My mistake involved my ancestor, my Dad. It also involved my sister, Gail, and a neighbor girl, Cathy. This event took place in the late '60's. Maybe 1968.
The cows on the meadow before they began their climb up the hill.
Unfortunately no pictures have been found of the actual event, so similar type pictures on our ranch were used for the story.
We were my Dad’s best hired help, he would often say that he might not have the best crew but he had the best looking. Of course we were always ready to ride our horses and help. While it was upsetting to my mother, who didn’t like horses, and she worried about our ventures in the Rocky Hills south of Dillon, Montana. The Rocky Hills, commonly known as our ranch, had sagebrush, rattlesnakes, rocks and lots of hills. A great playground for children on horses or driving various vehicles, right? But it was our ranch and it was where our Dad taught us many lessons. Mostly how to work! Sometimes the lessons involved solving a problem. Sometimes we created the problem! We were just kids!
This specific instance of a mistake involved trailing cows. Since Dad was a full time veterinarian plus owning a ranch, his cows were taken to another rancher for feeding and calving. And since he had 3 available girls to help, who also liked to ride, it was an easy decision. We were cheap labor while trucking was expensive.
Gail had gone with Dad through the hills in a jeep to survey the route. So she knew the route. The cows had to climb out of the creek bottom up the steep hill in the picture below, following an old cow/horse/deer trail. Dad had told me in previous trails that just follow the cows, they know where they are going. Dad was in the “lead”, meaning he was with the first bunch of cows going up the hill. It was basically single file for each cow, heavy with calf, to lumber up the hill. I was in the middle encouraging the cows up the hill, but they knew to stay on the trail. Cathy was also in the middle, somewhere, following the cows up the hill. Gail was at the drag or at the end of the line of cows, but she was the one who knew the trail! When I got to the top, the cows were still on the trail. But I could not see Dad anywhere. I knew he was riding a colt so the alarm bells went off. Now it was common for Dad to change his mind, so I tried not to worry.
A similar day trailing calves in winter.
After turning the cows in a different direction on a hillside, we made to the correct gate. My mistake cost us a few hours and tired cows. Of course it was cool weather, probably December or January, so we rested the cows at the gate before trailing on down the hillside to the first night camp.
But the cows were OK. Dad was OK, his help was OK. And we learned another lesson or two!
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