At the Ranch - The Idaho Rancher's Wife

More Than a Kid Horse

June 23, 2026 by Allison Leave a Comment

These old ranch horses might not be worth much on paper—but I wouldn’t trade them for anything.

Our kids have put in the miles on their horses these last few months, jumping in to work with the crew almost like they were grown cowboys and cowgirls. In a way that can only make a ranch momma’s heart swell, they have put in the long days right by our side, coming home hot, tired, and dusty.

This could be a note about how proud I am of them, and don’t get me wrong, I am. But I’m also grateful for those four-legged partners that have carried them across the range all those long days. Looking back, I can see countless times those kid horses earned their keep in ways that had nothing to do with getting the actual work done.

Having a determined child who was not about to wait to enter the branding pen meant that we had to have a horse that was ready, willing, and able to take care of him in any situation. We needed to put him on a mount we knew we could turn our backs on and everything would turn out okay, every time. It wasn’t until midway through the season that I realized we had chosen just the right mare for the job.

On this particular branding day, we were short-handed, battling the wind, and had already tallied half a dozen days out on the range working. My boy was eager to swing into the saddle and start roping. Following his dad, he scooped up heels left and right as they teamed up to bring in the calves. It was almost like he couldn’t miss.

As every kid does, he wanted to “do it himself,” meaning he wanted to heel a calf and drag it from the herd to the fire all on his own. After finding a calf paired up, he threw his shot, managed a catch, and stacked his dallies only to learn he had caught the calf by just one foot. Startled by the rope, the calf started running around, ducking right behind his horse.

It wasn’t the first time this had happened in the branding pen that day, but it was the first time it had happened to him, and he wasn’t sure what to do. Without even being told, that mare simultaneously did two things to take care of the situation. First, she tucked her tail under faster than you could blink to keep from getting “rim fired.” At nearly the same time, she spun around to keep the calf in front of her, avoiding the kind of tangled wreck that can happen in a hurry.

I was a little amazed that this simple ranch horse had it in her to navigate what could have been a really tricky situation. We knew she would take care of our boy while roping—trailing the calf right, stopping when he went to dally, and dragging it to the fire—but we didn’t realize she was ready to keep him square in the saddle in just about any circumstance.

It isn’t only in the branding pen that I have seen these kid horses step up to take care of my kids. With all of the spring and summer turnouts and cattle drives, even our littlest is game to come along and ride. It’s exciting that even at seven years old he wants to brave a long, dusty day on horseback, but it is also worrisome. I’m always torn between the help I need to give and the responsibility I have as a momma to keep them safe.

When the kids are riding along with me, I work hard to take the best route for them, keep them close, and avoid leaving them behind if I can help it. Every once in a while I have to gather in a stray pair or bring up a pocket of cows to the herd. Usually they trail along together and everything turns out great.

But lately my independent child has decided he wants to be the one to go after the stray animals. Without a word, he will spur up his horse, duck into the trees, and be gone before I know it. Then, not long after, he will pop back out trailing the cattle he went in after. I used to worry in those moments, but I’ve learned that trusty steed has things under control. Now, instead of fretting that everything is okay, I’m full of pride when I see what my little cowboy can do.

These old ranch horses might not be worth much on paper—they aren’t fancy bred, haven’t won any awards, and probably wouldn’t catch anyone’s eye. But I wouldn’t trade them for anything. Their value isn’t measured in dollars. It’s measured in confidence, independence, and peace of mind.

They are the horses that teach kids how to work, how to solve problems, and how to handle responsibility. They are the horses that bring them home safe after a long day, forgive their mistakes, and quietly take care of them when Mom and Dad can’t be right beside them. Around here, those old kid horses have carried far more than calves and cowboys across the range. They’ve carried my greatest treasures, and that’s worth more than anything money can buy

All Bluff or All Fight

June 12, 2026 by Allison Leave a Comment

Some cows just throw dirt and make a lot of noise. Others mean every bit of it.

Having spent my whole life around cows, it takes a lot for one to make me nervous. I’ve seen my share of cows that have a big bluff, but little fight. They throw some dirt, put their head up in the air, and beller, but that’s all they do. This spring however, I’ve had more than enough opportunities to learn the line between all bluff and all fight.

Let’s back up for context. My husband and I had an opportunity fall in our collective lap that allowed us to buy a few cows of our own. With the busy spring work, I knew the feeding, checking, and tagging would likely fall on my chore list, something I was actually excited about. I figured the kids could pile on the 4-wheeler with me so we could trail through the cows, count and tag the newborns, then put a bale in the feeder each day.

