A GLIMPSE OF LIFE & DEATH ON THE RANCH.......By Gail L. Jenner

Life is hard on a ranch, especially when calving season comes along. With close to 1000 head of cows, the season can be 24-hour duty when first calf heifers begin calving. Late nights, long days, cold weather all play into the drama that takes place each year. Although we calve in the fall, we do live in a mountain valley and sometimes the snow comes early....even if it's only a skiff, it can be discouraging.

For anyone who hasn't experienced life on a ranch, perhaps the memoir shared here will provide a glimpse into the struggle to protect and/or save the lives that depend on us each and every day. Nothing about taking care of livestock is taken for granted; would that more people realize the deep bond that connects man/woman and beast!

Sometimes it's a hard drama, especially when a heifer has trouble. The following (true) event occurred in the early years of our marriage, before I had experienced the frustrating and disappointing loss of a calf or even a young mother cow. The loss is not one anyone accepts easily.

I wrote about this episode a few weeks after it happened -- perhaps as my way of processing and letting go -- and revised it several years later, so I am thrilled to see this story finally "find its home" in the anthology recently released by TwoDot/Globe, entitled ANKLE HIGH AND KNEE DEEP. It's one of the four I submitted.

If I might add, as editor and collector of the anthology/ volume, I was thrilled that the editors/publishers at TwoDot/Globe Pequot also loved the piece.

Birth

Gail L. Jenner

“Oh, Doug, is it going to be all right?”

“I don’t know. It don’t want to come. Maybe the calf is turned.” My husband pulled off his long-sleeved shirt and dipped his hands into the bucket of soapy water before turning to her. His hands entered easily, but the cow resisted when he pushed his arms in up to the elbows. “Come on, Mama.”

As the cow strained against the nylon halter I held taut, I swallowed the bile that burned my throat. At the same time, a series of groans rose up out of her throat, then her legs, shaking uncontrollably, gave up beneath her swollen body. She dropped to the straw with an ominous thud.

“Is the calf turned the right way?” My words, barely spoken, tinkled like coins in the empty barn. I dropped the end of the halter. This cow wasn’t going anywhere.

Doug hesitated, brows drawn together, tongue moving across chapped lips. “The head’s okay, but one leg don’t seem to be.”

“But will it live?”

He grunted, trying to wipe his chin against his shoulder. “Not unless we get it out soon.” He withdrew his hands and stood for a moment. He glanced up at me. “We'll have to pull it.”

With bloodied fingers, he picked up the length of chain he'd dragged out of the pickup earlier. The links of the mechanical stretcher clanked noisily.

I frowned as he circled and fastened one end of the chain around a small pair of hooves barely protruding from the young cow’s enraged cavity. Still down and panting, she twisted her head back until that the white sockets of her eyes bulged.

I held my protest. I knew Doug was doing all he could.

“When I start to pull,” he ordered, handing me one end of the chain, “make sure it don't slip off.”

The hard links rattled as Doug pulled on the lever – once, twice; the sound sent chills down my back, reminding me of fingernails scraping against a chalkboard.

Doug yanked on the pulley again. “Hold it steady!”

The chain grew taut, but the calf didn't budge. The cow’s belly ballooned with another contraction and she gasped.

I shrank back as she bawled again. “Oh, poor Mama,” I whispered. Why was life such a struggle?

Disgusted, Doug dropped the pulley contraption and shoved his hands back through the slimy opening, leaning forward to negotiate a better hold on the buried calf. Pearls of sweat trailed down his lean cheeks and they shimmered in the lopsided beams of amber light provided by his old pickup’s headlights.

He scowled as he probed and prodded, pushed and pulled.

Night finally edged in, the darkness filling the barn like spilled ink. Dinner hour long forgotten, I could not have moved away from the young mother even if I’d wanted to.  I was still new to marriage and this ranching life, and I hadn’t realized how tenuous life could be.

“Hey!” Doug interrupted my thoughts. “Give me that hammer and chisel.”

“Oh,” I groaned, reaching for the tools he had brought – just in case. Then I turned away, unable to watch. Only in impossible situations did a farmer or vet choose to split a young cow’s pelvis.

Hopefully it would heal.

“I have to,” Doug whispered. I nodded, touched by his attempt to ease my discomfort.

