lately that I love you?” Mary and Bob never take their eyes off each other as they dance.

Older generations bent and bow-legged, younger generations limber and energetic. All of them part of the fabric of this small ranching community. Big Timber, Montana, is a special place. It is all about families and it is why we do what we do.

Business of the Year

2007-11-28T17:43:00.000-08:00

Business of the Year

We came in from fencing early on this Saturday in November so we could get ready for the annual banquet jointly sponsored by the Crazy Mountain Stockgrower’s Association and the Sweet Grass County Wool Marketing Association. Montana Bunkhouse’s Working Ranch families are well represented in the local, state and national leadership of these groups that are the movers-and-shakers in the beef and sheep industries.

Imagine a gathering in your community where 10 or 15% of the population comes together with a common goal and enjoys a meal and celebrates the year. That’s what happens in Big Timber around Thanksgiving of each year. Cattle men donate beef and sheep men donate lamb. We all eat together and visit and then listen to the keynote speaker.

At the close of the meeting we honor The Business of the Year. This year it was Stephens Auto and the Stephens Family. As everyone knows, these folks are the rancher’s best friend when ever there is equipment in need of repair…they’ll get the part or they’ll build one for you. They give exceptional service…and that is the rule.

What brought the entire audience to its feet was the recognition of Mark Stephens: his dedication and hard work as Fire Chief for the County. This year’s fire season was so bad that Mark was sometimes fighting between 14 and 22 fires in one day going one direction and then another. Mark serves in a volunteer position in Sweet Grass County. And we salute the Stephens family for their support and for making it happen so that Mark could fight fires for all of us.

We’re all pretty proud of the Stephens outfit. Out here to be called “the ole man” is to be distinguished as an old timer. And Old Man Stephens started the business. His business is where the old Farmall tractor came from that we use to pound posts with. His wife is still alive and a good friend of Betty (Rick’s mom). Mark is 3rd generation Stephens in this business. Mark’s father Marv and his Uncle Jim took over the business from their father. And their young grandsons with mechanical aptitude are coming up through the ranks to hopefully carry on the tradition.

Quite a story. Another story about the strong community spirit we’ve come to expect from Big Timber and Sweet Grass County. It is “the community thing” that makes this place larger than life.

Lambing

2007-04-11T17:31:00.000-07:00

Lambing

Lambing is not what you would call back breaking work but it is pretty constant and I’m stiff and sore from all the bending, lifting, and dragging…Checking for newborns, picking the drop and jugging them with their mothers. Packing water, grain and hay to the ewes for the day they are inside bonding with their lambs learning to recognize their sounds and smells. All part of the lambing tradition.

The ewes find a secluded spot and for the most part they birth two lambs and within 10 minutes they have their lambs up on wobbly legs and sucking. Occasionally there are triplets and the mother can’t raise three so one becomes a bum lamb or is used as a graft for a ewe that may have lost her lamb. And then there are those darn white face lambs that need snacks to keep up with stronger black faced siblings. I’ve bottle fed a few of them so many times that they blat when they see me walk in the pen and their little tails start wiggling in anticipation of warm milk.

Branding is my favorite time of the day. It is more than the pride of ownership …it is the significance of the act of branding. It is a seal of approval when we paint-brand the ewe and her lambs. It is a sign that they are OK. We would not brand them and turn them out if there was a question about whether they could survive on their own. The numbers are sequential in the order they are born and each lamb wears the number of its mother. Singles are branded on the right and twins on the left. If you find a lost lamb, you know at a glance how old he is and whether he is a twin or single.

We take a well-deserved break leaning up against the corral fence and Grandpa explains how it was when his father lambed out 2000 sheep as compared to the 200 we have today. They would start the morning by going over to the sheep wagon for a cup of coffee out of a tin cup. Norwegians drink coffee year round…no ice tea or orange juice for sheepherders…that stuff “rusts your pipes!” It was coffee boiled on the stove with a dash of cold spring water to settle the grounds. Water right from the spring next to the sheep shed. It never bothered any one that the spring was not fenced off in those days…that’s how you got a cast iron stomach… by drinking that kind of water.

But there is little time for reflection: We are lambing like crazy and as our Norwegian cousin would say, “we are two-turds done!” Days are long and nights are short and we are not as young as we once were. However should I have trouble falling asleep tonight …the tried and true method of “counting sheep” will not work for me… the last thing I want to do when I’m lambing is count sheep at bedtime!

Springtime is a pretty magical time of year. It is the perfect combination of nature and nurture. It is a rewarding time--something vital fills each hour. Now with temps in the 50’s, it has been a glorious time for lambing and we take heart in what we call perfect lambing weather.

Calving Has Begun

2007-03-01T17:11:00.000-08:00

Calving Has Begun

Calving has begun and Mother Nature is on our side. It is a glorious sight to see healthy young uns bucking and playing. Midst unusually balmy early spring weather, the cows are busy finding secluded places for birthing. My bulky Carhartt coat has been replaced by a lined shirt jacket and gloves are left on the floorboards.

At early morning light we bounce the pickup along a side hill to see who can spot the first one. It is a race. Born and raised on this ranch, Rick knows every nook and cranny of the creek bottom and the sloping hillside pasture. Just like his daddy did before him, he has the ranch topography memorized and that gives him undue advantage. However, today I win, pointing first to the sleek black profile nestled at the foot of the willow brush. He complains, “I have to look where I’m driving, you get to do nothing but look for calves.” The truth is, Rick left his glasses home and that gave me the edge.

The bulls were turned out the 26th of May and 280 days have gone by signaling the beginning of calving. In weather like this, we do not lock them up in the lot by the calving sheds; they are able to be out on the clean calving pasture reserved for this purpose. Six cows this morning standing guard, they have newborns in out of the way places. Some of these old cows can be pretty protective. Tagging is actually not a safe thing for one person to do. While Rick knows the cows and can usually stay this side of trouble, he welcomes my help. So far according to the already dog-eared log, nineteen have calved. I pen the mother cow’s number on to an ear tag: yellow to the right ear for heifers and orange for bulls. While he tags the calf I keep the cow at bay, swinging a stick to discourage the mommas who want to wear Rick as a head ornament.

The hundred first time calvers are up by the house where we can keep an eye on them. No action in that bunch today. Rick teases, “Maybe these heifers don’t think they are going to calve this year…maybe they are just putting on a show.” By this time next week we should have a better idea how all that is going to shake out. Did we buy the right bulls, what we call heifer bulls, to produce smaller shoulders on their calves? With only 4 unassisted births logged in the heifer book, we cannot say. But they sure look good. Curious, they stand around us in a semi-circle, coming as close to the yard as Rascal-dog will tolerate.

The long term weather forecast on Yahoo promises this unseasonably warm weather to continue for at least another week. We’re hoping that the weatherman guessed right. It is a joy not to struggle against the below zero weather that we battled the last two years. One night last year the thermometer settled in at twenty below and with the wind howling the chill factor hit 48 below. Calves are frozen stiff in a matter of minutes if they are left on the ground with those conditions. Rick would roll them into a tall sided sled and run for the barn with the excited mother following along. It took superhuman effort to keep 24 hour watch on the cattle, taking turns with the hired man snatching bits of sleep here and there. Thankfully, all of those nights are in the past.

This year is nothing like the last. Calving has begun and Mother Nature is on our side.

Karen’s Ranch Report February 20, 2007

2007-02-20T17:58:00.000-08:00

Karen’s Ranch Report February 20, 2007

MeiMei emailed from Taiwan in advance of Mr. Chin’s visit to Montana as guests of Montana Bunkhouses Working Ranch Vacations and the Sanders Ranch. She explained to me that Dennis was a well renowned photographer and from her I learned he was technically brilliant. What I learned first hand was how compassionate he is and how interested he is in every person he meets. We all hold value to him and he makes conversation with us in a way that puts us at ease even in the face of his big lens camera.

We folded him in to our lives and he warmed our hearts. We introduced him to our friends and neighbors--took him along to be part of the seemingly endless feeding and tending of livestock that keeps a rancher busy during cold winter days. At day’s end, we played old time western music with him in the center of the group clapping his hands and keeping time with the rancher-musicians. Eyes shining with appreciation, he said “these are the songs of my childhood memories!”

He recorded the cowboys gathering the cows and sorting the heavies, their horses anticipating every move and eager to please. The newborn calf getting his first nourishment put Dennis flat on his stomach so he could get just the right angle of the life-sustaining suckle. He photographed the barren forest fire ravaged mountain top and the horses lined up for their hay, listening as we told heroic tales of those who lived the Darby Fire. And he paid attention to detail everywhere we went: the whiskers of the barn cat, the jingle bob on grandpa’s spurs, and the patterns in the wind-sculpted snow.

Big Timber was once known as the Wool Capital of the World. We visited sheep men feeding their flock. Everywhere we went Dennis asks questions. How do the sheep and cattle get along and what about the cowboys and sheepherders? Nothing passed him by whether it was matters of economics or matters of the heart.

We joked about keeping him longer – and we explained justice Montana Vigilante style. However, it was Dennis in the end that took matters into his own hands and decided to stay an extra day rather than go to Yellowstone Park. He said, Mammoth will always be there, but this [way of life is vanishing] and it is more important to be here and now. And we loved him for it.

The extra day was well spent. Armed with Julie’s freshly baked cinnamon rolls we headed to the neighbors where 4 generations of Valgamores work together raising cattle. Grandson Corby caught a sick calf with a lucky loop, as he called it, and doctored it while Dennis watched. Once again, detail was not overlooked and the tops of cowboy boots sticking out above the muddy overshoes were captured along with Grandpa Henry’s approving smile.

Then we headed to the little country school in Springdale where a half dozen little buckaroos were lined up in front of the school’s computers…cowboy hats tipped back on their heads as they continued their studies. “Everything is a circle” said Dennis, as he reflected on the generational family ranch, “and that is how it should be!” Here where the spirit is rich in tradition and hearty in hospitality.

And he told us he will be back for branding in the Spring. That makes us smile.

Winter Cattle Drive

2007-02-11T17:10:00.000-08:00

Winter Cattle Drive

Ah, the good life. Just imagine you are trailing cattle down the Old West trail with mountains looming on the horizon. You expect it to be hot and dusty? Hello!!! Instead there is a refreshing breeze and on occasion you are riding on snowbanks so hard that your horse does not even sink in. Dressed in Carhartt coat and bibs and face mask under your scotch cap…you’re authentic western all right. And that breeze is more like a gale and it is blowing dirt and hair …and when that cow peed in the wind; you made mental note not to ride so close next time. It is fifteen miles to Big Timber door to door from the ranch…. And then another couple of miles the other side of town to the Boulder River Ranch. Temperature was right at freezing and throughout the day we cussed and discussed the weather … mostly remarked on the wind which blew hard in the morning and then leveled off right into our face at about 25 mph all afternoon.

Welcome to the winter cattle drive. This is ranch life. That’s how it is. Often the weather dictates what we can do but this time it was not like we could just wait for a warm day; we settled for a do-able day. Dictated by gestation tables and feed and family schedules… it was time to trail the cattle to the home place before calving begins in earnest. Officially calving begins the day after Valentines, however the first set of lively twins was born last night…it was time. “Look on the bright side,” Grandpa remarked, “no mosquitoes when we trail in February!”

OK… so …maybe not your typical cattle drive. Certainly not the kind you would invite guests to join…but we enjoyed the camaraderie of friends and family. I drove the pickup pulling the stock trailer and kept the heater going for anyone who wanted to trailer their horse and warm up in the cab for a while. I can not ride yet because I still have the “siraloP” imprint on my leg. [My spell checker does not know that “siraloP” is Polaris 4-wheeler spelled backward.]