It was all a pretty simple plan. Which should have been my first warning.

I learned very quickly that these cows had what I can only describe in a positive way as strong mothering instincts. Red Angus are known for their maternal traits. Some of them are apparently overachievers, a fact I learned firsthand as I sat holding a calf while its mother came sprinting at me, bellowing for the whole herd to hear.

I’ll admit the first few times those momma cows got loud and in my face, my heart thumped a few extra beats. Regardless of the adrenaline surge, I got my work done quickly and unscathed. I might have even patted myself on the back on a few of the rowdier, nose-to-nose cows. And the silver lining, those moments helped me form a very informed opinion of which cows were worth keeping and which were definitely on the cull list.

With a handful of calves on the ground, we began loading them up and taking them to summer pasture, a chance to see a whole new side of them. A side I didn’t like at all.

More than once we had to take a deep breath and regroup when the handful of pairs we were bringing into the corral scattered like chickens with a fox in the coop. As the weeks wore on, we had to change tactics just to get the cows in the corral and still live to tell about it.

The first of our ornery cows was #41. We knew from day one she was full of more than bluff. Her calf had slipped through the wire fence, a blessing in disguise. I opted to tag the calf first before pushing it through, and I was glad I did because the fence was the only thing standing between me and a very unpleasant introduction.

When it was her turn to be sorted, #41 ducked and dodged us more times than I could count. And then she got mad, a moment I distinctly remember because she turned straight for my son on his motorbike with every intention of causing damage. My momma bear instincts kicked in and all rational decision-making left the building. Let’s just say we both won that fight—she didn’t end up in the corral, but I got in enough good licks to feel vindicated. The 4-wheeler may tell the story differently.

#41 must have sensed we meant business when we showed up on horseback with ropes in hand, because she trotted right into the corral without a fuss. We thought maybe we had turned the corner. Turns out she was just lulling us into a false sense of security, because when it came time to load her in the trailer she reminded us of her deep-seated hatred for us. After just a few steps into the pen, that darn cow threw her head in the air and had us hopping the fence like a jackrabbit with a pack of cow dogs on it.

Obviously we lived to tell the tale—a tale highlighted by the fact that bluff was a five-letter word that five-letter cow didn’t know.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t even the worst of them. A week later we went to move another group of cows, and had an encounter with one that was lucky we still turned right to pasture instead of left to the butcher shop. I had my suspicions early on about #34, but had excused her high-headed chase after a long haul from Montana and a trip through the chute to be branded. She was loud and snorty tagging her calf, but not the worst of the bunch.

#34 was on my keep-an-eye-on-her list, but thirty seconds into the day she graduated to the don’t-turn-your-back-on-her list. She walked into the corral pleasant as could be, then promptly turned to run back out the gate, smashing the motorbike that attempted to block her way in the process. Since we don’t back down from a fight, we “convinced” her back into the corral where the fight continued. It might have taken an hour to get her loaded, perched on the fence the whole time, but we won in the end. I’m still not convinced the butcher shop wasn’t the better option.

The following day we had a few of the last heifers to run through the chute, and they too thought we’d enjoy scaling the fence. I don’t know if there was a sign on our backs that said “Try me!” or what, but apparently word had spread through the herd. In a small moment of fatigue, I might have shouted, “I’m so tired of being chased at!”

There are only a few left to turn out, and my hopes are high that the worst is over. If nothing else after a spring spent climbing fences, dodging charging cows, and wondering if there was a bounty on my head, I’ve come to a conclusion: some cows are all bluff, some cows are all fight, and fences exist for a reason.

Back at the Ranch: Lookout Livestock Branding Day

April 20, 2026 by admin Leave a Comment

Most branding days we’re up early and headed out for a long drive to wherever the cows are running on the desert range. But once a year, we get to stay a little closer to home—saddling up and heading straight out the gate for Lookout Livestock branding day.

This herd is relatively new to us. About seven years ago, a neighbor approached us about buying him out, and knowing opportunities like that don’t come around often, we jumped at the chance to expand right here close to home. We decided to keep things separate from our other herd, forming a new operation with its own name and brand.

Even though we’ve only been running these cows a few short years, it didn’t take long for things to fall into place, including the annual branding. We have great help, great food, which lends to a great time!

Reservations and Runaway Cows

February 18, 2026 by Allison

Ranch romance doesn’t always look like candlelight.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

We had Valentine’s plans…

But the cows broke through!

Boots polished, hair in place,

Dressed up for our night,

Reservations waiting

Under the city lights.

