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Salute to agriculture – Farmers, Ranchers, and cowdogs

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                                                                                                                                       This site may have affiliate links for which we may receive a commission

 

This week, this cowdog salutes agriculture!

And let’s be sure to recognize the all-important sidekick, the  cowdog.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We in the northern Rockies already had winter storm warnings and feet of the white stuff. Then it warmed and melted in. After so many years, it is harder to get excited at the first snow, but even mom agrees, this was pretty.

But the warm sunshine is welcomed back.

 

 

 

 

If we weren’t already urgently preparing for winter, this little storm nudges us all to finish up. Most of the hay is in.  All the apples have been picked, with the boys’ annual help.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This was a slim year for apples, though. I watch mom wash them and run them through her slick little slicer, then they are dried or chopped and made into Apple Pie Jam for Sprout. This neat little machine can do all kind of things, separates seeds, cores  and scrap for the chickens, and of course there are always a few juicy bits for this helper.

 

 

You can find one here, and you will have fun with this: https://amzn.to/3j0Hw1R

 

 

 

 

We continue to pick up, clean up, put away. The beautiful colors we had this year pretty much left with the snow and a couple of very cold nights. The horses are looking for a little hay now, and are getting shaggy.

 

 

 

 

 

The cows  are getting shaggy too, I guess, but it is harder to tell with them!

 

Of course, this cowdog has been busier than a pup with 2 tails, and this season of harvest got me thinking. So this week I recognize agriculture and the importance of the people who grow the hay, feed the cows, harvest the wheat and generally keep the world running and everyone fed!

 

 

 

The combines have cleaned the fields and wheat has filled silos and rests in huge golden mounds near the railway. Even in a desperately dry year, hay is baled and hauled, to feed all the critters through another spare winter. To the south, sugar beets are stockpiled, ready for processing. The whole country has its own local harvest, all contributing to the most basic and vital of needs. Here at home, we have canned, dried and frozen all kind of things. We have hay and grain ready to feed the stock all winter.

 

And all the cows have gone home from the high country; with the next cold storm, they’ll have good green hay to keep them warm.

 

Just think about this bounty! I tell you, there are cherries, apples, mint, grains, and alfalfa. There is beef, chicken, lamb. Even if you don’t eat meat, some farmer out there is growing the soybeans that make your meatless meat!

OK, I admit that doesn’t make any sense at all to me, but then I am primarily a carnivore.  I appreciate meat in all forms and, even though I like pumpkin, blueberries, beans and grain, I do not understand leaving out steak!

 

 

Farmers and ranchers work hard, long hours, often with plenty of hurdles and headaches, to produce so much food for us. Mostly it is solitary work with plenty of worries. Of course, they do get to work out in beautiful country and they do have loyal helpers such as myself. None of us would eat without the farmers and ranchers of agriculture! And cowboys! Yes, we still have those out here, my dad was one of the best in his day.

 

 

 

 

None of it would do much good if it didn’t get hauled to market, and we better send a big shout-out to all the truckers, too.

 

 

 

These are  professions of faith, hope and grit.

 

 

 

Kids keep dreaming of being  farmers and cowboys. Of course  life in the country  is the best, and 4-H and FFA helps to start ’em young, too. It is a good way for a human to grow up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now, not all of us Heelers get to live the ranch life. I am blessed to have been chosen out of that shelter so long ago, and get to follow in the pawprints of other great cowdogs on the ranch.

 

 

Nothing beats the happy exhaustion at the end of the day, knowing the cows were put where they needed to go, and I helped make it happen! But even if you don’t have a ranch, you Heelers can still keep your home in order, herd what is needed, patrol cats, kids and all your people, and rest from a job well-done at the end of a busy day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Even if you can’t be the ranch dog, you can sure enjoy a few reminders anytime. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And this is a good time of year to gather a few good books for those longer nights indoors.

