August 26, 2005
Dear Barbi,
Remember with
me back to 1962; to a younger and gentler day in our lives. Some things in life
are just more memorable than others. I have written hundreds of stories that I
witnessed. They lay in all stages of my memories. This one stands out. What a pleasure
to just have been there.
We woke up that
morning to an extremely cold winter day in 1962 on the Ulmer Hereford Ranch
near Morgan Mill, Texas. The outside was a postcard of beauty. During the night
the heavens had placed six inches of the most beautiful snow ever seen by me in
Texas. It was a very still morning with temperatures dipping into the mid-twenties.
Things of beauty can also be deadly though.
The past week we had moved 175 pregnant angora nannies to a large shed next to a
harvested peanut field. After the peanuts are dug, combined and the vines are
baled, there is still an enormous amount of vines and peanuts left that goats
can get fat on. That was the purpose of their being here, along with the fact
of the big shed for shelter from the winter and kidding next month. The reason
for these nannies was for replacement of about 10% of the 1500 wethers culled
each year.
These wether
hair goats made more percentage wise than anything on the ranch. They would
shear $10-12 a piece and this was in the ‘60s.
I asked you
little girls, “Would you like to go feed with me this morning?” You both
screamed out your yes. We all ate a big breakfast. Mama bundled you both up and
we took off. We loaded up peanut hay and cubes for the cattle. Everything needs
protein when it’s cold and this was the highest. We stopped close to the shed and
were instantly mobbed. If there’s anything in the world that goats love, it’s
peanut hay. I threw a couple of bales off, broke them and started throwing them
blocks. You girls and me got side tracked though. Always inside the bales are
many, many cured peanuts. The vines are baled and in time, the bales build up a
very high heat for a certain many days and then it cures. These by far are the
best peanuts ever. I was sitting on a bale exposing the peanuts and you girls
would grab the peanut vine and about half the time a goat would grab it from
you. A couple of times, it ended in a chase. You never won. I never heard so
much squealing in my life. Goats were all over us and even over the pick-up.
You were having a ball.
After filling
up on peanuts, we had put out all the hay and left for the Northeast pasture to
feed the cattle. Other men fed the other pastures. We slipped and slid to the
pack of the pasture where the cattle were behind a hill next to a lot of timber.
We fed them the cubes. You girls ate a few of those, of course. You were both a
big part of everything that we did that morning, from fighting goats for
peanuts to feeding a pasture full of cattle, even eating a bite with them. We
loaded up and left, we were through.
We were following
our own tracks out when all of a sudden I saw some deer tracks. I stopped and
we got out. I explained to you that a buck deer had crossed our tracks since we
had come along here. It was a big one and I pointed out a print of his dew
claws behind the foot print that showed it to be a buck. I asked you, “Do you
want to track this deer?” You both squealed like little magpies. We took off on
his trail just jabbering. We didn’t have a chance to see the buck but you were
both excited and having fun. We followed his winding trail through timber and
over a hill for about a half mile. There was a dead fall behind the hill and
after getting to about thirty yards of it, a big buck came to its feet and
lazily loped off. I quickly pointed him out to you. You were both squealing
again and jumping up and down and that deer wasn’t a bit scared of us. He just
loped off. He had a big wide rack and I could count 8 points at least.
When we finally
got home that afternoon, Mama had a nice hot meal ready and boy, were we
hungry. It was fun hearing you both tell your mama about your experiences that
day.
What a wonderful day it was. Just two little girls, Barbi 9 and Jo 6
hanging out with their 30 year old cowboy dad. Life is good.
Happy birthday,
Barbi
Love
Pop
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