The hammer hit dully; the job was done. Throwing the tools aside, he moved swiftly. He reached for the calf's hooves and tugged. Like a soft ripe banana, the bloody body of the bald-faced calf oozed out onto the damp straw.

Dropping to his knees, my husband wiped the afterbirth from the calf's nose and tongue, but the tongue dangled like a fat pink tube sock, and its eyes stared blankly into the empty night.

Taking a quick, deep breath, Doug pressed his mouth over the calf’s. Sealing both nostrils, he blew breath after breath into the limp body.

I waited, tears slipping unnoticed down my cheeks.

Time passed cruelly.

Finally Doug leaned back and frowned. His eyes reflected my fear. “Too late. Too damn late.”

No! I took a step forward. You have to live. You can’t die. I held my breath. I felt Doug exhale slowly, but he avoided my glance.

And the cow, exhausted, lay, panting, her head flopped over in the straw as if she'd turned away from the awful sight.

Doug dragged the calf aside, his own face dark with unspoken disappointment. Then he returned to the cow.

He rested one palm lightly on her hip, but she didn't move as he inspected her and cleaned her off; neither did she flinch when he gave her an injection of antibiotic from the small black bag he always carried with him.

But I couldn’t stop the tears. Turning slowly, I looked out at the stars scattered like fool’s gold across the black dome of sky. Life. Death.

I turned back to the young cow.

Doug was massaging her back and shoulders, mindless of the cold air against his wet, stained arms and hands, compassion written across his weather-stained features. “I'm sorry, old gal,” he whispered. 

Slowly he coaxed her to her feet and pulled off the halter. She trembled, but seemed to gather her strength in the next moments.

It was then his glance trapped mine.

I winced.

The cow bawled.

He smiled tentatively. There would be another birth, his eyes said.

Perhaps another death, I wanted to retort.

Perhaps. But always, life prevails.

I hope you have enjoyed this excerpt from the recent release, ANKLE HIGH AND KNEE DEEP.

For more on ANKLE HIGH AND KNEE DEEP, check it out on amazon.com:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/0762792116/#_swftext_Swf

ANKLE HIGH AND KNEE DEEP..... Now on Sale! By Gail L. Jenner

ANKLE HIGH AND KNEE DEEP has officially been released!  I’m so thrilled….and so proud of the 40+ women who participated in this venture, some of whom I've never even met but who jumped in when I queried them.  It was a book I've envisioned for many years and features both well-known and unknown writers, including a few who declared, “I can’t write!” We even have stories from two 90 or near 90 year old women, whose lives are such a testimony of grit and determination...

But our collected stories are here -- and already the book is listed #25 on the Top 100+ titles of books related to RURAL LIFE on www.amazon.com -- and it’s only been available for a couple of weeks.

As a way of introducing the anthology to readers here, I’m posting the Introduction to the book. It was part of the pitch I gave to the editor at Two Dot/Globe Pequot more than 2 years ago at a Women Writing the West conference.  She loved the concept and worked with me throughout the development of what would be/should be included or discarded with energy and tenacity. Three revisions later, we were ready to go to print.  And I LOVE the cover; the Art Dept. picked the perfect image for this volume!

I’m so grateful to Erin Turner, our editor at Globe/Pequot.  The actual pitching process took a couple of months, UNTIL I settled on the title of the book – ANKLE HIGH AND KNEE DEEP.  Funny, the power in a title!!  When I wrote Erin and suggested it, she immediately wrote back: “That’s it! We've got it now!”

Here's the opening to the anthology, which features stories and photographs from farm and ranch women all over the West (and a couple from further east!)....

 INTRODUCTION

By Gail L. Jenner

“Farming seems easy when your plow is a pencil and you are a thousand miles from the corn field.”  ~  Dwight Eisenhower  

            Life is all about the learning, and the “family farm” is a great schoolhouse. AnkleHigh and Knee Deep represents what 40+ rural/farm women have learned while standing in or stepping out of mud, manure, and other “offal.” It is a collection of entertaining and inspirational essays that offers a unique perspective on love, marriage, parenting, relationships, loss, and other universal issues. These women’s connection to the land and to the people and animals in their lives is documented here.            
           

            Concepts that the general public has now adopted, words like sustainability and renewable/recyclable, come to us directly from the life of a farmer or rancher. Working within a landscape that can change with the seasons or alongside the forces of nature that demand commitment and sacrifice develops deep character; interestingly, the word “character” comes from the Greek word meaning “to chisel.” That describes perfectly what living and working in an often harsh physical environment does to the human soul.