But then we saw them—

Or maybe we didn’t,

A herd of wild backsides

Slipping out of sight.

Nothing says romance

Like a runaway cow chase,

Down the winding highway,

Our hearts racing to match the pace.

Flying out of the pickup

Before it came to a stop,

I’m fairly certain

The Rancher thought I was hot.

Finally to dinner,

Out on the town,

With a hint of manure

Dusting my cowgirl gown.

Maybe this is romance,

Rough, wild, and true—

A night just for us,

Until the cows break through.

It was cloudy and starting to get dark—no surprise we were running a little later than we’d hoped for our Valentine’s night. It didn’t take long to see the cows had broken through the fence… again. And for no real reason except that they wanted more than what they already had, as cows often do.

With a curse and a grumble under his breath, The Rancher sped down the road to get around them. It didn’t take much to shift gears and get them moving the opposite direction, but with cows spilling off the road into the borrow pit, I realized I needed to hop out and chase on foot. Of course my fancy town booties were NOT the footwear of choice, but there was little to do except go regardless of tweaked ankles or scuffs.

It wasn’t long before others realized the problem and joined in, everyone feeling the frustration of a herd that never quite stays settled. Of course they wouldn’t all simply go back in the field. A large handful busted through more fences, complicating an already irksome evening. Running through tall brush and scooting through barbed wire, I prayed the nice clothes I rarely get to dress up in wouldn’t fall victim to the circumstances.

Some on foot, some on four-wheelers and motorbikes, we finally funneled the cattle through brush to find the gates and get them back where they belonged. But the truth was, if we left them there, they were just going to get out again. Not because of the hole they had just made—we had panels and wire ready to patch it—but because once they learned they could break through, they knew they could do it again.

So we adjusted the plan.

Instead of simply fixing the fence, we decided to relocate them to the corral—a sturdy metal pen far less likely to give to their unrelenting pressure. The Rancher and I headed to set gates and turn the herd while the others bright then from the pasture, not just fixing the problem for the night but hopefully creating a more long-term solution.

Once the cows were finally penned, we took a breath and admitted it could have been much worse. They got out, yes—but we caught it within minutes. We had plans, but dinner could be pushed back. It could have been a disaster.

The frustration was real.

The chaos was real.

And yet somehow, the night didn’t fall apart.

What makes these moments memorable isn’t just the humor or the absurdity—it’s how we show up for each other when it’s not easy. When things go sideways. When plans are interrupted. When the evening could easily end in frustration.

We made the best of what we had. The night was already simple—no flowers, no chocolates, no candles. Just a tired rancher trying to say “I love you,” and a ranch wife grateful for any moment together, even if the promise of no gates to open fell a little short.

Boots scuffed. Jeans dusted with sage. Hearts racing from the chase instead of the date—we handled the mess, laughed at the chaos, and eventually made it to dinner.

That’s partnership.

That’s love.

It shows up in the smell of sagebrush, in the quiet evening air, in the exhaustion, and in the decision to keep going together. We work side by side when it’s fun—but more importantly, when it’s hard.

Romance isn’t always candlelight or perfectly executed plans. Sometimes it’s teamwork in town clothes. Sometimes it’s laughter after chaos. Sometimes it’s knowing that when plans go sideways and problems appear out of nowhere, you both show up anyway.

And that kind of love?

It lasts any time of year.

The Price of Learning on a Ranch

February 4, 2026 by Allison

How a broken swather, a six-year-old on the tractor, plus a few other hard lessons taught me exactly how knowledge is earned- usually the hard way.

The little Montana town I grew up in was dotted with small family operations. Nearly every outfit welcomed extra help during the summer months while school was out, and I was lucky enough to have neighbors just down the road who took me on. I helped with everything from moving early-morning wheel lines and hand lines to pushing cows, spraying weeds, and putting up hay.

I was young and inexperienced, but willing to work hard and learn. There were plenty of growing pains — jobs I didn’t understand yet, equipment I hadn’t mastered — but at the end of the day, going home tired, dirty, and satisfied made the hard moments worth it.

With acres of hay to put up, I spent my fair share of time in the swather. My favorite was an old red International that looked rough but wouldn’t quit for anything. It did have one flaw: it wouldn’t stay cool. I remember my boss drilling it into me — keep an eye on the temperature gauge, know when to shut it down, and don’t push it past its limits.

Summer after summer, I ran that swather without incident. I stopped strategically to let it cool while moving irrigation lines, taking a quick break, or heading in for lunch. By my final summer, I was confident I had it figured out. Confident enough that I’d quietly crowned myself the queen of the hay crew.