My job was to drive and be a “story listener” as the grandkids rode with me in the cab and spun yarns. Jordan (7) showed me the exact spot on the trail where she had her first sip of coffee as a three year old and she said never told a soul because she thought it was something to keep secret like your first sip of beer. Jess (5) confided how his friend Sam said a bad word; he watched for my reaction and predictably, I disapproved. Well, Jess continued, he had said that bad word too…after all, he heard his dad and his grandpa say it…so he just had to say it “to get it out of my system!”

And then besides the predictable yarns of remember when we came to this spot last year, there was the unpredictable. Although bucking broncos are not unusual when taking young horses on their first big ride outside. The wind gets them frazzled. When it happened, (all four legs up…all four legs down, hard,) Jami dusted herself off and got back on. Then for the rest of the ride, her colt took an interest in the cattle and went along like nothing ever happened. [Hint: don’t ask to ride Ben until he gets a little older and more sure of himself!] But the cattle drive is sure good for young horses and it is a darn side better for the cows than the stress of trucking them.

When the colt lit into crow-hopping, the cows went the wrong dang way and they headed for McLeod instead of Big Timber. But it was cold enough that Grandpa could ride right across the frozen swamp and head them back toward our destination… on to the overpass where we had to cross over the Interstate. That was a little tricky because we had six cars from each direction not wanting to wait for the ponderous mother cows who were taking their time deciding when to cross over the highway traffic noise.

Friends and family strategically parked their vehicles and helped encourage the cows to stay the course until we could get through town. Cort flagged from Indian Rings Subdivision. He showed me the spurs he was making and I admired the sleek Calvary styling and coveted the jinglebobs he had fashioned. Great Grandma Betty, at age 83, was parked at the Fishing Access when we trailed over the Boulder River Bridge. She had baked fresh cinnamon rolls and made strong coffee which she served up along the trail midmorning. Tom Ivey ate his cinnamon roll from his car while parked in a lane near the golf course. Sure would not have wanted those cows to take a romp through the golf greens.

It did not take long before the old cows were “trail broke” and they plodded their way down the streets through the edge of town, behind the Frosty Freeze and then along the railroad tracks to the frontage road. These older cows kinda know the way but Grandpa recalled earlier years when there were stampedes because a train came through town a blowin’ their horn. Would have been some “wrecks” this year if we had been behind those hundred heifers …old cows are a real joy. We had two trains and no troubles either time.

With these first two “town” miles behind us and fifteen more to go, we just had to watch for haystacks and country lanes, navigate the Yellowstone River Bridge at Grey Bear Fishing Access and then on home. We loaded our horses in the trailer by mid-afternoon and for the last 5 miles, the cows were on the honor system. They know where their hay is going to be in the morning and after they took a little rest, they continued on their own. Twelve hours from the time we saddled up, the last of the 200 cows made it to the ranch.

Soaking in the hot tub that night, Grandpa said he had enjoyed riding his Foxie mare and bragged on how quickly she turned after a cow that tried to double back. He likes to brag on Foxie. And since no one was hurt, he could chuckle at how daughter Jami “rode to the buzzer” and how she would not think of missing a cattle drive regardless of the weather.

Then before the inevitable nap …Grandpa crooked one arm over the edge so he did not slide into the hot tub and drown. Happy as a lark and overcome with love he said “I love you guys…love you very much.” And midst the splashing came the reply “We love you too Grandpa!”

Life is good.
And…The cows are home.

Montana Ranch Christmas Message

2006-12-24T09:00:00.000-08:00

MONTANA RANCH CHRISTMAS MESSAGE
Written by Scott Wiley of Wiley Ranch.

The sun was just trying, to start up another day
There was a bunch of clouds up there, floating in the way.
Course that’s the way I like it, makes one wonder what to say
The prettiest of the all the colors, put up there on display.

The air had crispness, frost covering up the ground
Time to take care of the animals, start up another round.
The calm was almost deafening, the wind at last was still
I was in no hurry, seems I have time to kill.

All of God’s creatures, the small and mostly the big
Heard what I was doing, as I started up the diesel rig.
Calls were coming from all directions; it’s a good thing to hear
What I found on this day though, was music to my ear.

For once all of God’s creatures, were very fond of me
I even let that coyote go, thought best to let him be.
This is the day we celebrate, a very special birth
The day we should take stock in, our very own wealth and worth.

On this day many years ago, they experienced the coming of the Lord
It now has turned into presents and decorations, things we can’t afford.
The meaning of the sacrifice, and the hardships they endured
They are now all but forgotten, replaced by the advertiser’s word.

As I’m looking out and feeding, some of His amazing creatures
Too many are in their world, watching football double features.
If more people would just be thankful for the simplest of things
More of them would forget about the stuff, that ol’ Santa brings.

From working with the animals, a few things I have learned
To most people nowadays, these thoughts they will be spurned.
More time has been wasted, looking for the perfect present to buy
Time is what matters cause things change, with the blink of an eye.

I know my kids will remember, when I am grey and old
Times I spent doing things with them, not presents made of gold.
The hours I’ve spent working, the money I have earned
Is but a mere pittance, to what the kids have returned.

It’s just too bad that Santa can’t package time, and put it under our tree
That is what I’d wish for, with ribbons and bows just for me.
Cause I know that if there’s a beginning, there has to be an end
And you spend most of your life not knowing, what’s up around the bend.

If people just took the time, to spread a little cheer
Why then we could have Santa come, every day of the year.
Then we wouldn’t be confusing Jesus, with all this material stuff
We could then just celebrate Christmas, without the presents and fluff.

So this is what I ask of you, my advice you don’t have to heed
Go out and give some time this Christmas, to someone that is in need.
Spend some of it on children; their faces will start to glow
Take the time to say Merry Christmas, to someone you don’t know.

Write a letter to a soldier, serving and alone in a foreign land
Call up your good neighbor, and offer a helping hand.
Go visit with an old friend, even if you have little to say
Just giving someone some time makes it a special day.

Don’t forget your parents, and all those many relatives
Time is passing quickly, who knows how long someone lives.
Hold the door open, help the mother with her young
And when you have bitter thoughts, be sure and bite your tongue.

Time is the one thing, gold and millions can never buy
How you spend it is how you’re remembered, when you lay down and die.
A daily dose of being Santa, should be coming from our hearts
Giving time to others, is where the feelings start.

The cows and horses are now all fed; I better get back into the house,
I had better go spend some time, with the kids and the spouse.
Before I go, I’m going to stop and take the time to say
Merry Christmas to you all, have yourselves a wonderful day.

Scott Wiley 2006

Sheep Shearing Crew

2006-11-11T17:13:00.000-08:00

Sheep Shearing Crew

The Chapel brothers, Travis and Wes, came to the ranch to shear our 240 sheep yesterday. It is earlier in the season than we usually shear but the weather was pretty good and they were available--working around the crew’s other full time jobs of teaching, driving wrecker and working concrete. They bring their own shearing plant with its four stations and back it up to our chute. Loud country music plays above the din of the electric clippers. The long accurate cuts of the shearers maintain the integrity of the three inch wool fibers. We raise Targhee sheep and they have wool graded as 62 and categorized as fine wool as compared to the coarse wool of crossbreds.

Travis’s girlfriend was conned into coming with him and she swept up the wool and sorted “bellies and dirty wool from fine” and readied the wool for stomping into sacks. They arrived right after breakfast and went through our sheep in time for midday meal at the ranch house. No holding back with a Chapel. These guys are fun loving and outgoing…none of them afraid of work.

It was a treat to see Pat Chapel drive down the bumpy lane to the sheep shed. The youngster with him is Daniel who at three years old is almost 80 years younger than his great grandfather Pat. It is clear that Daniel is a Chapel as he joins the crew of kids working the sheep. Each taking a turn “Mutton Busting” riding the sheep in the holding pens.

The Chapels have shearing in their blood and that is a story that could go on for a real long time. Chapel blood is thick and it doesn’t dilute out over the generations. Pat is 82; you might say he grew up with my folks and with eyes sparkling he gives me a hug. I remember Pat’s smile and some of the pranks he played on my parents when I was a young girl. He recalled the 35 years that he sheared sheep averaging 10,000 sheep a year…Some more, some less but a total of 350,000 in his career.

Our parents and our grandparents were sheep men and women in the 1920’s and 30’s and 40’s when Big Timber, Montana, was known as The Wool Capital of the World. Coming to Sweet Grass County from the old country (Norway), my grandfather Haug made his home in sheep country on Upper Deer Creek just up the road from Rick’s grandfather Halverson. When my father married my mother they spent their honeymoon summer living in a sheep wagon herding sheep on the grassy slopes of Livingston Peak--Shepherds and shepherdesses in a time when the sheep industry was in its heyday.

But those days are long ago and far away. That’s why story telling is so important. It is all about remembering and sharing the ranch family traditions.

Wolf Saga Continues.

2006-10-15T16:40:00.000-07:00

Wolf Saga Continues.
When I visit with you all…it is always the same question, “what ever happened with the wolves?’ I’ve left this ranch report unwritten far too long.

Rick and the “wolf guys” from the forest service were able to substantiate Cort (our cowboy’s) story. In fact a pack of wolves had killed a 600 pound calf and all that was left was a little piece of hide and a couple of bones. The lady-trapper came and set traps hoping to catch members of this rogue band and collar them so this wolf pack could be monitored. But they were too smart for the traps or too wary of the grizz in the area to come back for the left overs. (Grizz is spelled Ursus horribilis, but let the record show…Rick has yet to lose a calf to a grizzly.)

Soon it was confirmed. This is a splinter group of wolves that have migrated out of Yellowstone Park, members of the Chief Joseph pack. They were not part of the Taylor’s Fork pack that we have observed for the last year. The rangers tell us that the Park habitat is full…no more room for packs…and they are reproducing at an astonishing rate and so they are moving in to the surrounding areas. These wolves have been on a killing spree. They’ve almost put an upper Yellowstone Valley sheep man named Melin, out of business. Other calves have been killed on the Gallatin range and a mule was killed on the Madison River as well as a number of ranch dogs trying to protect their livestock. Now these rivers are not exactly near to each other. If you look at a map, you get the idea how far this pack travels in a matter of days.

Everyone offered advice. Shoot rubber bullets. Chase them with 4-wheelers. The advice most often given by locals was “shoot, shovel, and shut up.” Not advice Rick was prepared to take because shooting a wolf could lead to losing the grazing permit and worse…a possible jail sentence. The re-introduction of the wolves has been a success story when read from the point of view of the wolf. The wolf has all the rights on forest service and the rancher just has to get along.

But in the end, it was the lead that dusted their feet from Cort’s pistol when he caught them in the act that taught them to leave our cattle alone. The remainder of the summer was tense but we did not see evidence of further kiling. Cort was reluctant to leave the mountains unless we went up to relieve him. He rode every day; some days his grand daughter went with him. He knew exactly where the older single male wolf crossed the permit and he knew when that wolf found a mate later in the season. He skirted around the grizzley and her cub. He watched and listened.

Nineteen pair of cattle headed over the mountain going south. They trailed right through lush grass and mountain pasture…they didn’t take time to graze. They wanted out of there. We saddled up and trailed them back to the lower pasture. Nothing satisfied them. The calves did not put on their usual weight. The cows looked rougher than usual. Unseasonable high temperatures was not enough to account for the lighter than average calves.

When we went to gather the cows to bring them home the last days of September, it was wild. Cows were scattered in small bunches and when they were spooked, they ran like elk. Normally a cow dog is a big help moving cattle. One sound out of Rascal, our border collie, and the cow’s tails would go up in the air and they were on the fight. They would turn and chase that dog right back where he came from and then some. Then they would head off in a new direction. They were edgy. So were the pistol-packing cowboys.