            Several of the best lessons I’ve learned have come from forty-two plus years spent on our fifth-generation ranch:
           

            *Sometimes the mud and muck gets ankle deep, but it can always be washed off.

            *You’ve got to plant the seeds before there’s anything worth harvesting.

            *Waiting is time well spent. After winter comes spring, and after spring rains comes the summer harvest.

            *Never think anything is not worth saving; sometimes it’s just the odd piece of baling wire that keeps things from falling apart.

            *Don’t be in a hurry; that’s when you run through fences or get stuck in ditches.

            *Always watch out for the soft places:  Anything that looks that good has got to be dangerous.

            *Don’t ignore the rotten apples. They can destroy the entire barrelful if overlooked.

            *Don’t be afraid of hard work and sweat. There’s nothing finer than a shower or warm fire after a day well spent.

            *Love your job. It’s what you do, all day, every day.

            *Just because a skunk is cute doesn’t mean he won’t stink!

            *Don’t look back: that’s when you find yourself belly up in a low spot.

            *Don’t hold onto trouble; you’ve got to spread the manure around in order to make it effective fertilizer.

            *Do things right the first time so you don’t have to do them twice.

            *Be willing to invest – not only money – but sweat and time. In the end you’ll have something worth keeping.

            *Out of the garbage heap grow the seeds you ignored.

            *Good fences make good neighbors; know what people’s boundaries are and learn to respect them.

            *To have a good garden, you’ve got to live in it; weeds take over quickly.

            *Weaning time can’t be ignored; there’s a right time to let go.

            *Most of the time there’s no choice:  Success requires frequent sacrifice and persistence.   

            Though not a faith-based book, this collection of essays does underscore traditional values while providing an oftimes humorous look at life spent at the wrong end of a tractor, cow, or horse. Many reflect the lessons learned from a life centered around work, work, and more work. Trivial moments become significant moments of transition – revealing that maybe the destination isn’t as important as the road that leads there. 
           

            Maybe that’s why farmers eventually become philosophers.

For those who love to read inspirational or humorous/insightful stories or memoir....for those who love to take a step into another world, Ankle High and Knee Deep is just that.  Is it too much to add that we would love to have a few reviews for those who do find time to order ANKLE HIGH AND KNEE DEEP  ... AND thank you for letting me brag!

For more about my books, both nonfiction or historical fiction, check out my website at www.gailjenner.com

or http://prairierosepublications.yolasite.com/gail-l-jenner.php

LEARNING TO OBSERVE AND LEARNING FROM ANIMAL BEHAVIOR.... by Gail Jenner

Animal Behavior is fascinating. As the wife of a rancher, I've come to understand that we can learn from watching nature and observing animals. It's more than oohing over Bambi; living alongside nature can be intimidating, exhilarating, or tragic.

On the ranch we get to witness both the unusual and the ordinary in animal behavior. We have a natural preserve that runs through the middle of our ranch, a piece of property and slough that the family has maintained for 100 years or more. There we witness a myriad of animal interactions: from eagles and herons and geese, to otters and muskrats and even a beaver or two.

Every spring we have a new batch of goslings up and down the slough.

If you are lucky to be there at just the right time, you can see some unbelievable behavior. One time my husband witnessed an eagle that, in mid-air, dove at a Canadian goose flying with its flock. It knocked the bird out of the sky and it tumbled to the ground. The eagle quickly swooped down to claim its prize. He also watched as an eagle watched, circling round and round, until a duck paddling on the surface of the water, went "under" and came up -- timing it perfectly to fly down and swoop him up. The duck couldn't react to get away quickly enough to get away.

We had chickens for years and I had one favorite banty, Henny Penny, who would nest anywhere. One year I rescued a dozen duck eggs and she sat on them and hatched them...the amazing part was that as the "chicks" got bigger, they would wander into the small pond I made for them and swim around. Poor Henny Penny would raise her "skirts" and step into the water -- squawking at them as they swam around her!!

Another time, as we rode down the lane, we watched a Blue Heron perch on the edge of one of our water troughs, "plucking" gold fish from the tank. We keep gold fish in the tubs and tanks because they are helpful in keeping algae to a minimum. Obviously this heron found a convenient round of appetizers that day!

