By Sherry Danekas

“Do yourself a favor.
Overlook at least two things today.
~M.J. Ryan~


Complain, complain and more complaining! It seems like that’s all I’ve done since 2011 rolled around: the weather has been a perpetual pain in the butt. Here it is only the beginning of March, and it feels like the last two months have gone on forever. There is something about having to continually slip and slide in the mud to do any chore that just begins to wear on the soul, not to mention my old bones.

Then, there is nothing more toxic than when you combine the mud with a dark, moonless night. You see, my job at night is to check on the cows that are close to calving. Although we move them up to closer pastures, having to traverse through one corral in the dead of night, where knee high mud is the norm, and through two pasture gates that resemble small lakes makes checking cows an extreme sport.

The corral has these tire ruts going through it from the Ranger ATV, and they’re just dark holes waiting to trap you. Wading into the lakes surrounding the gates makes one wonder just how deep it might get before you can reach the gate to hang on for safety and catch your breath in order to scale the rest of the lake and get out into the pasture. Just to make it more interesting, the spotlight I carry is fairly large. Let’s just say I can see things a mile away with this light. While that’s a good thing, its weight and size just add to your handicap against the mud. Add a sorting stick to that list and you get the picture.

Last week I had one evening that became the nightmare you always hope to avoid. We had two cows waiting to calve. One of the cows calved about nine p.m., too late to get her and her calf moved out to the larger pasture. The next cow (we won’t mention her name, although I have several unmentionable tags for her as she is really the only cow we own that will come for you when she calves), always has somewhat of a threatening presence, and had decided that she was claiming the calf that was born earlier. I think she was hoping to avoid spitting out her own calf that already had two feet sticking out of her.

As I tried to get her off the calf that she was trying to claim, and not get myself taken down by either of the mothers who at this point were both pretty out of control about the whole situation, I learned just how fast you can’t move in muck boots that are mired deep in ankle deep mud. I became something like one of those bobble head toys: the only thing really moving was my head, my light was getting heavier by the minute, and my sorting stick was the only thing keeping that darn cow at bay. Time to call in the troops. I managed to pull my cell phone out of my back pocket and call Mercedes at her house to come to the rescue. Thankfully she’s close and I can swing a mean sorting stick. Together we were able to cut that cow off and head her into another small pasture, where she immediately laid down and spit out a beautiful heifer calf.

After all was said and done, all I kept thinking was that it really shouldn’t be this hard. And it wouldn’t have been if it hadn’t been for that damn mud.

Putting out the current issue that you’re holding was a cake walk compared to everything else. This is an issue you won’t want to put down. We all know that our families most often play a very important role in keeping the ranch running, and we’re going to introduce you to a California family that has been successfully farming and ranching for generations. It’s an article that is impressive and will remind you just how important the family business is to our industry. There is a new pregnancy test for cattle on the scene that I think you’ll find very interesting. Crossbred, hybrid, composite terms have at times been confusing. I’ve had folks give me many varying definitions, and this article sorts it all out and breaks it down.

Fold up your newspaper, fill your coffee cup and spend just an extra 30 minutes before heading out to chores this morning to scan everything this March issue has to offer. Fold the corners of those articles that you’ll read tonight when the day’s work is done - it’ll be waiting for you. I don’t think there’s a trail in my immediate future that doesn’t include my muck boots, so I best suck it up and quit the complaining and remember: all this water and mud means a good grass year ahead…..Happy Trails.