The cattle were trailed to the corrals and held there while we waited for the 6 cattle trucks to arrive. When we counted we were two pair short. We knew we lost 3 cows to poison and one calf to the wolves, but what about the other 4?
Rick was confident that they would trail down out of the high country with the first bad storm and there was nothing that could be done until that time.

Ranch Response to the Wall Street Journal

2006-07-21T19:23:00.000-07:00

Ranch Response to the Wall Street Journal
Sent to Conor Dougherty,
Emailed: July 21, 2006
‘conor.dougherty@wsj.com’

A Big Montana Hello to Conor,

I enjoyed reading your 7-7-06 article in the Wall Street Journal titled The Disappearing Dude Ranch. It was well thought out and carefully researched.

I wanted to let you know that dude ranches are not the only ranches facing the “setting sun;” cattle ranches in Montana and elsewhere are in the same situation. The ranch land is far more valuable than the cattle business it supports. We have bumped up against (and in some cases, neighbor) the Brokaws of the world. Newcomers are not known for being good stewards of the land. Jeff Phillips, of Sunset magazine raised Tom Brokaw’s ire when he reported the local sentiment toward out of state land owners. [Sunset February 2005: Home on the Range.]

We don’t look at the land as something we’ve inherited from our fathers. It’s like a trust—we’re really borrowing it from our children. 4th and 5th generation ranch families hang on in spite of the fact the economics of ranching here in Montana really don’t work anymore. Whether too ornery to admit it or too stubborn to quit, we’ve had to look at ways to pull together. As near as we can tell, we are the only ones doing what we’re doing…the way we’re doing it: as an agri-tourism cooperative. Or at least we’re the only group of cattle ranchers in the U.S. hosting guests cooperatively. It is common place in Europe where we borrowed the idea from their Farm Holidays program.

We call ourselves Montana Bunkhouses Working Ranch Vacations and we would like to think that we will be the option for the next “century of summers” giving people a genuine appreciation of the value of the small Western rancher. We are family owned and family operated generational cattle ranches in Montana (15 to date) working together to host guests for what we call an “authentic” working ranch vacation. As you pointed out in your article, in the late 19th century, working ranches took in guests for extra cash…then evolved to where they existed solely to entertain dudes. A criterion for our group is that the primary focus remains production agriculture while opening our homes to folks who want to learn about our way of life is secondary.

Let me know if you have any questions or if you’d like to have a cup of coffee with me or any of the ranch families on our web site!

We welcome you to experience the traditions of our ranching way of life in Montana, where myth has long been in partnership with reality.

Happy Trails,
Karen Searle

Karen at Montana Bunkhouses
Working Ranch Vacations LLC
P.O. Box 693
Livingston, Montana 59047

Office Phone 406-222-6101

http://www.montanaworkingranches.com/
http://www.montanabunkhouses.com/

Battling Weeds

2006-07-11T17:38:00.000-07:00

Battling Weeds

Just think of a ranch as a big garden—a very big garden. Hundreds of acres of land all requiring watering and weeding. Now after some of the driest spring months you can imagine, we just had one of the wettest 4th of July weekends on record and the cowboys riding bulls at the local rodeo were getting bucked off in the mud. All this rain makes it a little difficult to get the haying done, but we are happy for the moisture. The foothills are a shade of green that we have not seen for a few years and it sure makes us smile.

By this time last year we were already seeing fire crews make their way to Montana. Last summer a total of 12,000 firefighters fought fires around the state. If all those people had been living in one place, it would have made the 8th largest city in the state of Montana.

The dry seasons seem to have given an advantage to the weeds. The war on weeds consumes our energy and a big chunk of our pocketbook. Left unmanaged, invasive weeds negatively impact agriculture, wildlife and recreation. Weeds can reduce grass production by up to 90%. In Montana there were only a few spotted knapweed plants not long ago and today more than 5 million acres are infested. The noxious weed list contains more than 100 species.

Leafy spurge has invaded the Boulder River Valley and we are using everything in the toolbox to lower weed populations and that includes herbicides, bio-agents and sheep grazing. Our sheep are “spurge vacuums.” Can’t believe what they can do to a spurge patch in one day. After 4 days in the 40 acre river pasture, there was not a seed head to be found. It is a joy when something far exceeds your expectations. And the sheep are doing it time and again as we move them from field to field. Sometimes they say that sheep need to become accustomed to eating this noxious weed—that it takes a while to get used to eating it. But ours eat it with gusto.

The sheep are some of our favorite animals…they provide food and fiber and they also lower our cost of production because of the fabulously efficient way they control noxious weeds. The are the only animal that eats spurge and they eat it with gusto. They turn a horrible enemy of the West into the delicacy of lamb chops.

Pretty amazing story.

Welcomed, Autism and All.

2006-06-12T17:45:00.000-07:00

Welcomed, Autism and All.
June of 2006
Joan Gilb of Tucson, Arizona, writes:

I’m sure everyone with a child of the spectrum knows how challenging vacations can be. My husband and I have opted for vacations with our son separately, as this seems to work best given his needs, plus it gives one of us some well needed respite.

This spring after a full year of home schooling, I decided to celebrate our success with a vacation I thought both my son and I could enjoy. We loaded up our mini-van and left Arizona bound for Montana. I chose Montana as our destination because I needed a big “carrot” to motivate and make this exciting for my son. For us, Montana is “big carrot” country as dinosaurs happen to be my son’s obsession, and Montana offers many museums and archeological sites. I also knew that I could find many dino museums along the way to keep each day exciting as well.

Now, what to do once we got to Montana besides dino museums? I chose a Montana Bunkhouses Working Ranch Vacations. Montana Bunkhouses are working ranches that only take one family at a time. I thought this would help ensure the environment was not only safe but manageable for our special needs. It was my hope that a working ranch vacation might help expand my son’s interests. If all failed I knew we could at least spend our time on the ranch digging with the hope of finding a fossil!

The ranch family welcomed us, autism and all, and we chose a ranch that seemed to offer the widest range of activities in hopes that one may spark the interest of my son. But ranchers and autism? Could this possibly work? Would they expect my son to “cowboy up” when he screams over the sight of an ant? Would they have even a clue how to elicit conversation from him? Would I be able to find a moment of peace or would this be the vacation from you know where?

You’ve all been there. You know the fear I felt--the reluctance to let go and accept whatever the outcome. Accept the unpredictable nature of a vacation with autism. Accept the possibility of not being accepted.

What I failed to realize when choosing this vacation was that ranchers are skilled in reading and reacting to animal behavior. From their cattle to their sheep to their working dogs these folks live animal behavior. They’re not just about herding and roping and branding. They are about observing and understanding what an animal will do next, which way it will turn, whether it will run or stand still. They have honed these skills for their own survival. And how beautifully these skills can apply to a child with autism. Our host rancher has what we all know in the autism world as the “it factor”. He got it. He seemed to intuitively understand how to elicit the response or reaction he sought.

Needless to say, we had the best vacation ever! I was able to relax and revel in the joy of watching my son. Our ranch host , who we called Rancher Rick, (Rick Jarrett of Crazy Mountain Cattle Company) intuitively knew how to control the tempo and never missed a beat! My son rode on a horse and an ATV, helped irrigate fields, helped dig trenches with the tractor to name just a few activities. It is such a rare and wonderful feeling for me when someone takes a sincere and active interest in my child. Rancher Rick and my son truly enjoyed one another.

The ranch experience was a cathartic one for me. It afforded me the opportunity to sit back and reflect on the remarkable progress my son has made. I think it was when we were all herding sheep that it came to me. This scene and my participation was the physical manifestation, a snapshot so to speak, of my life since having a child. I am a shepherdess, guiding my little lamb to greener pastures. In doing so I’ve found myself in greener pastures as well.

Irrigating in Drought Years

2006-06-01T17:38:00.000-07:00

Irrigating in Drought Years

We appreciate Rascal-dog and his antics. He comes on high at the first sound of the 4-wheeler. He believes it is his job to chase the birds and clear the way down the lane and over to the pasture where we are flood irrigating. By the time we get there he is frothing at the mouth from excitement and saliva plasters on his face and neck. He makes a beeline across the set leaving a rooster tail of water in his wake.

While it is not a matter of public record, we choose to believe our forefathers all had dogs with personality. The first generation came trailing thousands of cattle Lonesome-Dove-style from Texas and settling on creeks that are named after them. Reportedly the first to plant alfalfa in the county, our great grandparents had aspirations for sustainable agriculture. Generations that followed have split up and also added to the ranch to make room for their sons and daughters.

Now we are the ones continually watching the level of snow pack in the Crazy Mountains. A good water right is the life blood of a good ranch, irrigating not only pasture but also hay the lands. A water right filed in 1908 doesn’t even count. All of the first rights were filed in the 1800s. First in right, first in time. That’s why the lowest on the creek drainage usually has the first right because it was settled first. And the first permanent settler in Sweet Grass County made his stand on Duck Creek. In the late 1800’s the early settlers dug irrigation ditches by hand and by horse. It took diligence and persistence and knowledge. You have to admire them for their willingness to do the back breaking work.

Even now a lot of what we do in Montana summers is get ready for Montana winters. We hope to get one spring irrigation on pastures before we put the water on the hayfields. Some of the land is not really intended to be irrigated--never leveled or cultivated--but the native grasses really respond to water. Yielding early spring feed for the calves (before they go to the mountains for the summer,) and with any luck, fall pasture for the sheep after the lambs are weaned.

The focus is now on the alfalfa fields. With limited spring run off, the May “high water” mark in the creek was already down to what we would normally see in August . The wheel lines are operational but the seal is broken on the filter for the center pivot. Rick is trying to get it running but things don’t always match up--have to go back for parts. Lots of mainline to put together. Time is money and every drop of water counts.

Mother Nature and politics are beyond our control and it is wreaking havoc on our state of mind. It is hard to put a brave face on the drought this many years in to it. Depending on where we live in Montana we are facing the 5th, 6th, or even 7th year of drought. It is like Mother Nature turned her back on us after the hundred-year floods of 96 and 97. Some Montana counties have already been designated emergency drought areas due to below normal precipitation. It kinda takes the starch out of you--that and the volatility in the cattle market due to mad cow disease. Will the borders be open or closed? Will Japan allow us to export? There is so much beyond our control that it is making ranchers afraid to make decisions about selling or buying cattle and about stocking rates in general.

Rick’s usually happy go-lucky character is pretty darn serious these days. After years of problem solving his way through ranching, he says he is losing his starch. It will be a wicked fire season if this low moisture continues, not to mention what the lack of irrigation water will mean. He states simply, “Know the road, but don’t see the end.”

Rancher-Farmer and His Dog

2006-04-10T17:11:00.000-07:00

The Rancher/Farmer's Dog

According to Rick, real farmers go south for the winter…while ranchers “give it a go” twelve months out of the year. Another way to tell the difference is the age and general condition of the tractor they are driving. A rancher’s tractor is not as nice and darn lucky just to have a cab. Rick ought to know…for the last few days he has been turning the ground black. A new way to plow snow he reports laughingly from his vantage point. He is playing rancher-farmer today on his March birthday as he edges further in to the second half of his century, celebrating by making furrows in the light sprinkle of snow.

Annually on a six or seven year rotation, farmers rest a portion of their alfalfa fields, till up the seed bed for a nurse crop of hay barley, control the weeds and then plant it back to a high yield mix of grass and alfalfa. It is a challenge to find time for farming in Montana because Springtime is fickle and sometimes Winter seems to melt into Summer with only a small window for tilling. Calving comes first and then lambing. Irrigating comes on the heels of lambing. Temperatures have been in the 40’s and 50’s these past few spring days and there is a forecast for the weather to turn nasty by the weekend. Rick fired up the John Deere. It is pulling hard and sucking fuel.