Leaving for college was exciting, but daunting. I clung to every last moment I could spend in the fields. On my final night of work, I put off heading home, lingering in the comfort of that familiar old swather — until it sputtered, stalled, and died completely. It wouldn’t move. It wouldn’t start. Stuck in the middle of the field, I called my boss for help.

It took him only a moment to diagnose the problem. I had overheated the engine, and it had seized up. As the reality set in, I felt awful — for the cost of parts, labor, lost time, and delayed haying. Weeks later, I learned the parts were so expensive and hard to find that the swather was never fixed. The following year, they replaced it entirely.

Maybe, in the end, I did them a favor by forcing an upgrade. But I never forgot the lesson: pay attention to what you’re responsible for, and don’t let overconfidence lead the way. I would have given anything to do it again the right way. Since that wasn’t possible, all that was left was to learn — and never repeat it.

That lesson has followed me into motherhood.

Over the past few weeks, our six-year-old has been desperate for his turn to help bunch bales. He’s watched his older siblings take their place on the open-cab tractor, convinced that he, too, was big enough. Despite being told he was still too young, he didn’t give up. Eventually, his dad decided the best way for him to understand what it took was to let him try.

They headed out together. Dad explained the knobs and levers, walked him through the simple but important instructions, and then stepped back. Slowly, they moved bales into place for the trailer. The work wasn’t perfect — some bales dragged, some were crooked, and the throttle took a while to finesse. But at the end of the day, there was a tired, dusty, proud little boy climbing off the tractor. All it took was the chance to learn.

Learning looks different at every age.

Our oldest has made huge strides in his cowboying. This year, we saw his best roping yet — smooth runs, confident throws, calf after calf caught clean. Midway through branding season, during a big desert branding, it felt like he couldn’t miss. His pride was earned.

A few weeks later, cleaning up the last calves at the ranch, it was a different story. Easy shots were missed. Slack got tangled. At one point, he roped a cow while aiming for the calf beside her. The hit to his teenage ego was sharp — and necessary. It forced him to slow down, reassess, and figure out what had gone wrong. Paying with pride is painful, but sometimes it’s the most effective teacher.

He learned the same way his grandpa did.

My dad still tells stories from his early farming days, when he was certain he had everything figured out. One season, he dug irrigation furrows exactly as he thought they should be — until he turned the water on and realized water doesn’t flow uphill. Only the ends of the rows needed fixing, but they had to be redone by hand. His dad handed him a shovel and walked away. He never made that mistake again.

The fear of making mistakes can keep us from trying at all. It would be far easier for the cowboys on our operation to do everything themselves — less time, fewer breakdowns, no bent nails or bruised egos. But teaching the next generation how to work, how to pay attention, and how to recover when things go wrong is worth the cost.

On a ranch, learning is rarely free. We pay with time, energy, pride, or pocketbook. But the lessons last longer than the mistakes.

And we can only hope they’re less expensive than a new swather.

Doing Scary Things- Ranch Wife Style

February 18, 2025 by admin

The comfort zone- a place of ease, perceived control, and little stress. Let’s be honest, we all want to operate inside our comfort zone where we can keep anxiety at bay, feel confident, and know what we are doing. We fear failure so we ensure success by only doing those things we have already done. But experience teaches that the most growth and learning happens when we step outside that comfort zone. Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “Do something everyday that scares you. These small things that make us uncomfortable help us build courage to do the work we do.”

Life on the ranch tends to give us all plenty of moments outside our comfort zone that we can either embrace and learn through or shy away from and stay stagnant. I’ll admit that embracing those moments feels especially hard when my failures are out on display for so many others to see. It’s ok for my growing children to learn from failure, but as a grown adult, I too often feel like I should just know, well… everything.

Just last week I took the opportunity to do something new and outside my comfort zone. For some, this might seem like a simple daily chore but for me, it was a whole new experience- feeding cows solo. Now I go out and help feed often, sometimes daily. I know the routine, what to feed, how much, but I’ve always been the crew that opens the gates, cuts the net wrap off and such.

What I haven’t ever done is be the guy in the tractor behind the wheel. If we had to choose between my very capable husband and myself in the seat, we choose him because we want to get the job done and move on. And, really, why should I do it when he is there?

Eventually the day rolled around when all of the usual feeding crew were gone. The roping that was supposed to get done with plenty of time for the ranchers to get home and feed, went long, lending to one of two possibilities. Either they would have to feed late after getting home or I could jump in and try to do it myself. I pulled on my big girl coveralls and jumped in the tractor seat, sure that I could feed three bales of hay without disaster striking.

