The Laws of Ranching

Busy Busy week... 

We have preg checked (exactly what it sounds like folks) cows and we have shipped our calves off to their new destinations. 

 Our little set up to document and mark the ladies

 The 2 on the cow means she will deliver in February 

(seriously look at the poop spilling out like pudding.....yuck...and yet I wouldn't say no to some pudding right now) 

See that beaut of a man on our cow chute....mmm what a sight... 

Also from where I took this picture to a little further past Zeke is where for 10 hours or so I ran back and forth to get the following results:

Can you believe that? 7 miles!! Seriously I need to find a way to market ranch work as a workout and I would be rich!!

OK so earlier in the week I had a tough lesson in Ranch Laws.

What is Ranch Law? They are a series of rules that I have learned must be followed while living on a ranch--Kinda like laws of physics. I'll focus on a few today.

Zeke asked for a ride out to some tractor in some field (I'm super specific I know). I really had no choice but to oblige right? 
Rule 1 Always wear clothes as if you are going to put in some work...failure to do will result in ruining clothes, even if your husband says "you're not going to do anything, you should be fine in what you have on." See the word SHOULD... always plan as if you AREN'T going to be fine. Why? Let me be the example... I wore my nice jeans and coat on the 4 wheeler...on the way I was informed I'd have to close a wire gate (barb wire) and I there was a plethora of mud we drove through. 

I dropped Zeke off and he informed me "if you put it in 4 wheel drive you SHOULD make it through." 

 These are my fur babies Roo and Ollie

 This is me protecting my denim baby 

I did make it through with minor mud on myself and thought I'd outsmarted the ranch by going the longer way--even if that meant moving a super heavy & awkward gate...I was avoiding the wire (once again--barbed wire) fence and all was well. Right?

WRONG

Zeke called saying I needed to come back and get him because the tractor was out of diesel.... why didn't I change then? Someone answer me that. 

We picked up diesel then rode back out to the tractor hitting every deep pivot track there was, splattering diesel all over my clothes and going back through the wire gate which I would have to come through with the empty diesel cans and the mud pit. My clothes were done for....I knew it.

So my ride back proceeded with learning some more new rules:

Rule 2 Be creative to get the job done. As evidence by the following: 

 Bumpy road, unsecured bouncy diesel cans, clothes were shot anyway so had to

it:

Riding like this for a couple of miles, this is why we should stretch everyday...

Then the wire gate ugh......It was the hardest to open, so closing was going to be ridiculous...I am 5'2 I couldn't even reach the top well enough to push with all my strength to get to loop anywhere near the post....after a few choice words and stating "I have a college degree, I can do this." I had a crazy idea...

 subjecting my jeans through further torture, I used my strongest assets...legs and thighs. I scaled the gate and pulled and struggled but I closed the darn thing!! 

because RULE 3 All gates must be closed unless otherwise specified.

...I'll let you know when and if my jeans ever stop smelling like diesel.

City Life 2 Ranch Wife...Sorting

Another possible option for a blog name...My friends and family are so talented to think of names... 

So we are getting ready to ship. Very exiting and very stressful culmination of all your hard work for the year. 


Blog Readers: Pssssttt Andi...

Andi: Yes?  

Blog Readers: 

When you say "ship"....

Andi: Oh right right, you being a greenhorn (newbie) and me being soOoOoOo experienced ::drenched with sarcasm:: needs some "splainin" 

Before my post for the day, I would like to make it real for all of you.I am writing this post while Junebug (my kiddo) is watching Curious George A Very Monkey Christmas on the other monitor. Now why is this pertinent to this post?.... It isn't, I just realize I have been watching this movie for an entire year and now it has come back into "season." Dear goodness a whole year of Christmas Monkey!!! 


Okay Okay... 

Shipping: The day we ship our calves off to the buyers, who then keep them in a feed lot until they go to meat heaven. 

I know my explanations are pretty awesome...this is how it is processed in my head after Zeke has explained it for the 100th time. Props to the patient man I married but in reality he did this to himself right?  

So before moving out to a ranch there were a lot and I mean a lot of things I thought I knew which made no sense but made perfect sense to me. Part of this is growing up in NY and the other part is since it had nothing to do with the life I was living I didn't need to think too much on it. I am a girl who knew stuff grew on farms and lived on ranches but my food came from the grocery store...

So here is this embarrassing revelation but I am not the only one every time I go home to New York other people have this revelation as well:

This ladies and gents is a Holstein cow.... most symbolically thought of when you think of milk and the ever sacred Chick-fil-a. What you may not know or at least I tell myself I wasn't the only one who thought this, is that this is not a cow consumed for meat (well some chefs are experimenting with Holsteins meat and look to be doing some fabulous things but that is a different topic). If you already knew this...good for you "you're very smart now shuddup" (Princess Bride). If you did not, join the club we've got jackets. Like dogs, horses, and a number of other animals there are different breeds and some are way better then others for certain outcomes. You've probably heard of Kobe Beef--very fancy, yummy, and pricey. Kobe Beef is made from Wagyu (translates to Japanese Cow) breeds. There are plenty of breeds for meat consumption, we have Black Angus on the ranch so they are mostly all black and to me hard to tell apart unless they have an extremely distinguishing mark on them. 