Our Border Collie Rascal is dashing to and fro along the edges of the field. The hawks are flying so high it is hard at first to make the connection between their soaring and his behavior. Rascal needs psychotherapy or a set of wings! But he is not so intent on bird watching that he does not notice when Rick powers down and pulls over to check the cows or makes his way to the barn to assist a heifer giving birth.

Last night when Rick pulled the tractor to the edge of the field and shut her down, Rascal knew it was time to put the sheep in the barn. Some times working and playing are the same thing on the ranch. And when it comes to putting the sheep in the barn, with Rascal on hand, it is playing. He covers all the bases. He does not “wrassle” or hassle them…he just puts them in the shed. He is such an interesting mutt. Whether he is trying to fly like a bird or playing hide and seek, he is an entertainer.

Shearing of the Sheep

2006-03-02T17:12:00.000-08:00

Shearing of the Sheep

“Let me help Gramps!” shouts grandsons Jess and Cole as they crawl over the fence. They revel in pushing the sheep down the alley to the shearers, and they are darn good help. They work hard and they know what to do. Ranching has always been a way of life for these 5 and 6 year old boys. They’ve been wrestling sheep since before they learned to tie their shoes. They’ve learned how to read the sheep. They know how the sheep is going to react and they know how to position themselves. If a sheep goes in a corner, eventually it is going to come out and as Jess says “you’re gonna get nailed if you don’t move!” It is fun to watch them learn. It lays the foundation for an understanding of animal behavior that will help to keep them safe should they have the opportunity to pursue their lifetime goal of becoming ranchers.

It took the shearing crew of 6 men just three hours to shear our 250 sheep yesterday. The shearers get paid by the number of sheep they shear and bucks count twice (triple if they have horns.) We have 9 bucks so our tally was 259. Over supper the men commented that they thought our ewes were pretty big for Targhee ewes. It was the end of the day and they had already sheared two other flocks that day. Maybe that had something to do with it!

Rick recalls one year when it took 30 days to shear his dad’s 1800 sheep because it rained every day. It was the year he was a freshman in high school. They were shearing in a remote area on a creek named for his great grandfather who homesteaded in Sweet Grass County just across the river from what is now the home place. The homestead was primitive. No water, no electricity. They would haul water from the creek and clean the place up the best they could and then Rick’s mom, Betty, would set about to cook for the crew of men. It was standard to provide American crews all their meals and coffee breaks.

The shearers would arrive early in June and set up their shearing plant run on a gas operated generator. Rick and his father, Robert Jarrett, would get up at 4:00 A.M. and sort all the lambs from the ewes. There was a little shed up there that would only hold about 100 sheep. Montana’s sheep shearers belong to a union and they would not start until 8:00 am and by that time it would be raining again. They would shear the little bunch in the shed and the others outside would be too wet so Rick and his dad would get up the next day and try all over. They would run the sheep through chute again and sort off the lambs. It was a lot of work. It did not just happen. But they had no choice. When sheared wet, sheep give off an ammonia smell that eats away at your lungs. Over a period of time it destroys the protective lining of your lungs and can cause what is called “shearers pneumonia.”

The fleeces were tied and tromped into big wool sacks, 30 to a sack. The corral was down in a draw so they’d roll the wool sacks on big poles to keep them out of the mud. They’d tarp the sacks every day to keep them dry. It took a 40 foot semi-truck to haul the wool and they transported the 50 or 60 sacks to the wool house in Big Timber when the shearing was done. Rick remembers pulling the sheep wagon across the creek after all that rain and before he made it to the other side there was water coming in through the floor boards of his truck.

Everything was wet and muddy and it was tough trying to feed a dozen men under those conditions…no refrigerator or electricity. Had to do chores at the home place and then travel the 15 miles up to the sheep camp every day to feed the dozen or so men. Six shearers, a tier and a tromper as well as a man branding sheep and three or four guys pushing the sheep to keep the same numbers in each pen. The rain was troublesome …but there was green grass and there was water that year. It was glorious!

After years of feeding a crew in these primitive conditions, Betty Jarrett said that was enough of that. The next year Crazy Mountain Sheep Company hired a Mexican crew to shear sheep. The Mexican crew came with their own cook and they did their own tieing and tromping so it required very little additional labor. They’d pull in to sheep camp and within 15 minutes they would have killed a sheep, skinned it and thrown it up on the hood of the old bus to age. They would kill a mutton every couple of days while they were working and that is what they ate.

There were no designated mealtimes; the cook would have tacos or a stew simmering on the campfire at all hours of the day. The machines never stopped. When a shearer went to take a break, somebody else would take his place. They would shear as fast as they could because they got paid by the head. And they would often get rough by the end of the day when they started getting tired. Making a suggestion that they take more care would simply get them on the fight. So Bobby would mention it once and if they did not slow down he would simply open the gates and let the sheep out. They pretty much figured out that they had to be careful if there were going to shear for Jarretts.

In the 1920’s and 30’s and 40’s Big Timber, Montana, was known as The Wool Capital of the World. The sheep industry was still in its heyday when our parents were alive, but those days are long ago and far away. Now the sheep numbers are in decline after years of low commodity prices and predators. Consequently we see the demise of the infrastructure of the sheep industry in the United States. Slowly there are fewer crews available to shear and fewer slaughter houses and less American lamb sold in grocery stores. It is a vanishing way of life.

The sheep industry was a magnificent industry that is slowly dieing. It is important for our grandkids to be a part of this while they can…staying home from school to help with shearing. Ranch work helps kids define their work ethic and builds character. Yesterday the kids made a difference in the workload and they certainly made it more entertaining. They may be the last generation of kids to remember when there was an American sheep industry. We need to be sure they know the stories of their granddad and his forefathers…not only telling the old stories but making new ones where the kids play a role.

When you stop to think about it that way, you realize why story telling is so important. It is all about remembering and sharing the ranch family traditions.

The Sheepherder’s New Truck

2005-12-11T17:32:00.000-08:00

The Sheepherder’s New Truck

There is a story brewing about Saundra and her grandpa’s Ford pickup. Something about turning 15, taking driver’s training and getting a learner’s permit has motivated her. She is interested in oil changes, carburetor workings, glass pack mufflers, cherry gear shift knobs and new seat covers. We tease that she is getting ready for a Montana double date…that means Saundra will drive with her Rascal-dog in the middle and her date on the other side. She smiled, that appeals to her.

Saundra’s Grandpa Alfred bought this pickup new in 1977 and it is still in good shape with low mileage. Only new pickup he ever bought. He was retired from sheep and cattle and ranching and his priority then was carpentering and fishing. Now thirty years later, the pickup is a classic and about to be spit polished. we wonder aloud how many calves it took to buy a new pickup in 1977.

And all this talking about Grandpa Alfred’s pickup was enough to prime the pump so to speak. Rick began to think about his dad’s 1962 Ford. It was also the only new pickup that his dad ever bought and he paid $4500 for it. That number is significant because it is the same amount of money that Grandpa Bobby had put into parts to repair his old International pickup in the previous three years. Every time they took the darn thing to sheep camp it would quit on them. Just like the old International truck with the rake tooth for a handle, you couldn’t depend on it.

Bobby Jarrett ordered his 1962 four wheel drive pickup with seventeen inch wheels and tires and that gave him 3-4 more inches of clearance in the snow. Rick’s eyes had a faraway look and the story began like this: That pickup had more clearance than any pickup in the world and my dad knew how to drive it. My dad makes me look like an old woman because he never got afraid. Yes, I learned from a master when it comes to driving in the hills. Why, when I was pretty little my dad had a Willys Jeep that looked like a pickup. One time we were going to sheep camp on a narrow road and the front wheel hit a big rock and we tipped over on our side. Crawled out from the upside driver’s window and looked over the edge and we could still see cans and groceries rolling way down the hill. Had we tipped all the way over and rolled, it would have probably killed us. We walked back to Springdale and my dad acted like nothing to it. Chances are we got a ride home and he went back the next day to right the outfit while I stayed home and cried because I always wanted to go along.

I loved to go to sheep camp and all the time I begged to drive. By the time I was eight years old I was driving to sheep camp with regularity. But more than the thrill of driving was the joy that came from being with my dad. There was nothing better than going with my dad to sheep camp and seeing the sheepherder and drinking coffee from a tin cup. I can still smell the coffee being made on the sheep wagon’s pot bellied stove, boiling with the grounds. They would pour me a cup and I’d sit and visit with them and they’d make me feel like a grown up, one of the guys. And if we were lucky, there would be salt mutton and we could eat lunch.

The sheep would stay up there in our mountain pasture until the end of January and the cattle did not come home until the first of March. Every day during January and February we’d go through Springdale and then drive the five miles up Mendenall Creek to the camp to feed hay. We’d drive those tippy little hillsides with a load of hay five bales high. Dennis was our hired man then. He is still alive and he can tell about those drives we made. One day we fell through a bridge. The front tires made it across but the back wheels were just hanging in the air. We had a jack and we just kept putting loose boards under the wheels and eventually we got across.

We bucked the sheep up there in November. Two thousand sheep with forty head of bucks. The sheep grazed on the open range during the day and there was too much country for the bucks to keep up with the ewes so the sheep would all be herded into the bucking corral in the evening. They would breed the ewes at night. There were bunks in the pasture and the herder would fill the bunks with grain for the ewes. Little feeders made in a “V” using two 1x6 boards. Musta been 30 or more. That was quite a job carrying oats from the granary all by hand with five gallon buckets. Then in the morning he would open the sixteen foot gate and stand with a stick to sort the ewes from the bucks. If a buck tried to get out the sheep herder would yell BUCK! And hit the buck on the head. After a week or so when the herder would stand at the gate and yell BUCK!...the bucks would sort themselves and stay back without so much as the swinging of a club. Oh, you should have been there for some of those days.

I remember one winter day my dad was driving up a steep hill side and the sheep had been trailing on that hill side so it was packed with ice. He had a ton of grain in the back for the sheepherder to feed to the sheep and the wheels lost traction and broke loose. We started sliding toward the coulee and I ask if we should jump and dad’s reply was “no we gotta see if we can save this pickup.” Some how we caught on a little piece of sage brush and were able to get stopped and put the chains on. It was always a game to see if you could get by without chaining up…but it was standard procedure to chain up all fours plus do a little shoveling when you went to sheep camp in snowy weather.

In later years after my dad died, I continued the tradition of hauling feed to the Mendenhall and Jarrett Creek pastures. (Named after my great great-grandparents who settled there.). We had 250 cows to feed and we had to get there every day in the winter. Some days snowdrifts would block the road so we would try to go up side hills to get around them. After Chinook winds, there would be a thaw and then things would freeze up again and be slippery as heck. Every day was an adventure.

Just though the gate and across the bridge it was good topsoil and not much rock so it would get deep ruts toward spring. The ruts would fill with snow and then ice. It would be muddy everywhere else so I would drive up the rut. That road winds on a gentle climb for about a quarter of a mile before it turns into a steep son of a gun. Dennis could probably tell the story better…but as I recall we had only gone about 20 yards up the steep part of the hill cruisin’ along with a big load of hay when we spun out and started sliding back wards. With all four wheels locked up we were going back wards at speeds up to 30 miles an hour. Around corners, down grades, no control, could not even see out of the back window… couldn’t even think about steering. It was quite a ride. Just wild the way the pickup stayed in the rut all the way back to the gate. It was just like going down an Olympic Luge Raceway … backwards…with a load of hay on!

Saundra’s question about oil filters broke the spell and we turned back to the task at hand…but something tells me there are more stories where that one came from. I mumbled "Let’s just hope Saundra does not feel compelled to drive her grandpa’s truck on these roads less traveled."

She smiled. That also appeals to her.