There were a few things I knew I had on my side as I set out- first I had the basics of tractor mechanics down so that I could drive faster than at a snail pace and move the loader in all the necessary directions. Second, if I had questions, FaceTime put me just one phone call away from help. And third, cows don’t care how pretty the feeding is, they just want the hay out.

Getting to the stackyard I found the right hay, and through a little trial and error, managed to get a bale on the forks and grab one with the three point bale squeeze on the back. It wasn’t as smooth and easy as when the guys do it, but I was doing it. I headed up the hill to the hungry heifers, planning in my mind how I was going to go about feeding. I would set the first bale down, cut the wrap off, tip it over, send it rolling down the hill and that would keep the cows out of the way while I put the other two in bale feeders around the pasture. Easy enough.

Everything started off according to plan until it was time to send that bale rolling down the hill. What seemed like a simple little push with the forks was hardly so and because it was taking longer than usual, the cows were now starting to get in the way. To complicate things even more, it was suddenly dark outside.

I was definitely outside my comfort zone, but also so in the thick of what I was doing that there was no quitting.

Scooping up the bale I had intended to roll down the hill, I put it in the first feeder and opted to try again with the second bale, learning from my earlier mistakes. It took a little trial and error but bale number two was finally rolled out and the cows were content to leave me alone while I fed the last bale.

Heading to the feeder, I saw that it was on a hill and while I might be in a tractor, I had better be smart about how I went about getting there. Between the snow and mud, the hill was slick and in that moment, a distinct memory of a teenage girl failing to turn a tractor up a muddy hill came rushing back to me.

Putting the tractor in the low, snail pace gear, I carefully headed down the hill, making sure I had a clear plan out of there after dropping my load. All seemed well as I made my way to the feeder until I stopped the tractor to pull off the net wrap and noticed the tractor continued to slide. I quickly turned the wheels and that was enough to keep it still. I knew I could dump the bale but I wasn’t sure how I would get out of my predicament once I straightened out again.

Four wheel drive. That was the solution. I really should have thought of that before heading down the slippery hill but at least I was thinking of it now. The only problem was that of the millions of buttons, levers and switches, I had no idea which to toggle. And I was sure that the wrong one would probably make the whole tractor implode.

Mustering the courage to make that phone call that admitted a bit of failure, I called my husband and asked for help. Without laughing at my mistakes or making me feel even more dumb than I already felt, my rancher easily helped me get out of my sticky situation. I dropped the last bale, skirted around the feeder, and headed for home quite proud of what I had finally accomplished that night.

For some, this was a simple chore, something they could probably do with their eyes closed, although I don’t recommend it. They made it seem easy but as I went through the very steps they did, it seemed so complicated and almost dauntin. I hope you chuckle about this little ranch wife willing to help even when the job is outside her comfort zone. But more importantly I hope you learn a few lessons from her.

Learn that you can accomplish far more than you think you can. You just have to try. New things are hard and scary- they are supposed to be! But, trying, jumping in with both feet is the only way to grow. Learn that people are here to help you. Asking for help isn’t admitting failure, even though it feels like it. Learn that the only real confidence in life comes from conquering those moments of fear, big or small. I might not be on the “A team” when it comes to the feeding crew, but if the job needs doing, I know I can do it. Next time, I just might have to start a little earlier and find the four wheel drive a little sooner.

Just Bad Luck Days on the Ranch

June 25, 2023 by admin

“If I didn’t have bad luck, I wouldn’t have any luck at all!” There might not be a truer phrase for a rancher to admit to than that. Some days it feels like all the stars have to align for the work to get done without any hitches, hiccups, or holdups. Whether it is Mother Nature the parts man or ornery old boss cow, someone, somewhere is cooking up a disaster to derail even the best laid plans. You can always count on the fact that in the middle of the cattle work, farm work, machinery fixing, fence fixing or anything else on the never end to-do list, something, without fail, will go wrong. And while I don’t have any research data to back me up, I’m pretty sure that the probability and the size of such a disaster goes up exponentially when its a high stakes situation, and goes up even more so when there is zero time for a breakdown and a do-over.

Okay, yes that may be an overdramatization, but you have to admit that there are days when things, not only don’t go right, but seem to go especially bad. It’s those sort of days you might have to concede the victory to fate, turn in early so nothing else can go wrong and laugh at the day to keep from crying. Looking back, we have had our fair share of bad luck days, some we can laugh at now… some that we still need a little more time.