 

There are plenty of great cowboy stories: https://amzn.to/3lHKklW

 

or maybe some real history of the west; of course I like this one about an explorer’s dog!                     https://amzn.to/3FEGPVs

 

 

 

Mom loved this story of an old woman who up and bought a horse, then packed up her little dog and rode coast to coast!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of course, the famous cowdog Hank shares his tales and views of ranch life for everyone to experience:

https://amzn.to/3BJDQIS

 

Well I need to get back to work. You know these ranch chores won’t do themselves!

And there is a lot riding on this little speckled cowdog.

 

 “He makes grass grow for the cattle, and plants for people to cultivate—bringing forth food from the earth.”
Psalm 104:14

Older

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I’m a young pup whose had a lot of adventure in a few years.

 

 

 

I came through the desert.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was rescued and flew up north. 

 

 

 

 

 

I took the place of a great cowdog Ladysmith. In fact I’m next in a long line of great cowdogs I’m told.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now I ramrod this mountain ranch, and am learning to lead with courage, yet kindness [just ask the horses – I haven’t chased them needlessly for most of the summer!].

 

 

 

 

 

 

We wrote about old dogs. https://cowdogsadvice.com/2023/10/what-to-do-with-an-old-cowdog/

 

And old trucks, old times and old friends.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It seems like this life is all about getting old.

 

And this is a season of old.

The grass is getting old, turning the hills and meadows that gentle tawny color; soon the trees will hint at fiery fall with a riot of autumn color.

 

 

I walk around here and visit the old tractor,

 

 

old Jeep,

 

 

 

 

 

old trucks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am too polite to call the boss old, but she walks with a limp sometimes, bent over and slower, especially since my old dad went home to heaven – nearly a year ago now.

 

 

 

The rocks we collected to build a new wall, are really quite ancient.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Even the sun this time of year, when it finally rises over the hills and stretches west, is old gold.

 

 

And I, sometimes twitchy and barking , relentlessly yip-yapping at any old thing,

am more often laying in the shade or by the horses, watching in wisdom,

like an old dog.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is an old season – the year is winding down, the expansive seasons are ending, and working hard and fast to complete projects before winter, makes us all ache and feel older.

 

 

Thing is, all those old things? They still work just fine! The tractor and the Jeep have aged like a fine buried bone, their usefulness matching anything new – and with a cool factor that is unmatched.

 

 

 

This season may be long and old, but promises a winter by the fire, watching the boss read good books, getting a fresh bone once in awhile,

 

 

anticipating seed catalogs and a plan to garden and plant more trees.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mom read this to me:

When I have been tested, I will come forth as gold.”  That is what we’re doing now –

working and walking into this amber season.

 

 

Old?

That’s just keeping on, going forward.

Welcome October!

 

Doggone Low Tech

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Well, this old cowdog finally undid the technology that sends out my opinions to the world.

Perhaps it was my dog paws whacking the keys with too much dingo enthusiasm.

I’m told I drink like an alligator and drip a lot – maybe it was a little water.

I’m certain it was not dog hair in the delicate and secret interior of that flat metal suitcase we call a laptop.

 

Nonetheless, the infernal machine alerted the boss to a major cooling fan failure, then set about sabotaging my Heeler tales.

 

So, handicapped by tech failure, I offer a past tale from this low-tech dog:

 

 

Even a cowdog such as myself, who lives a decidedly backwoods rustic life, suffers under plenty of technology. But lately I’ve become a doggone low-tech dog. It’s been a cascade of tech failures that brought me here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

In our very rural country, they’ve finally started repairing the many miles of poor dirt roads. Now I’m a truck enthusiast, but riding these roads is beyond adventure. The deep potholes, pools, rocks and corrugated ridges make staying on the seat a test of balance, muscle and claw, I tell you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They start grading, graveling, trying to make them better. And all the new sharp rocks started the tech cascade; we’ve had several flat tires this month. Two more today!

After that, mom’s tired old Explorer wouldn’t start. After checking battery and solenoid, we were resigned to replacing that infernal starter; thank goodness  Jess got it fixed.  She also cleaned it up , detailed the inside, and put new seat covers on. That old beater hasn’t looked so good in 20 years I hear!