The Cowboy’s Perspective

2005-11-11T17:40:00.000-08:00

The Cowboy’s Perspective

Reading that lofty mutual fund fees are under attack has not been enough to occupy my mind during the last two weeks of my stint as couch potato recovering from my 4-wheeler accident. Wall Street buzz does not tend to be the high priority for ranchers as we contemplate the bank paperwork necessary for operating loan renewals. Before I flung my crutches, I had read every page of the Agri-Newspaper, an assortment of back editions of magazines and the two books I got for last Christmas.

Then my mind started to wander. Back to a ride that Rick and I took with Cort last fall. I’ve wanted to put that experience on paper and this convalescence has given me the time to revel in those rememberings. For those of you who have not met Cort, he is a fine man and a character as well. Cort Strobel, now semi-retired, rides as Rick’s cowboy during summers on the Gallatin Forest grazing permit. Named for his grandfather, Harvey Cort, who built the Cort Hotel in Big Timber and who had the distinction of being the individual owning the largest number of sheep in Montana in his day. Thirty thousand. Harvey had a unique way of keeping his money in circulation. He kept a tab at the bar for his sheepherders. When they got paid in the fall, they tended to come to town on a bender…spend their hard earned money in the bar, stay in the hotel and then when they sobered up…return to the ranch.

Cort spent many an hour working for his granddad as a youngster. He is well acquainted with work. And he knows a lot of things about a lot of things. As we were riding along he noted the squall that was moving in and said this bad weather should be moving the cattle down…if they are still alive. The main bunch of cows had been trucked home from this high mountain pasture the month before when we found we were missing two cows and two calves. We had managed to corral one of the missing calves after several hours of chase. We were looking for tracks…any sign… of the others.

We came upon what could have been mistaken for big cow tracks but Cort pointed out the marks of the dew claws. Moose tracks are readily recognizable in snow. On our ride, we saw more evidence of moose than elk. This is consistent with the data released from the Park Service…elk counts today are just half what they were in 1991. Even the advocates of the 1996 wolf reintroduction see the connection.

Earlier in the week it had warmed enough to turn the first snow into mud. Here and there we would see the wolf tracks in the patches of bare ground--sometimes of a single wolf and then a pack of several wolves. Cort said at the beginning of the summer a big wolf came into the area and then hooked up with a female.

And then we stopped to examine a bear track. Griz. Big ‘un. You can tell by the size and you can see the definition of the claws. I wanted to measure the size of the track but I was afraid to get off my horse. Rick, did you bring your gun? (I noticed Cort never left the cabin without “heat” at his side.) Again Cort laughed, You don’t need a gun…griz prefer elk hunters…not smelly sheepherders! That telling remark speaks more about my heritage than I thought was evident at first glance.

And then the conversation went in different directions. Production agriculture. Ranchers are getting to be a dieing breed. Poaching. Damn criminals are devious but the sum-bitches are not very smart when it comes to poaching. Horses. This mare is mighty fine. She has covered a lot of miles this summer. Jake. I heard that Jake is missing a white mare and a mule from up in this country. They ask us to be on the look out. You going to wait until you are 65 to get Social Security? Hell, no. I’ll sign up next year…no guarantee that I’ll live until I’m 65!

Allison transmission. Never thought I’d like an automatic transmission but the Allison is great. Remember that old 305 six cylinder International with the howling rear end? Had a bent buck rake tooth to hold the door shut. Took a third of a turn on the steering wheel before you make contact. Ya, and I remember the ’62 four-by-four that your dad and Brother Bill were driving one day when the axle broke on the trailer and the wheel fell off. They chained a pole on to hold the axle out of the dirt and drove it home.

Unfortunately we never found any trace of the missing cattle. Cort says he is confident that the poor buggers are wolf or grizzly poop by now. I was darn glad that we found my scotch cap where it had flown off my head during yesterday’s chase. And I was wondering why the heck I had left my long johns in the cabin as it got colder the farther we climbed to higher elevation and hit deeper snow pack. But listening to Rick and Cort talk took my mind off of being cold. We were riding through some White Bark Pine when Cort chuckled…the squirrels do all the work gathering the pine nuts and then the griz come along and to do the harvesting.

And so it continues to unfold… The cowboy’s perspective.

IMAGINARY COWBOY- song

2005-11-01T17:47:00.000-08:00

IMAGINARY COWBOY- SONG

You can see him every morning looking through the window glass
He’s waiting for the sun to dry the dew drops on the grass
You can hear him whistle loud and long run blaze fast and far
As he rolls to the rodeo, in his own back yard

CHORUS

The Imaginary cowboy in a world of make believe
His spurs are cold steel braces from his ankles to his knees
A shaggy collie is his doggie as his lasso splits the air
He’s riding on a silver saddle, but it’s just an old wheelchair.

Now he’ll never ride a real bronco and he’ll never rope a cow
He’ll never wear a six gun, but he’s happy anyhow
His prayers are always from the heart when he goes to sleep at night
God keep me safe forever, and we’ll ride at dawns first light

CHORUS

Now there’s on last rodeo he’ll ride, this time he’ll take first prize
There’ll be no braces on his legs; no pain will fill his eyes
He’ll gather at that great white throne through sparkling hills of sand
And accept a silver saddle, as he shakes his master’s hand.

CHORUS THEN THE IMAGINARY COWBOY
---------------------Ludie Hedricks

Guest Log of the Taiwanese Film Crew

2005-07-30T20:44:00.000-07:00

Guest Log of the Taiwanese Film Crew

From Taiwan they came
Seeking and searching
Wandering and wondering.

Traveling in Montana, Their goal was
To experience the traditions and the hospitality
Of a working ranch vacation.
They came in search of legends and unique experiences.

As it turned out,
It was Liang and Chris and Johnny and Eric and Kobe
who warmed our hearts with their love of life.
Now they are part of the family--
The family of Crazy Mountain Cattle Company.

Their entries in the Bunkhouse guest log were translated
as follows….

Chris:
I came to shoot a movie and now I find myself wanting to live here. At Crazy Mountain Cattle Company you do not find commercialism, Here you find the force of passion and enthusiasm unlike any you will find elsewhere when crossing the country. And there is scenery like pictures with mountains and more mountains dotted with plenty of cows and calves and cowboys who want to keep the traditional cowboy spirit alive. The cowboy spirit is a treasure from nature and from God.

I say this is the real life—to experience the cowboy way of life made living on this land. You find the spirit here, not because of the scenery but because of the people who want to preserve and protect this way of life. I only hope that everything you have will continue so the next generation can experience this way of life. We have never found anyone who loves the land and horses and cows and dogs more than Karen and Rick and Saundra.

If I ever have the chance to come again to the United States, I will come straight to Montana to Crazy Mountain Cattle Company to do it all again. I want another opportunity to fall in love with a cowboy, with a horse and with Montana.

Thanks Karen, Rick and Saundra for your hospitality, thoughtfulness. You are the most thoughtful people that we have ever interviewed. You took good care of us—cooked us wonderful meals and you shared the true cowboy spirit. Again, I sincerely hope that you are able to keep alive the traditional cowboy way of life.

You have our support forever,
Chris Chen
Director of the Taiwanese TV Program called “King of Adventure.

Johnny:
This cowboy family—they are so crazy.
Crazy under the Crazy Mountains.
It is here that we learn about heritage
and about the cowboy spirit.
Because of this family we understand
and we love this way of life.
Anyone wanting to experience everything
about the cowboy way of life
should come to Crazy Mountain Cattle Company.

Unforgettable!

God Bless You.
Amen.

Johnny Chang
Programmer for “King of Adventure”
Taiwanese TV Program

Guest Log Journal Entry:

For gentle people,
We have gentle horses.
For spirited people,
We have spirited horses,
And for people who don’t like to ride,
We have horses who don’t like to be ridden!

Looking Back and Giving Thanks

2005-02-01T19:45:00.000-08:00

Looking Back and Giving Thanks

Looking back I recall how Rick, with his characteristic romantic flair, had tossed his duct-taped down vest in the corner of the porch and into the kitchen he came with a bottle of champagne in one hand and a copy of the February Sunset Magazine in the other. Grinning from ear to ear, he said “We’re gonna have a toast while we read Home on the Range!” Turning the pages, we admired Rob’s photographs which so aptly give the reader a sense of place. And we nodded our heads in agreement as Jeff eloquently drove home the importance of small family ranches and challenged people to think about what they eat. We were privileged to have him feature our Montana ranching community in the telling of his story. Even though we knew we were facing certain indigestion--neither of us much of a drinker--we clinked our glasses with gusto. Here’s to the future of small family ranching. Here’s to Montana Branded Beef. Here’s to Jeff and Rob who believe in us enough to tell our story in pictures and in words. (Not just in a farmer-stockman journal, but in a well-respected mainstream publication read by people on both sides of the Mississippi.) Here’s to Montana Bunkhouses Working Ranch Vacations.
Today, there is still much to celebrate and to be thankful for.
· Comfort in the rhythm of seasons repeating themselves summer after spring and winter after fall and the healing that mends a broken leg or a broken heart.
· Grandkids that fall asleep on our laps while watching the annual cowboy poetry gathering.
· Weather that warms from thirty below to thirty above when the Chinook winds blow in the winter.
· Snowfall in the mountains with some promise of irrigation water, snow for sledding on the hill behind the ranch house and a snowman in the yard.
· The legacy we leave our kids of happy memories as time repeats itself with joy and bitter-sweet sadness.
The importance of this legacy is what sparks my vision, fuels my choices and instills a spirit of entrepreneurship that drives me to continue growing Montana Bunkhouses Working Ranch Vacations in spite of some very large odds.
Thanks and “Hats Off” to my family and my friends in Big Timber and throughout Montana, as they give me encouragement to strike out on my own and to grow the agri-tourism cooperative. Leading the way … going against conventional wisdom. Putting a new face on agriculture… in Montana where myth has long been in partnership with reality.

Planting Seeds

2005-01-15T15:38:00.000-08:00

Planting Seeds

Optimism is a characteristic of most ranchers. Even when we’re grumbling, we’re counting on Mother Nature to eventually be kind to us. When she isn’t kind and we find ourselves in year after year of drought, we try to plant a crop that depends more on sun than rain. We diversify and look to agri-tourism. All the while building relationships with people and groups of people who believe in us—building teams of people who can go from idea to reality.

It’s about planting seeds. Cultivating the seed bed carefully and then hoping that we’ve planted the seeds at the right season, praying for enough moisture to get the seeds sprouted. And then once the seeds have sprouted we’re right back to needing more water or more drought resistant seedstock. That’s how it is with marketing.

We’ve had some successes. Our familiarization tour for travel writers planted seeds and they have sprouted into magazine articles. On the eve of the publication of the Sunset article, we find that our website is a graphic instead of text. I’m not sure where to go next with this analogy … maybe it means that we bought the wrong kind of seed for one of our fields …very pretty but yielding little fruit. So we are frantically bouncing along with the dust a flying trying to get the infrastructure in place before the next rain and the sunrise/sunset that we know is coming. Consultants have been brought into the field and the website is taking on a new look. Mostly the changes are behind the scene—underground where the search engines crawl.

We’re building relationships with people who believe in us. Some people believe in us for what they have seen us do in past decades. For my part that means people in Livingston who watched me get things done in the health care field. I built relationships when I worked with a task force to get funding for our community health center thereby addressing the medical needs of low income residents. Sharon Walker was on my task force and she is now the chairperson for the Park County Alliance Development Corporation (PCADC). When she learned about our working ranch vacations, she put me in touch with the executive director of this economic development group and within a matter of days I was a member of their Agriculture Committee and spoke to that group at their meeting last Wednesday. This group is looking to find ways to make those of us in agriculture economically viable. PCADC is a think tank and they are scattering seeds all over the place. One idea is a plan to develop a county model for a state wide initiative based on the successes in Utah to promoting “Heritage Highway 89 from Yellowstone to Glacier.” Along with other celebrations of history and heritage, Montana Bunkhouses would be featured in that promotion.