An old pine tree, was home to over 20 heron nests....but later fell down in a wind storm.

For a writer observing such moments is an opportunity to see and know what few truly get to experience, and I've often commented to my cowboy/ranching husband that his relationship with animals and wildlife is something awe-inspiring. He handles animal life and death as part of his every day work and thus encounters the miraculous and mundane that makes him all the more philosophical and wise. Not an ivory kind of life do we live, but a raw and very real one that demonstrates the beauty and the devastation found in nature.

There are the tragic nights when we bring in a young cow that is struggling to give birth, when the calf is too large or turned back and even after an hour or more of pulling, the calf slips away from all of us. There are the frustrating moments when we find an orphan calf that's been abandoned because it's a twin, but then, as we take it home and bottle feed it, there's the satisfaction of knowing you have saved a life.

This calf survived a long and arduous birth, but got up and was soon nursing contentedly.

We've had some delightful encounters with animals over the years. One episode involved a domestic old gray goose -- a leftover from a larger group my husband's family had raised -- and a pair of Canadian geese. The three geese were part of the ranch before we were married. Big and intimidating when approached, these geese found their home with the pigs. We used to raise pigs commercially and had a field full (fully range raised). Whether they stayed because the pigs had access to water or not, we never knew, but they served as immediate alarms for the pigs...squawking and honking if you came too close.

Baby pigs -- curious and intelligent!

At night the geese nestled down among and alongside the pigs, and even had to "run through" the "little chute" when we worked the pigs -- honking all the way. There was also a pair of Canadian geese, who had originally been rescued by my husband's mother, that lived for several years out in the pig pens, too. They had to have been siblings as they came from the same nest of eggs, and, traditionally, Canadian geese do not "mate with" their siblings, but these two finally nested. Sadly the eggs never hatched I have always found it intriguing that Canadian geese also mate for life.

Even when flocks of visiting, migrating geese and ducks flew by -- or landed temporarily -- these geese remained put, at least for five or more years. They certainly did not see themselves as wild waterfowl although no one could get near them. Eventually the pair moved out further and further so whether they were finally killed off or flew off, we don't know for sure. But the old gray goose lived to be well over 20 years old.

We also had a pair of nesting owls that settled in every spring for at least five or six years -- right in our "backyard." Our yard is large and we have some enormous trees, so it wasn't surprising that the pair of Great Horned owls would take up residence. Each year we would hear them, and they would often scold us if we came too close to the tree where they perched. They always raised two chicks, but the hard part was that one of the two birds always fell to the ground eventually. We never had the chick die, but it was so fluffy and without flight, that we would rescue it and place it in a protected place (where the ranch dogs and cats would hopefully not discover it!). Unbelievably, the parents would take turns watching from other nearby trees -- swooping down when no one was there to feed the abandoned chick. Finally the chick grew enough real feathers to fly, and one day, without warning, he'd be gone -- as would both male and female and remaining chick.

One year, however, the owls got to the nest "too late" and a pair of red-tailed hawks flew in and ransacked it, claiming it for their own! We watched as the two pairs of angry birds sat across from each other, 60 feet in the air above our heads, and screeched at each other. This would go on until the owls took flight. With other large trees we know that they found another place to roost, but they never returned to the original nest. We would see the owls at a distance, but with the hawks right there, ready to intimidate, the owls kept their distance. Again, like the owls, whenever we stepped out of the house, they reminded us that they were there!

The second of two trees (right edge) that stood 110 feet tall...in this tree the mother Horned Owl would watch her young chick. The diameter of the tree is at least six feet around.

Last year we had to cut down a huge portion of two of our largest trees so that now we have neither the owls nor the hawks close at hand; the trees had been hit by lightening a time or two and posed a threat, so we had to cut down over 40 feet of each!

But as my husband assured me, eventually they will become the giants they were. Until then I have to watch my home-building birds from a distance.

Coming this spring, Globe Pequot will be releasing the anthology, ANKLE HIGH AND KNEE DEEP, edited and contributed to by Gail. The anthology is a collection of rural and ranching reflections and memoirs from 40+ woman authors as well as photographs from life in the country. For more about Gail's other books, visit her Prairie Rose biography and link. Be sure and check out her release from Prairie Rose, ACROSS THE SWEET GRASS HILLS, available as a download or trade paperback.