This last winter felt like one stroke of bad luck after another. I mean, to begin with, it had to be bad luck that after years of drought and praying for moisture, it all comes pouring down in one, unending winter. Of course, we never look a gift horse in the mouth, but if I could have been in charge of the timing of said moisture, it certainly wouldn’t have come in a near record breaking winter fashion.

In a season where we really needed all the things to go right, I swear everything would go wrong, especially on the days when we were far from home and help. We put one fire out after another (not literally fires, but that surely would have warmed things up while we were freezing our fingers off). If it wasn’t the tractor door shattering (on a rented tractor, no less) to keep the work from being done, it was the blown hydraulic hose on the back. If it wasn’t the flat tire on the backhoe that kept us from feeding, it was the massive sinkhole that swallowed the newly fixed tractor. Not only did the gator break down but the snowmobile wouldn’t start either. You’ve heard of the hand Midas that turns everything that it touched to gold? We had the exact opposite. We touched it and it died, quit, or broke.

Sometimes it isn’t the hand that is cursed, it’s just the machine that refuses to stay in running condition. Our problem child of a pivot is simply dubbed “the old pivot” although it might be more accurate to call it the-leaky-run-down-dilapidated-old-pivot. As soon as one hole is plugged or fixed, a new pinhole starts gushing. Aside from its leaky bits, there are computer problems and electrical problems. You might say that running an old pivot just signs you up for breakdowns, but I think this pivot runs at a higher level of breakdowns. If we have any luck this year, it’s getting that old thing replaced… hope I didn’t just jinx it!

We might just make our own bad luck for the number of times we say things like “we are all caught up with the shop work” or “all the cows are settled.” It’s like those darn cows know when we breathe a sigh of relief and work to stir things up. If I had a dollar for everytime we think the cows are settled and then get a phone call that says the cows are out, we could pay someone else to keep them in. They are masters at finding the down wires, gates left open or just barging their way through. And with the sort of luck we run, we get those cows back in but can’t find the hole they are crawling through, so they just keep getting out.

Mother Nature especially likes to throw a wrench in our carefully planned out days. Despite knowing the old adage that you bale hay while the sun shines, it always seems we get into the wrong project for the weather. We meticulously check the forecast, make plans to best fit the conditions of the day, only to find the weatherman was wrong once again. It’s spraying weeds or cutting hay because it’s sunny for days on end to only have thunderstorms suddenly come in, day after day. Or planting fields just before the predicted storms never roll through. We move cows or plan to brand, sure it’s supposed to be a nice, sunny day, only to be caught in Idaho’s blustery wind, something we should learn to count on anyway.

Oh the luck of a rancher. It seems the ball never bounces our way. But truth be told, we are far luckier than we deserve with the great industry we have to be a part of. We have the great fortune of working the land, having the satisfaction of working as a family, and doing a work we love. There may be moments, some days more than others, that it feels like we have nothing but bad luck. But I will take these bad luck days on the ranch over any other day. Who needs luck when we live a life so blessed.

A Strong Ranch Kid Immune System, Brought to You by Dirt

November 28, 2022 by Allison

The weather has turned colder and one of the unfortunate downsides of everyone congregating inside is that we pass our germs around much faster. We look for sorts of remedies and quick fixes because being down and out with sickness is no fun. It’s not a quick fix, but ranch life has it’s own way to help keep colds at bay.

Wanna hear about it? Simply put, we just get down and dirty.

In a lot of ways, it’s hard to believe all those folks that say that ranch raised kids have stronger and healthier immune systems than their counterparts that live in the city. Someone might argue that just the opposite should be true, that all that exposure should lead to all sorts of illnesses and infections. But years of first hand evidence, plus a lot of official scientific research can’t be disputed. Kids raised in the country with animals, pollen filled air and a little extra dirt under their nails have been found to have a lower occurrence of asthma, allergies, seasonal colds and many other illnesses.

Like any good mom, I try to keep my kids clean, wash their hands and faces and lease once in a while. But now that I think of it, letting the dirt go a little longer isn’t such a bad thing. In fact, I’m doing them a favor, right?

There’s too many ways to count how ranch kids keep boosting their immune systems so let me just give you a snapshot look at some ways ranch raised kids are working on having those strong immune systems.

There is no one more defenseless and appealing for a dog to steal a lick from than that ranch kid that just isn’t eating his ice cream fast enough. The family pup is only trying to help and keep it from melting too fast or making such a big mess. On top of that, man’s best friend will share a few germs to help him have a good, strong immune system. Just don’t think what that cow dog was last licking on before he went for the sticky cheeks.