Yesterday we spoke with Jeff Phillips on the phone. He believes in us. Our article will appear in Sunset in two weeks—a magazine that plans more than a year in advance will feature us twice in less than a year because he made it happen. He continues to read and enjoy the ranch reports and as a result he feels like he has spent the winter with us…he questioned Rick …when was he going to stop chasing coyotes with his car? and Rick’s ready reply was “when there are no more coyotes or when they stop making cars!” And as for writer’s block, he said “No fair!” At Sunset magazine they have agonizing annual issue planning sessions to come up with fresh new ideas…he says “it’s like cheating” because Karen has an unfair advantage--all she has to do is watch Rick and Rascal for inspiration.

That was when we learned that while Jeff was visiting Crazy Mountain Cattle Company last June, we were planting seeds for a bigger crop and we did not even know it. Jeff is very interested in the whole idea of the western family cattle ranch and sees us as an endangered species. And he understands that mad cow disease has put gasoline on the fire of people thinking more about where their food is coming from, where it is raised, and whether it was fed parts of other animals. He gets it. And while he realizes that the issue is more complex the more you look at it, he continues his case study regarding the future of the western ranch.

Sunset magazine and Jeff Phillips have for some time been looking at ranching in various parts of the west. Seeing how people are managing their land and resources trying to hold it together and find a way to pass it to the next generation. Everyone is diversifying their operations and he joked about our “rustlin’ tourists” in the hopes of remaining economically viable. He has been looking for a ranch that epitomizes the problems, issues, and concerns on a lot of different fronts. The search (in his words) has been for the “quintessential old fashioned 3rd, [4th or 5th]generation ranch that represents the issues that family ranches face.”

He believes he has found that ranch in Crazy Mountain Cattle Company. He sees the importance not only of the food/beef we raise, but the advantage of ranchers keeping lands open instead of having them subdivided. More importantly that he has found the ranch in a place with a sense of a bigger community--an agriculture community that is interconnected and working together to preserve our heritage and our way of life. That is how Montana Bunkhouses and Sweet Grass County ties into this.

At 4:00 am this morning it started raining. Since I started typing you all this report, it has continued to rain. The rain is most likely going to be the story of the day, watering our seeds. But there is anther story brewing. With our blessings, Jeff went in to his magazine’s planning session yesterday to propose a June visit to Big Timber and Crazy Mountain Cattle Company. He wants a story that will let his readers know what it is like to live and work on a cattle ranch. I can visualize myself dashing down the road in a sprint, throwing myself in to Jeff Phillips arms and giving him the most exuberant hug he has had in a long time. Thanking him for the opportunity we will have to put a face on agriculture.

Auction Sales with Lynn Sanders

2004-12-11T18:32:00.000-08:00

Auction Sales with Lynn Sanders

Twenty years ago Lynn Sanders had an old late-40’s model International truck with a low-boy trailer. Lynn and Rick took off for an auction in Roundup and that thing never got over 35 miles per hour. They stopped and cleaned the carburetor and set the points; even so, could not get the darn thing to run well. But they made it to Roundup and Rick bought an old baler and a 3-bottom spinner plow. Could get the baler started but the drive belt was in bad shape so it did not have enough traction to drive it up into the trailer. They had two boomers and a half length of chain and worked until they could wench that thing up there one-quarter inch at a time until we had it on the trailer. Only Lynn and Rick would ever attempt anything like that.

It is the baler Rick uses to this day. Son-Jay was still in high school then and he is in his 30s now. Paid $2900 for it and then brought it home and put in another thousand dollars worth of belts. Six months later they went to another auction and Lynn bought the very same model baler. He paid $3000 for his in better shape and only twenty miles from home. Just got in it and drove it to his house. He is lucky that way.

For two decades Lynn and Rick have been going to auction sales and having a grand time buying stuff and then trying to decide how to use it. They’d drive down the road together and pretty soon they’d have everything figured out in the whole world. How to raise their kids and everybody else’s, make politics work and the economy go. They had it all under control. I don’t know how to explain it…they just really connected. Somehow ranching gave them a common bond; their philosophical bents were similar. They found it fascinating and fun to buy old equipment and then keep it running.

But those who know Lynn are drawn to more than simply his ingenuity …there is something about Lynn and his wife Julie that I call inherent goodness. That goodness is found in every one of their family members. It is hard to think of anyone with more fond thoughts than I have when thinking of Lynn and Julie Sanders.

It is a privilege to call the Sanders friends.

Undaunted Stewardship

2004-11-15T19:00:00.000-08:00

Undaunted Stewardship

The coffee pot is on. We spent the afternoon sitting around the ranch house kitchen table discussing long term goals…talking about our role as good stewards of the land… to preserve and improve the land … the roots are deep and the conversation is serious. Rick is the 5th generation in his family to think about the next season’s challenges as he tries to make a living in production agriculture. Like his father before him, Rick ponders how he will be able to pass it on to the next generation.

Another cup of coffee and more paper work later…Rick proclaims in his usual no-bullshit manner: “The bottom line is the bottom line… You can’t starve a profit out of a cow and you must take care of the land if you expect it to take care of you.” That is his way of explaining his goals to remain economically viable … to follow ecologically sound practices and to leave the land in better shape than it was when he became responsible for it over 25 years ago.

It is as though all of a sudden…”we looked around and discovered that we are all on the same page.” It is unique because some of these groups have historically been on opposing sides and now they are coming together…historic, conservation and agricultural groups agreeing…we need to spread the word about good stewardship…And this program, the Undaunted Stewardship Program, is a way to recognize the Montana’s farm and ranch families who are preserving Montana’s open space and scenic beauty while producing food and fiber using agricultural practices that are environmentally sustainable.

Last summer a local Boy Scout Troup camped on our ranch near the old Duck Creek School House as they followed Clark’s trek along the Yellowstone. Montana is where the Corps of Discovery spent more time than anywhere else. Today thanks to generations of agricultural stewardship, these historic landscapes still look largely the same – more so than in any other state. Our goal: to keep them that way. Undaunted Stewardship Certification recognizes those who help keep them natural, productive – and agricultural.

Other Montana ranch families are having these same discussions. They want to tell their story… and ideas have progressed to reality resulting in the development of what has become one of the largest partnerships in the state…the Undaunted Stewardship Program. It is a partnership between Montana’s agricultural and conservation organizations and individual ranch families. Led by Montana State University, the Montana Stockgrowers Association, and the Bureau of Land Management … ranchers are working to preserve Montana’s history, environment, and rural communities by encouraging sustainable stewardship of private agricultural lands. Sixteen other organizations complete the public/private partnership … from CattleWomen, to Woolgrowers … from the Wilderness Association to the Grain Growers… from the Governor’s Office to the USDA Natural Resources Conservation Office.

University’s Environmental Studies Program visited the ranch

2004-10-18T14:21:00.000-07:00

Graduate students from the University’s Environmental Studies Program visited the ranch:

Senator John Esp, Professor Tom Roy and a number of his graduate students

In letters of thanks dated October 18, 2004, Professor Roy wrote:What we do as educators should enable students to become critical thinkers and I don’t know that I have had a richer experience in seeing students appreciate and utilize their thinking capacities than we did [at Crazy Mountain Cattle Company] in Big Timber.

I can say with certainty that each of us returned to Missoula with a much fuller and I hope deeper understanding of ranching-farming in Montana and I think I can safely say a common agreement with you and your neighbors that keeping agricultural land in production is essential to Montana’s future.

I know that we all came away with new perspectives on land conservation easements and the controversy surrounding reintroduction of the wolf into Yellowstone National Park. Indeed on our drive back to Missoula we spent the four hours discussing the wolf. I wish you could have been there. Among the five of us there were a range of opinions about what should be done and varying degrees of sympathy for ranchers and the wolf. But all agreed that ranchers had to have the tools to succeed in keeping their ranch operations viable. I don’t think we would have had that same conversation driving to Big Timber.

For me the most exciting part of our visit was the realization driving home that students were thinking independently…that they had listened and been open to new perspectives and had recognized the limitations of what they had presumed to know. When we got to Missoula I told them that the most important thing that they could do in the years ahead was remember these three days and our discussion and never forget to challenge accepted “wisdom” no matter from what side it came.

Two of the students came in today to ask if they could use a class period to share their experiences in Big Timber with those in the class who could not come. I said certainly and they shall focus upon their new understanding about land conservation, wolf reintroduction and noxious weed issues. I can assure you that the voice of the rancher will be heard in a way we have not articulated before.

I believe that what we are about in Environmental Studies is building healthy communities. The environment is one piece of such communities…as are jobs, good schools, a sound economy, adequate health care etc. I wish I was smart enough to know all that healthy communities require and how we insure such communities across Montana. I am not. But I do believe that meeting and spending time together as we did is the beginning of learning and figuring out how we can keep Montana a special place for all of us and I am going to propose to the university faculty that we plan a similar adventure to Big Timber for next year. I would like to think that our conversation has just begun.

The students join me in the sincerest thank you we can extend.

Appreciately, Tom Roy,
University of MontanaDirector Environmental Studies Program
Missoula, Montana

Montana ranchers offering paying guest bunkhouse hospitality

2004-10-10T17:48:00.000-07:00

Montana ranchers offering paying guest bunkhouse hospitality

October 10, 2004

By Jeff WelschBozeman Chronicle Sports Editor

Rick Jarrett and life-partner Karen Searle call it "metamorphosing to something radically the same."
Fellow cattle ranchers Leo and Lois Cremer warily view it as a way to salvage a lifestyle dating back to the era when their families came to the sweet-grass country in wagons.

With similar skepticism, neighbors Kenny and Donna Laubach see it as a chance to put a favorable face on their culture while learning about other cultures they may never experience.

The three Sweet Grass County families, along with five others scattered among the hayfields and coulees, have undertaken a unique venture they hope will sustain a fading lifestyle for themselves, their children and grandchildren.

They're calling it Montana Bunkhouses, a co-op of eight vast spreads offering paying guests authentic ranching experiences.
· One has the classic cattle drive.
· Another has lambing and raises pheasants.
· Another has calving by day and trout fishing on the Yellowstone River by evening.

Still another combines the total ranching experience on 6,000 semi-arid acres with cabins tucked into remote corners of property overlooking the Boulder River valley.

"Each ranch is so unique," said Searle, who hatched the concept at an agriculture conference in Europe two years ago.

"It's, 'What would guests enjoy most?'"

If all goes as planned, guests eager to escape the rat race and reconnect with the land will call Searle, a.k.a. The Matchmaker, for the working vacation that suits them.

The selling point, one they're still not convinced will actually take root, is this: Montana Bunkhouses is not to be confused with dude ranches, where guests retreat in luxury, have guided fishing/hunting and ride "tail-to-head" on somnambulent horses.

"The intrigue is what we do is real," says Jarrett, a fifth-generation rancher who lives with Searle in a century-old home on 2,500 acres in the shadow of the Crazy Mountains on Duck Creek.

And their goal is, for them, a poignant one:

"Being in a position to pass it on to my kids," Leo Cremer said. "If I screw it up, my kids won't have the opportunity."

Tough times are not new for family ranches.

Even as beef prices reach all-time highs, operating costs have skyrocketed and ranch hands are nearly impossible to round up.

Government regulations seem to change hourly and the reintroduction of the wolf hangs over them, real or imagined, like an ominous cloud.

The seven-year drought has forced innovative and expensive searches for water.

Corporations and wealthy out-of-staters are gobbling up land as ranching families grudgingly sell increasingly valuable property they can't afford to inherit.

