Padlock Ranch Report

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

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!

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

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.

“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

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

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.