 

 

On our second outing, the water pump went out; fortunately, it did so in town, and Jess and a merciful neighborhood mechanic got it fixed. But tires and internal combustion – this is all pretty low-tech failures.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Well, the modern world doesn’t penetrate our neck of the woods much anyway. I don’t have to have a smartphone in my paw at all times, I don’t wile away my life looking at frivolous stories and social media, commenting on a stranger’s story or looking at crazy cats.  Our use of a cell phone is primarily for safety on the long drive to town, and even then there is no signal in the country air, much of the way.

 

 

 

Well, mom dropped the fragile little thing, and now it’s splintered screen bars any possible use. Oh, you can still call and it will ring – it just can’t respond through it’s delicate broken glass portal.

Now I’m told there was a time when a phone was a sturdy black device, made of unknown hard material that could probably make a decent self-defense weapon also, as well as survive a nuclear bomb – and still keep working. It probably would make an excellent chew toy. They could easily last 20 years and some are still ringing today!

This dainty thing isn’t that.

 

This old Heeler isn’t a big fan of social media. other than putting my antics, adventures and smiling face out there for other cowdogs to enjoy.  And it is fun to see family photos from people far away, some I may never even meet, except in a posted pic.

 

 

 

 

 

But I guess we expect such things to just work when we fire up the computer. This week my social media program just failed. Oh, my page comes up, little more than a static heading. I see I have messages and notifications, but all the clicks in the world display nothing more than a few vague gray blocks.

 

 

 

But when all these things quit working, we find how terribly unimportant they are.

 

 

No, I’m not advocating for a totally tech-less world, but there is plenty to do when worldly invention fails.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here’s my list, things I did just this week:

 

 

Go for a walk in the wet morning grass.

 

 

 

 

Weed the garden. Do it again.

 

Plant, keep planting, think for more places to plant. 

 

 

 

 

 

Send up a prayer of thanks for the rain, because so far we haven’t had to water all that was planted.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sit on the porch and watch the hummingbirds.

 

 

 

 

 

Listen to the birds sing. Watch new ducks – they are funny!

 

 

Lay in the meadow and watch the clouds, looking for the cowdogs in the sky!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Walk along the creek, watch the water and listen to the current dance over the rocks; it is still plenty high with every rain adding more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Herd everything that needs herding, monitor all the critters in my world.

 

 

 

Explore all the changes wrought in the countryside – from flooding water, passing critters, falling branches and trees – imperceptible transformations of time.

 

 

 

 

Talk to others – friends, strangers, anyone you meet. I only practice this when I go for a truck ride – there better not be any strangers out here on my ranch!

 

 

Play with some kids. Never miss a chance to pet and play with a dog.

 

 

Swim and wade.

 

Roll, scratch, chew – yeah!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pray for others. Sing praises for the gift of this life.

 

 

Leave pawprints in the mud, in the day, in the memory, in the swift passage of time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I suppose all that modern technology will all come back eventually, but I’m not waiting for it.

 

If the phone did ring, I wouldn’t hear it. And I have no time to stare at a screen now anyway.

 

 

“We also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character; and character, hope.”  Romans 5:3-4

Abundance and Lack

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A very long time ago, a wise man said

“I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.”

 

 

Well, even as a young dog, I, too, have experienced plenty and need. I don’t remember much about the early times, but I do know a few things, so someone cared once I think. I was fed and trained, doctored, maybe loved. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then something went wrong. Who knows how I ended up wandering the desert?

 

 

 

 

 

 

That was a spare time, with hunger, sadness and sore paws. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was blessed to eventually find my way, through a person who didn’t want me around their place and accused me of attacking their dog [well, that Chihuahua was truly obnoxious!], to a kind lady who said I could be one of her foster dogs.

I didn’t know what that was, but she was nice and seemed to like me. 

 

 

I was fed there, usually plain kibble, but enough of it, and had fresh water. There were a few dogs I got to play with there, toys, and I got walks and attention.

 

 

 

 

 

 

After some months there, then abundance showered down on me!