Searle was laid off from her job at the Livingston hospital. Lois Cremer and Donna Laubach were forced to seek 9-to-5 jobs in Big Timber to make ends meet.

"You look at the books at the end of the year and you scratch your head," Leo Cremer said. A

dds Kenny Laubach, who owns 3,000 acres with two miles of private access to the Yellowstone: "The banker does, too."

Hope surfaced when Searle traveled to Spain to promote a kids cow camp. A woman there, hearing Searle's story, asked why she hadn't considered a co-op similar to the popular European Farm Holiday model.

When Searle returned, she and Jarrett scribbled the concept on paper, determined to remain true to authenticity and to limit stays to one family or group.

Jarrett and Searle, an affable couple whose steady stream of hearty laughter belies their constant challenges, made a list of fellow ranchers they deemed suited for Montana Bunkhouses.

"We were real careful about who was doing it," Jarrett said. "We wanted a cohesive group."

The Laubachs and Cremers were skeptical, first about bringing the outside world into theirs and then about people paying to help out with ranch chores, wade to their hips in irrigation ditches and be up to their elbows in calf placentas -- possibly in sub-zero weather.

"You could get the wrong guests and say, 'why the heck am I doing this?'" said Laubach, brother-in-law of Montana State men's basketball coach Mick Durham.

Not even assurances from bunkhouse members Terry and Wyoma Terland, who for nine years have charged nearly $2,000 for summer cattle drives, allayed the early doubts.

"You guys will be surprised what people will pay to do," Wyoma Terland insisted. "There's so much romance and spirit. It's a life-altering experience for most people.

" Perspectives began to change when Travel Montana sent Montana Bunkhouses six travel writers, including one from Sunset Magazine who stayed with Jarrett and Searle.

The writer was eager, his wife wasn't. While he spent an entire day working on fencing and irrigation, she went antique shopping.

The next day, buoyed by his experience, he coaxed her into helping with the project.

She stayed all day.

"I never got on the four-wheeler without her after that," Jarrett said. "She loved it. It was an eye-opening experience for her and us. It gave us the confidence to go forward."

A television crew from Taiwan was similarly engrossed. And then came a family from the East and a 12-year-old boy who was on Cremer's heels like the family pet for nearly a week.

They have also had guests from Europe.

"You meet wonderful people and they become friends," Wyoma Terland said. "They don't leave as strangers.

"And we show people back East that we're not all out decimating the land or killing the wolf."

Thus far, business has been slow.

Montana Bunkhouses has a Web site, bought an advertisement and distributed brochures, but as lifelong ranchers treading new ground they're not even sure their pricing is right.

"We're kind of flying blind yet, really," Leo Cremer said.

Their hope, of course, is that the concept flourishes. Other ranchers around Montana have contacted them, but thus far there are fewer clients than bunkhouses.

At this point, at least, the ranchers are beginning to embrace the idea.

"I'm proud of our lifestyle," Donna Laubach said. "I wouldn't mind showing it off."

But the primary reason for this "metamorphosis to something radically the same" is heard through the voice of Jarrett's 8-year-old granddaughter, Jordan, who, along with 5-year-old brother Jess, clearly is at home on the range.

"Papa," she said to Jarrett recently, "I'm going to buy this land from you, just like your dad."

Montana Bunkhouses Working Ranch Vacations LLC

Ten Sweet Grass County ranch families work cooperatively to provide a unique vacation experience. Enjoy the opportunity to meet and get acquainted with authentic Montana ranch families. Montana ranch hospitality at its best. Ranch experiences vary by the season and include everything from riding the ditches with the irrigator to haying and fencing. Lambing and calving in the spring. Bird watching and hiking and photography in every season. Read a book in the shade of the tree next to the babbling brook or have another cup of coffee at the ranch house. See the Charlie Russell sunrise and experience the sunsets. Move cattle to summer pasture or be part of the fall round up. Live the old west ranch experience.

Lodging, meals and ranch activities are included in the working ranch vacation rates. Accommodations may vary from private bunkhouses or guest bedrooms in the ranch house to vacation home rentals. You can even choose to stay in a sheep wagon or a tipi. Ranch vacation rates vary from $150 to $200 per person per day based on availability of seasonal and family rates. Rates for vacation home rentals or a luxuriously furnished bed and breakfast (with or without the option of working ranch activities) vary from $50 to $200 per night. There is a three-day minimum stay for the working ranch vacation.

Contact Karen at Montana Bunkhouses Working Ranch Vacations, LLC, to request more information or to make a reservation with the ranch family most suited to your interests whether they be cattle, sheep, horses, farming, history, hiking, wildlife, fishing or hunting. Don't be confused by all of these options. Just call Karen, she knows what each ranch has to offer and she will help you find the ranch vacation that suits your interests and fits your budget. Email: Karen@montanabunkhouses.com or phone her in the office at 406/222-6101 or at the ranch 406/932-6719.

“The wolf is knocking at my door.”

2004-09-11T21:39:00.000-07:00

“The wolf is knocking at my door.”

The wolf is knocking at my door...says he.
The wolf is knocking at my door ... says she.

That was the first verse.
Now we sing:
The wolf is in the kitchen eating my supper.
...........................................

Just about noon today the phone rang and it was the cowboy (Cort) who stays with the cattle at the grazing permit on Taylor's Fork.
He had been out moving a bunch of cattle and heard an awful racket.
Cattle bellerin.
He went on high to investigate and got there just in time to count 12 wolves.
They had the cattle all bunched up in a corner.
He fired a few warning rounds and the wolves left and the cows seemed ok.
but a closer look turned up a dead calf.
He headed for the closest spot that he could get cell phone coverage.
A three hour ride.

Rick told him to go back and tarp the animal to keep it from the ravens.
And he started making phone calls.
Within a half hour he had the district "wolf guys" headed to cow camp to verify the kill.
They had to drive from Helena and planned to meet Rick near Bozeman
...turns out they had just walked in the door from a trip to Deer Lodge where they were trapping problem wolves.

Saundra caught horses.
I packed the cooler with food.
Rick packed his 270.

More phone calls.
The wolf guy had to call the grizzly bear guy so they could get a helicopter to fly over and locate the grizz with her cub...
the one that most certainly was headed for the dead calf and would not appreciate Rick and his fellow investigators poking around her "dinner".
One of the state investigators had a saddle but no horse.

Saundra caught more horses.
I packed more food.
Rick calmly assessed the situation: Well...we've been lucky up until now.
But today we weren't so lucky.

In less than three hours Rick was out of cell phone range and i have nothing new to report on the wolves.
I'm home holding down the fort.
I called the horse shoer who dropped everything and drove to the ranch.
He just left after shoeing 4 more horses.
In order to keep the cattle safe...it will be a 24/7 effort.
More than one man or one horse will be up to...especially in this heat.

We depend on the mountain grass....to simply bring the cattle home before our 90 days of grazing are up would mean less winter feed here at the home place.
And the question looms....will we even be able to go to the mountains with the cattle next year.
Hard to say.
Hard to say.

And that is the ranch report.
Instead of going from the frying pan to the fire....
We went from the fire to the wolves.

Reconnect With Your Inner Cowboy in Montana

2004-06-01T16:46:00.000-07:00

Reconnect with your inner cowboy in Montana!

Sunset Magazine Article, June 2004

Mountain States & Southwest Editions

By Jeff Phillips, Senior Travel Editor

The sun, barely up, cast long shadows over the 3,000-plus acres of the Crazy Mountain Cattle Company, just west of Big Timber, Montana. Rancher Rick Jarrett and I had headed out early to irrigate a hay field in much the same way his grandfather did when he settled here in 1908.

As we plunged our shovels deep into the banks of an irrigation ditch, clear, cold water spilled into the field of alfalfa that brushed our rubber-booted legs. Jarrett paused to reflect on the realities of modern ranching: "this is what cattle ranching in this part of Montana is all about.....I'm as much of a hay farmer as a cattle rancher. Hay is money in the bank. It keeps our cattle and us going through the winter."

That is, it helps. These days beef alone does not pay the bills. Which is why Jarrett, his wife, Karen Searle, and nine neighboring longtime ranchers started Montana Bunkhouses Working Ranch Vacations last year.

"Our co-op is not a dude ranch, and it's not for everyone," Searle says over a breakfast of eggs, elk sausage, and apple strudel French toast. "It's for families that want to experience first-hand what we feel is a romantic way of life that's rapidly vanishing from the West. Our hope is that guests will want to experience what real ranching is all about."

Visits aren't limited to just a single ranch. One morning my wife, Jill, went birding at a neighboring ranch while I fly-fished a private stretch of river. We met for a late-afternoon horseback ride, devoured a hearty dinner with Searle and Jarrett, then tumbled, deliciously tired, into bed.

After all, I needed to be up early. I would be saddling up at dawn with Jarrett to do the chores that keep a working ranch working.

"Working the range near Yellowstone."
The 10 ranches of Montana Bunkhouses Working Ranch Vacations are all in Sweet Grass County, just off I-90 near Big Timber, Montana. A vacation here can easily be combined with a visit to Yellowstone National Park (about 90 miles south) and an exploration of Lewis and Clark National Historic Trail. The nearest airports are in Bozeman (61 miles west) and Billigns (81 miles east.)

Activities: Visits are custom-tailored to match guest's interests with activities at any of the member ranches. For example, you can help with the lambing in the spring, try summer haying, or join a fall cattle roundup--or you can just go horseback riding every day.

Accommodations: Bunkhouse ranchers limit guests to one family or small group at a time on each ranch. Lodgings range from comfortable private cottages and upgraded bunkhouses to ranch-house guest bedrooms, tepees, or even a sheepherder's wagon. There are also vacation-home rentals.

Cost: From $200 per adult per night (ask about family rates), including lodging, meals and activities; three-night minimum stay (reservations required).

Contact: www.montanaworkingranches.com or karen@montanabunkhouses.com

Woman’s Best Friend

2004-02-29T17:10:00.000-08:00

Woman’s Best Friend
Dedicated to Maggie, the Horse with a Huge Heart
By: Saundra Searle, age 15

It has been said that dogs are man’s best friend, but what about the friend of a woman? It has always been understood that there is a special connection between horses and woman. Stories are told about the unconditional love and trust shared between a woman and her horse. Numerous quotes in the Bible and elsewhere mention the companionship and compatibility between a horse and its female friends.
I feel privileged to say that I have this same connection. I am lucky enough to be loved and trusted by many of these majestic animals. Unlike myself, who has always had a connection with horses, my sister Lisa spent the first 17 years of her life pushing them away. She never had an interest or bond with them…not until Maggie came along.
When we first met Maggie she was a waif, skin and bones, and frightened of life. Not only had she been starved and pushed around by the other horses, she was pretty badly abused too. Normally all of this would have killed the spirit in such an animal… not Maggie. She still had a fire burning inside her and a spark in her eye. It was this flame that drew us to her, this courage that gave us hope. We brought her home and gave her promise of new life.
As time passed, we watched her grow both mentally and physically. Her skeleton filled out with muscle; her eyes became round and expressive. And she developed a personality that few could resist. We all loved her.
Although Lisa had gone off to college, Maggie was her claim on the ranch. She drew Lisa back during the summer, holidays and long weekends.
The once scraggily three year old filly matured into a beautiful mare under our care. When she arched her neck, lifted her tail, and galloped across the pasture, it was hard to not get a lump in your throat. She looked so beautiful and she was in high spirits. Maggie loved life on the ranch.
Saturday, February 28, Maggie was rushed to the vet’s. Mom had found her down in a draw, her left front leg swollen up three times the size of her right. Wondering how she would ever get Maggie up the ridge let alone into the trailer, Mom slowly picked out a trail for Maggie to follow and headed her toward home. That little horse showed true bravery and trust, limping up the hill, left leg extended in from on her, too inflamed and too sore to touch the ground. Putting all her energy into each step, Maggie made it slowly in to the trailer.
On inspection the horse doctor found a puncture wound driving two and one-half inches just above the hoof line. Worried about complications, he started IV antibiotics and kept her overnight for observation. We all said our prayers and waited to hear from him. No one had a good feeling about how things would work out but her courage gave us hope.
Sunday night, February 29th, there was a phone call from Kirk. We had won the battle, her foot looked much better. But we had lost the war. Maggie had died from blood poisoning; the infection had spread to her brain and killed her.

