A Pasture Ride With The Animals And Little Else

I had to bring the bull yesterday.

I ruined the warm Thanksgiving weather with my family by driving my open cab tractor 10 miles into mechanical and electric fence posts before the ground froze. The bulls were still grazing and suffering from sub-freezing temperatures and wind. The sheep had to leave the corridor to graze in the same pasture, so I decided to multitask.

I usually take the sheep to the pasture every morning and return to the safe area of the shelter every evening. Both jobs are my favorite time of day, finishing touches to my other jobs, and walking is much hotter than driving. I didn't think I could put the bulls on their feet.

The horses stood outside the ridge, out of the wind, hoping for grass or at least a patch of alfalfa. They all got a bullet in my pocket. I got swords for one of them. I threw myself on his bare back. If not your feet, at least your feet will be warm on this trip.

The sheep were in no hurry for breakfast. No wonder they didn't want to get up. Some of them left bits of frozen wool on the ground where the snow had melted while they slept. We all went east to the alfalfa. I make my way through the grass, I roll with stingers, I dodge the grunt.

I expected to see a coyote riding barefoot without a gun, but he was probably curled up in the creek bed, his warm tail around his nose. At least where I wanted to be. I didn't dare wrap my cold fingers in gloves for fear of holding the horse's hooves in case he slipped. And this horse is known for bursting with joy in the cold.

I can usually explode, but if I don't, I can't come back. As the temperature drops, the horses grow rapidly and the high zone level disappears. Finally the sheep got the alfalfa and I got the bull I needed. At this point I found a reason to drop the case, let the horse go, and went home. A little circulation will help my fingers, feet and nose.

Then the wise words of the runner come to mind. If you wait for a good day to do something, you will never do anything.

The bulls turned to the corridor and charged as fast as they could. This means they move on grass, bite and avoid snow. The wind bit my face, and the sun came out, glittering on the snow and chasing the clouds. The oxen rushed into the stream bed. My horse followed. I grabbed my leg and smiled.

In the stillness of the cold wind not a bird chirps. No mud came out of the woods. The Hungarian partridge did not fly. As the winter stars accompanied me every night as I walked safely with the sheep, the sun sang its silent glory as I followed the bulls, teasing me with fleeting flashes of warmth.

Maybe it's the silence. Maybe ignore the phone is too cold to check it. Maybe it's the security of my day, taking care of my animals, with no time for anything else.

The bulls rolled out through the open passage door and buried their heads in the pit. I slipped off my horse and staggered on my helpless legs. I leaned against him, trying to regain my balance and glad no one tried to escape.

“Thank you, good horse. It was fun."

Lisa Schmidt raises beef and lamb on the Graham Ranch near Conrad. Lisa can be reached at L.Schmidt@a-land-of-grass-ranch.com .

This article originally appeared in the Great Falls Tribune; Reflections on the Prairies. Winter impressions when driving oxen