Along with the weekly water check, the range salt has to be checked and the kids are always willing to be on that. Not only do they check to see if there are salt blocks out but they check to make sure that they are indeed, still salty. There is only one way to check that and that is by taking a big ol’ lick. Of course there is no thought as to what last licked the salt block or anything else that might have come across it. Nope, just a big, salty lick and a good dose of germs to keep that immune system running at peak performance.

Moms are always concerned that they give their kids enough vitamins, but ranch moms never have to worry so long as the kids keep tasting the mineral supplements they put out for the herd. A lick here and there is a double wamy- vitamin boosts and immunity support.

If there is one thing a ranch kid will never run short of, it is dirt. Ranch kids are some sort of magnet for dirt. The instant they see it, they are all over it, or rather, it is all over them. It’s in their hair, on their cheeks, in their boots, all over their hands… it’s everywhere. And it’s a pretty safe bet that ranch dirt isn’t straight dirt but probably has its fair share of other run things… like poop in it. Nothings better than poopy dirt all over a ranch kid to boost her immune system.

A smart ranch mom will always make sure that there are plenty of snacks packed for any outing. The fun part of having snacks with a ranch kid is that they will usually come with a side of dirt. With so much dirt around, what’s the big deal of having a little with the fruit snacks or crackers. Just brush it off, it will be fine, or helpful for the ol’ immune system if nothing else.

There comes a point in a ranch kid’s life that they can’t help but lick EVERYTHING. IN. SIGHT. It’s like some terrible right of passage. They put their mouths on the gate, on the 4 wheeler, on all the tools… and if they survive it all, they will never get anything more than a sniffle during the cold season for the rest of their lives.

At home they might wash their hands before dinnertime, but out on the range, there isn’t a kitchen sink to get the job done. So dirty hands and peanut butter and jelly sandwich just happen. Dirt, grease, mud, poop and a whole host of other things will be all over their hands but it’s all good. Dad is right, a little dirt builds character or at least builds strong immune systems.

When a kid gets thirsty, there is no stopping him from drinking out of the nearest water hole. If it’s clean enough for the animals, it has to be clean enough for the kids, right? Who cares if it’s an old wheel line pipe or rusty trough? I’m sure the giardia is only temporary and that his immune system will come back stronger than ever.

If kids are a magnet for dirt, it is only multiplied when there is a little water added and that dirt turns to mud. Whether it is a muddy puddle from the night’s rainstorm, the muddy ditch bank or a little mud from the sprinkler, you know it is calling their name and they can’t resist. Sure it’s a big mess, but it’s also some good immune system therapy.

Every ranch has its handfuls of fun critters little ranch boys and girls can’t help but pet. From the dog to the chickens to the horses to the barn cats to the bottle calves, those little ranch hands are all over those many legged friends. Washing hands after such fun is low on the priority list for busy kids that are already onto the next thing. No worries, they are just multitasking- growing strong immune systems as they play all day.

It can be a real laugh when you think all the germs ranch kids come across, day in and day out as they play. We might cringe to think about it all, but those dirty hands and faces are keeping them healthy in the long run. And there’s a lot to be said about a dirty faced, happy and healthy ranch kid.

Calves on the Ground

February 28, 2018 by Allison

Calving 2018 is well under way here at Eliason Livestock! The few weeks before we start calving, I get all sorts of excited and just long for those cute, cuddly babies to be born. There is just something so exciting about new babies! Everything from their wispy tails to their soft noses to their wobbly legs screams “SNUGGLE ME!”

Of course their mommas are sitting behind them, snorting up a storm saying, “Get back before I eat you alive!”

Its not really like that. Too often at least. And in some regards, we like it when mommas are protective. Its their instincts teaching them how to mother and protect their calves. Them being a little feisty is better than them ignoring their calves completely!

For the longest time, we thought that we would be calving in the most ideal weather. January couldn’t’ have been more perfect- warm (ish… for Idaho at least), no wind, no rain or snow… But good things never last, especially when it comes to weather. Within a week of our first calf hitting the ground, we’ve had storms roll in, temperatures hit the single digits, and the wind blowing like it was going out of style.

So what do we do for the cold?

The Rancher takes a lot of time to prepare the pen that the heifers calve in. The pen itself is on a large hill which is so great for naturally protecting mommas and babies from the wind. On top of that, the guys push the dirt and poop around to make hills for additional wind breaks. Right up against the breaks and in a few other places throughout the pen, they put out straw for a dry warm place to snuggle down into. Then to top it all off, we have a few calf sheds that are a perfect nursery to keep the calves warm and dry.