Maggie was never actually my horse, but I had fallen in love with her, as did everyone who rode her. Jumping logs in the underbrush, moving cows in the mountains, or galloping home from a run around the barrels at the rodeo; Maggie put her heart into everything she did.
Maggie was Lisa’s horse and the woman’s best friend. No one who knew her will ever forget that little sorrel mare, with her big sparkling eyes and her life-sized forgiving heart. It is hard to say goodbye to a friend but fortunately her memory lives on.

Rascal-dog’s Adventure

2004-01-15T00:00:00.000-08:00

Rascal-dog’s Adventure

Rascal had an adventure today.
Rick thought he might have to save his life.
But he was a coward.

Rascal has spent the fall and early winter chasing four or five Swainson Hawks. They play team tag and mock him…flying just close enough that each time he gives a little jump into the sky thinking he will catch one as it swoops by. Then that one soars away as the next one dives in from another direction.

Long about 3:30 this January afternoon when Rick was heading down to the sheep shed to carpenter…he saw something out in the plowed field. Looked like a good sized dog or something big moving around. He drove right out there to inspect, drove within 30 yards…close, real close and just stayed there and watched. It was an eagle--A Golden Eagle--just sitting there on the ground.

Well…Rascal looks over and sees this eagle on the ground and he thinks…wow…this is my lucky day! He tears in after the eagle that by this time has begun to flap his wings and hop.

Rick begins to ponder…wondering what is going to happen. Will the dog be killed…or will he kill? What is going to happen? The eagle continued to flap and hop. As Rick put it…the eagle had eaten too much…he was overloaded…listing…needed to dump one tank!

When an eagle flies, they go downhill…so this eagle was trying to get some altitude and hopped toward the edge of the field with Rascal chasing him…right on his tail. Then the eagle stopped, turned around and tried to fly. He was airborne for maybe 40 or 50 yards. So low that it looked like he was going to bonk right into the wheel line but in the end, went under the pipe. That flight wore him out and he stopped.

Rascal ran right up to the eagle. No more than two or three feet apart. Just looking at each other, nose to nose. Pretty soon, Rascal turned and walked back over to the pickup. He went about his own business, leaving the eagle alone.

I wondered if the eagle was sick and Rick said no. Just full. Real full. Ranchers have seen that before where the eagle will try to get on a hump … maybe walk clear across the field to get up to the upper end…and then fly away just like nothing ever happened.

Rascal had an adventure today.
Rick thought he might have to save his life.
But Rascal was a (smart) coward.

Rancher praises community for response to fire

2003-12-11T18:02:00.000-08:00

Billingsgazette.com
Story available at http://www.billingsgazette.net/articles/2006/09/08/news/state/26-praise.txt
Published on Friday, September 08, 2006.Last modified on 9/8/2006 at 1:10 am

Rancher praises community for response to fire
By DONNA HEALY Of The Gazette Staff

For Terry and Wyoma Terland, fourth-generation ranchers along Bridger Creek, doing the math can be daunting.

The Terlands estimate the Derby Mountain fire consumed 95 percent of their 11,000-acre ranch. About 40 miles of fence needs to be replaced at an estimated cost of $5,000 to $10,000 a mile.

Although their home, barn and corrals were saved, seven calves and one cow are confirmed dead. Up to 15 more may have to be put down because of injuries from the blaze.

But it was the overwhelming response from the community that Wyoma Terland wanted to talk about Thursday morning.

"We're here because of the heart and soul of this community," she said in a phone interview. Already, offers have come in - offers of temporary pasture, of hay, of individuals willing to help string fence.

A group of four volunteers showed up Thursday morning to help put up fence on some of the remaining 500 acres of unburned pasture. The crew included friends who had gone on trail rides at the Range Riders Ranch in past years. In addition to offering trail rides and a cattle drive on their working ranch, Wyoma Terland leads a ministry for area youths combining horsemanship and religious teachings.

"My repeat customers, they understand and they're friends. They're just going to dive in and help," she said. She also expects church groups to bring out small groups of volunteers to help with fencing.

"If we had to fence it ourselves, it would take years," Terland said. "I have faith in God that he'll see us through."

When the Terlands got the evacuation alert Aug. 29, they were having a supper party for their daughter, who was visiting from Virginia. Her husband was already fighting the fire with other volunteer firefighters. As she started figuring out how she could immediately haul out 20 horses, friends arrived with three additional horse trailers. When Reed Point was put on evacuation alert, and the horses needed to be moved a second time, more trailers materialized to take the horses to a friend's place north of Big Timber. That family ended up with 30 head of horses from three different places, Wyoma Terland said.

As she was making one trip to Reed Point to haul horses, she saw a huge plume of smoke where their ranch house sits, about two miles off Interstate 90. She figured there was a pretty good chance they had lost their home.

She offered high praise for the volunteer firefighters from Big Timber, Reed Point and Melville.

"Those are the best firemen in the whole world and I can prove it," she said. "They saved homes that shouldn't have been saved."

Although the fire continues to wreak havoc, area residents have already begun to respond to the needs to the county's agricultural community.

Marc King, the Sweet Grass County Extension agent, has begun matching names of ranchers who need assistance with people who have hay, trucks to transport hay or fencing supplies. A Bozeman man was among the first to call, with an offer to pay $1,000 to truck donated hay. So far, the list includes the names of four individuals willing to donate hay and two offers of temporary pasture. King is also willing to coordinate lists of people willing to donate supplies, such as steel posts, wire and staples. A volunteer with Sweet Grass County disaster and emergency services will help coordinate volunteer work crews to do fencing.

To help area ranchers, homeowners and volunteer firefighters who have suffered property damage, the Big Timber Ministerial Association plans a concert fundraiser Oct. 1 at the Big Timber Civic Center. The group will raise money to provide gift cards for gas or credit vouchers for fuel costs.

Churches are also starting to put together plans to bring in mission teams to rebuild fence or to organize volunteer teams from area churches. Pastor Bryan Baker at the Evangelical Church in Big Timber has volunteered to help match up teams from area churches with ranchers who need help with fencing.

Family thankful despite Derby fire devastation

2003-11-23T19:12:00.000-08:00

Family thankful despite Derby fire devastation
By LINDA HALSTEAD-ACHARYA
Of The Gazette Staff

Clarice and Corky Hedrick have had a rough year. First Corky suffered a heart attack. Then their son was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Finally, the Derby Mountain fire scorched all but 40 acres of their 5,000-acre ranch situated high atop the Bridger Creek drainage.

"We were really bitter at first," Clarice said this week. "But so many people came in here to help us. We're lucky. No one died and we're all OK."

There's no doubt the Derby Mountain fire will be the topic of conversation when the Hedricks gather at the table this Thanksgiving holiday. The couple is headed to Nebraska to spend the holiday with family. Clarice made sure to pack her album of photos taken during the height of the firestorm. And of course she's got tales to tell about the dramatic events.

The Hedricks' story begins on Aug. 22, the day the fire broke out. Situated just miles from its ignition point, Clarice said they were the first to report it. Little did they know that the fire would sweep across their place - and within 15 feet of their house - four times in the next eight days.

"We were in the eye of the fire," Clarice said. "The way I know that, I heard a meteorologist say that over the scanner."

Since the Hedricks were first in the line of fire, their place served as a magnet for the first wave of firefighters. Crews and trucks from Big Timber, Absarokee, Columbus, Reed Point, Park City and Red Lodge converged in their barnyard. Many camped there for four days as the fire made runs from nearly every direction.

"We never once thought it was going to hurt us, but we never knew if it was going to stop coming, either," Corky said.

"We can't say enough about the local firefighters," Clarice said. "They saved our necks."

In the wee hours of Aug. 30, the fire made its first charge for the Hendricks' place. Around 3 a.m. family and friends helped load horses and squealing pigs into trailers. Everyone who could drive headed off with a rig. That included the Hedricks' underage grandson. As the caravan fled the flames, a law officer stopped the teen at the wheel of the two-ton truck. But, when someone vouched that the youth had plenty of experience, "that cop turned around and said 'good luck' and let him go," Clarice said, smiling.

By morning, the Hedricks were told the fire had passed. They returned to find their home still standing but the fire threatening to make another run. That afternoon, the flames charged the house three times.

"That last time was the time it almost curled our hair," Clarice said. "But one fireman told me, 'Your land may burn, but your house won't. We won't let it.'"

Firefighters foamed the house twice. As the flames stormed back - Clarice estimates the orange tongues flared 150 feet into the sky - a plane appeared low on the horizon.

"If a plane hadn't come over and dropped retardant on us, we wouldn't have made it," she said. "We were in the yard and it came so low we could see the helmet of the guy dropping retardant."

In the end, the house was spared, as were the houses of their two daughters, Georgi Hamel and Ronis Yanzick. The Hamels live only a mile from the Hedricks. The Yanzicks live down along the Stillwater River, where the fire charred two dozen homes.

Although their house still stands, the Hedricks, who run a summer "dude" camp and a winter hunting camp, lost both. They also lost outbuildings, thousands of acres of pasture and 42 miles of fence.

"It's tough, because we'll have no income for a while," Clarice said. "In our lifetime, we'll never see the scenery again and that's what we sell - scenery. But we'll make it."

The Hedricks also lost hillside upon hillside of evergreen trees. For years, Clarice said, they invited the Absarokee 4-H and Future Farmers of America to cut Christmas trees to sell for their annual fundraisers.

"And it'll be the first time in 42 years we won't be giving trees to the churches in Absarokee," she said.

Clarice, however, is perhaps most heartbroken over the loss of their horses. They survived the fire - the horses knew enough to bunch up where the fire had already burned, she said - but with no pasture, the couple was forced to sell all but 17 of their string of 90.

"I pulled the curtains and turned on the TV that day," she said. "I didn't want to see them leave."

Today, scorched ridges ring the Hedricks' house. Some of the hayfields have begun to take on the sheen of new growth, but the Hedricks figure the sagebrush-covered acres will remain ashen for a decade.

"It's the first time in all our married life we've been in the black, so to say," Clarice said with a chuckle. "There are about 14 different colors of black."

The Hedricks can't ignore the losses that have changed their lives and robbed them of their livelihood. Yet they feel blessed by the overwhelming support that has come their way.

"We're not alone," Clarice said. "This has brought people closer together."

The Big Timber Ministries gave them a card for $100 in gas and neighbors and friends have donated hay - a semitrailer full came from a lady who lives on the Hi-Line.

"We do not have a clue who she is," Clarice said.

And the help keeps coming. Just a few weeks back, a group of Helena ministers showed up to build fence.

Calls of concern from across the country have also buoyed the couple

"It's a good feeling," Clarice said. "They care."

Nearly three months after the devastation, Thanksgiving has taken on new meaning. Corky is doing well and, following surgery, their son's brain tumor seems to have disappeared. As for the Derby Mountain fire, the Hedricks plan on giving extra thanks for the blessings that have come from the ashes.

"When there are three homes involved in one family - we've got a lot to be thankful for," Clarice said. "That man upstairs took care of us, too. Corky and Josh's health is good. What more could you ask?"