Am I right? 

Zeke and his Uncle can tell these things apart as if they were actual people....crazy. Love for what you do makes you do crazy things...

So why am I going through all this? Because before we ship we have to sort. 

Sort: breaking up the calves or cows into categories (while simultaneously fearing I'll be trampled or pretending to be in color guard ) 

 If  I am given one of these ^ I automatically think I am this:

So last week I was asked for my irreplaceable (at this point you should know where sarcasm is inserted....it's in  Bold Italics from now on) assistance in sorting the heifers from the steers. 

Heifers: girl calves

Steers: boy calves without their...how do I say this? Huevos or manhood (which makes them different from Bulls who do have their manhood) 

Now my job was just to wait in back and push (move) the calves up to the men that were sorting. This year we started tagging: numbers to distinguish each calf

with tags on the right side for steers and tags on the left for heifers (which works except when you're looking at them and it's like the opposite). The men still double check with a quick ducking of their heads as the calf run by and one man yells to the other whether the calf goes "in" or "by" and such is sorting. 

So I stand in the back pushing up the calves and they jump and startle and kick and surge in my directions and I quickly try and do the math:

400-700 lbs. x 20-30 calves= 

"bahhh I suck at math and always have to use a calculator and I just know I'd be sorry so quick hop up on a fence but wait I have to sprint in sloshy mud/poop and also actually scale a fence or gate" 

Makes for some fun entertainment if you're not me. This past week was especially entertaining when one of the steers (that's right I sorted this one) kicked and I jumped back as to keep my limbs intact but it instead kicked a clot of something round and hard straight into my face....now it hurt like a rock but stunk like a hard piece of mud-poo and in that moment I really really hoped it was a rock and not mud-poo and then I laughed and couldn't believe I rather a rock hit my chin and teeth than mud-poo. 

But the stench that tattooed my skin the rest of the afternoon made it abundantly clear it was mud-poo...and every time I took a wiff of my mud-poo chin I thought back to how if I was on Long Island and could be walking to get pizza or a knish and hot dog or a bagel only to be snapped back into reality by calves looking straight at me instead of the complete opposite way with a look saying "we could totally take this chick on--trample her and break the gate...just for fun." 

But for reals all they needed to do was fling some more mud-poo and I'd peace out... 

Calves 1, Andi: 0

City Slicker to Cow Tipper

This was actually one of the title options for this blog, but I didn't want to get called a "faker" considering I'm not technically from "the city." I am from Long Island, New York, about a 30-40 minute commute to Penn Station. Born and raised in suburbia until I moved out to Idaho. 

What am I doing in Idaho? This is the number 1 question I get when someone has asked where I am from--also New Yorkers are always looking for a way to make it known they are from New York into a new conversation. So here's the long answer: After High School, I came out to college and got my degree in Social Work (also the nickname Andi), I worked for a Child Advocacy Center for about 4 months before I met my handsome cowboy-- I should explain here that at the time I met him I didn't know Zeke was going to be a cowboy. He was going to school and I legitimately thought I was dating and then marrying a soon to be pharmacist but plans change and people grow and almost 7 years later we are living in the middle of no where on a ranch with some cows of our own. We also have a 2.5 year old who might love this ranch more than his dad, if that is possible, and keeps us pretty entertained. 

Why did I start this blog? Um I've heard it all once people hear I am A) a New Yorker and B) I live in isolation on a ranch:

 Green Acres

&

Pioneer Woman aka Ree Drummond

This first was a hysterical show I sometimes caught bits and pieces of on Nick at Night and didn't fully understand--but still sang the song really really loud when it came on and the second well she is just the best. DON'T argue and don't fight it... I cannot express how cool she is and if I was anything like her this blog would not need to exist. 

My blog is about me learning literally everything from scratch: 

~the LINGO (cow/ranch/farm/Idaho/toddler)

~the cooking (I knew how to cook before but this is different and you'll soon learn why)

~the shopping (10% fun, 90% intense essential to survive shopping)
~ the ranch work (Social Work prepared me to wear many 'hats'-- up here I can go for a hired hand at any given hour)

~living in a small town where everyone knows each other & likes each other for the most part
~the solitude (I sometimes feel like Superman in my fortress of Idaho winters)

~how to not lose my NY identity (I still have a NY # and you'll have to pry it from my dead fingers!!) 

~Et cetera

When I've shared experiences with family and friends all over the world I get laughs and interest in my life out here and what Zeke does, so I decided to share my learning experience online. I am not perfect, my life is a series of Pinterest/Pioneer Woman fails and constant introductions to Murphy's Law sprinkled with laughter, love, some questioning,and growth. 

I hope you enjoy, learn, and laugh about it with me!!!

PS- Now that I've been around my fair share of cows, I have absolutely no idea who can/wants to tip a cow...They are huge and the little ones run away and are also not little!! 

A view of the Ranch