So long as it is dry, we can do a darn good job at keeping the calves warm. We only really have to worry about them getting cold in the first few hours after birth. Naturally, those babies are wet when they come out. So naturally, they are going to get cold. Of course, their mommas help them get warm as they clean them up. A belly of warm milk goes a long way too, to getting warm from the inside out.

Once in a while, those things just aren’t enough to keep a baby warm. So we go in and scoop that baby up to bring it into the warmer. Its amazing how just a few hours in the warmer can perk a calf right up!

Calving in the winter is hard but we hope for the best and plan for the worst. Instead of waiting for the bad to happen, we try to be prepared and proactive to give our calves the best chance possible. And then we watch and hope and pray that we can make up the difference when it just isn’t enough.

Cows on the Move

January 17, 2018 by Allison

All the cows are home. Well, all the cows that are coming home at home. I’m like a momma hen with all chicks tucked under her wings. Ha! No… I don’t feel the need to have them all close under wing and my watchful eye. They are probably going to get out and make for more work for me. Hey honey, lets get them kicked back out ASAP, ok!

We brought the last of the girls home a week ago. On our anniversary, in fact. What better way could we have spent our anniversary than chasing cows?! They actually moved super well, which was kinda surprising. Remember a few years ago when it was kinda a disaster? I was busy reading stories to The Ranch Princess when The Rancher walked in and said my favorite words, “Are ya busy? Can you come help?” Even if I am busy, YES, of course I am going to help!

My job was simple- wait and turn the cattle onto the road and then follow in the truck and trailer. I was more than willing for that job because it was a very cold very foggy and rainy day.

You may be surprised to see the guys heading out on 4 wheelers when I mentioned that we had the truck and trailer. This is how we cowboys in Holbrook roll.. Haha! Actually, the debate of taking horses or 4 wheelers or motorcycles can get pretty hot between the brothers. All in good fun of course! Right? I guess a lot of that has to do with perspective. The Rancher, whose every day job is to get the work done, is all about efficiency. If there is a lot of cows to move or gather over a lot of ground, he may pull out the motorbike. Then there is the opinion that what’s the point in moving cows if you don’t ride a horse… That’s half of the greatness of ranching- work that REQUIRES you to ride a horse. Which is pretty much the best kind of work. Because it isn’t work. It’s play. Both opinions have valid points…

I’ll admit, that while I love any chance to get on a horse, there are those times that 4wheelers are just more convenient. Especially when that may be the only way that I can come along. A whole other OTHER perspective on this intense debate.

I cornered The Rancher and had him spell it out for me on how he decides if he loads up the horses or the 4wheelers.

The guys like to take horses as often as possible. They can get anywhere a cow goes, especially those rangy places. It means that we can rope and doctor anything we see, rather than having to come back to take care of it later. And of course, it satisfies a cowboy’s soul to sit up in the saddle in harmony with his horse.

So when do we take 4wheelers? We usually pull them out when its a quick push down the road and it would take almost as much time to get the horses in and saddled as it would to move the cows. (ok, it doesn’t really take that long to get the horses out, but you get the idea…) But you can see how it might not be worth getting them ready for just a little jaunt down the road.

It seems that the times The Rancher rides the 4 wheeler or motorbike the most is when there is a lot of territory to cover and not a lot of man power. I see this mostly the days where they are bringing the cows in off the range than just trailing them down the road. Or if he is out checking the herd during calving season.

A few years ago we had a really hard winter. Really hard. Acutally, we have had several hard winters over the last few years. But the year I’m thinking of was hard in the midst of calving. It was so important for us to be able to get around the cattle quickly so that if there were any calves that needed help, mostly helping get warm, we could get to them before it was too late. We didn’t hardly lose a calf to the cold and I think the biggest deal was getting around fast.

Where do you stand on this issue? Because it is super important… I know some guys that at more on the rancher end than the cowboy end and they do 4wheelers only. I know another guy that likes to use horses because they will do less damage to grasses and feed. And I even know another ranch that they don’t use horses or 4wheelers… They walk. As much as they can they like to do it all on foot. They aren’t too horse savvy to use horses but they are also concerned on the impact of 4wheelers.

Do you have an opinion? I want to know what you do at your ranch! Because… I’m a curious creature, and even though we all do the same thing- ranching, we all do it differently. But however you do it, keep doing it. 4Wheelers or horses, it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that we all find our own BEST way to get the work done. Be your best and rock on!

Until next time!
The Rancher’s Wife