July Branding

A dusty throat is not something just in cowboy songs.

Trailer tires and cow hooves throw dust in the still heat, branding iron fire crackles hot, and the July sun comes out from behind a cloud and toasts the parched ground of Marr Flat. Our throats are actually coated in dust, it's in our noses and eyes, it's even on the inside of our salt and vinegar chip bag. And it is all over the toddlers who have taken refuge on a blanket under a table.

But no one is complaining.

I am a weekend rancher. I get a day-long glimpse into what is a lifestyle for many in our county. And each time I do I am somewhat in awe of their diehard cheerfulness. These people work very long, very hard hours doing jobs that are at times frustrating (all the heifers you just sorted that afternoon have found a way back in with the rest of the herd) uncomfortable (a 2 a.m. C-section on a cow in February) and thankless (I sometimes have to laugh if I hear someone complain about the price of beef in the grocery story- come with me and see what it took to get it to this shelf).

But these people do it because they love it. They love the canyons and mountains, the quiet of a day spent fencing on a wildflower covered prairie, the satisfaction of a lasso landing perfectly around two back legs, and they love their animals- some of the best cared for creatures you'll ever see.

This love is contagious and leaves me thankful for all around me. On a day when you could expect people who want to wrap up the work and get home to a cool house once the last calf is branded, everyone gets off their horses and takes time to catch up, laugh and play with the kids.

It's like BJ said, when my seven year old asked, "What? We have to go out in the dark before we eat to feed the cows?!"

"No Rhys, We don't have to, we get to."

I want to live my life like that.