Or maybe, I flew straight into it, since I took a flight up north. The saints at PilotsNPaws made my miracle happen; you can read about it here:

https://cowdogsadvice.com/2023/03/introducing-redhawk-rose-the-flying-heeler/

 

 

 

Now this is the season of harvest around here – a pretty good one, this year. There are plenty of places with drought, fires, floods –

 

We’ve had the smoke here –

but we have been blessed with plenty of rain at the right time, robust growth, good harvests.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A couple years ago I hear, it was dry and there was no hay within five hundred miles. Everyone worried about a tough winter, lean times. Of course, like always, things changed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have all I need here, and more. I have good food, often with savory bits of beef or chicken.

 

 

 

I look forward to getting special treats and homemade biscuits, and have my own toybox with an assortment of entertainment, all for me.

 

 

 

 

 

I get fresh big bones all the time, too. 

 

 

 

 

 

There are wide meadows to explore, and a little work to do herding critters once in awhile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And I have a pond and creek to play in, and little boys to play with there, too!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is surely a time of abundance for this grateful dog!

I find it doesn’t take much to have enough.

But whether I have a little or a lot, I’m OK, because I know who is looking out for me. You, too!

 

 

 

 

 

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.

 I can do all this through him who gives me strength.   

                                                                                                         Phillipians 4:12-13

 

No Straight Paths

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It is still like summer here, we are blessed with warm sunny days, and nights that only hint at cooler weather.

 

I have been up north many seasons now. I don’t remember anything special about this time of year in the Arizona desert,

but here, it is always an inspiring world for me!

 

 

 

 

 

 

We have rain, 3 days of it, I hear. Yesterday, I felt the breeze cooling down, but it is not cold.

The nights still allow most of the garden to keep growing,

quite a blessing in the Northern Rockies, just past the Autumn Equinox.

The longhorns left today, and most of the cattle are leaving the high country.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There are so many new smells; the woods, dampened in fresh rain, come alive for me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I can tell where the deer pass, where a turkeys feather brushed through the roses, where the hungry birds land on willows by my creek,

 

 

 

 

 

and where the infernal squirrels and chipmunks scamper around MY porch.

 

 

 

 

I go out in the dark now, since dawn comes later; I usually bark to let everyone know there is a Heeler on duty, but I don’t linger too long as I really don’t like the dark.

 

 

There is a lot for me to smell, watch, chase, control. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mom says there are no straight paths anymore. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I don’t think she likes the system I’ve developed to direct and guide her, by walking slightly in front and leaning in, but this is necessary because nipping her heels has been discouraged.

 

 

 

I wait patiently at the door, grring a little, to motivate her to hurry. Apparently my length in the front of the door slows her down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When we go out, I stop on the top of the steps to survey and ensure everything is safe. Usually mom waits patiently for me, but I hear “MOVE” or “Let’s GO” far too often.

 

I am certain MOVE is not my name!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Out and about, I may stop suddenly on the trail to explore a smell or track – this may cause mom to trip over me, but so far she hasn’t fallen or actually stepped on me, so it is OK.

 

 

When she is out working, I usually lay in the shade and keep an eye out for intruders. If it is the UPS intruder, I just bark a lot, but he brings me a biscuit! There are times I help her work because every job goes better when a cowdog sticks her nose into it.

I try to be a blessing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There are times I run zig-zags around the place, for the sheer joy of it. At times I have to furtively weave a trail up the hill, to chase off deer or the neighbors cows, because mom has made it clear that is not my job.

Because I cleverly and casually work my way out, I get in a little bark and chase in spite of her unreasonable rules.

 

 

 

Back in the house,

there is nothing efficient about the kitchen layout. I position myself between the sink and the stove, so mom has to make a wide loop around me as she cooks; if I didn’t, she may forget to have me test dinner.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I also push my pointy nose in next to her when she’s cutting cheese or meat, or I hear the microwave. She has to go around, and I am hard to ignore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So having a Heeler means no one will walk straight paths again, because we are here to guide, influence, turn, protect. Of course I make those extra miles worth it though. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We do all have one straight path however. That is the one us cowdogs take straight to your heart!

 

 

 

“Show me your ways, Lord, teach me your paths. Guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long.” – Psalms 25:4-5

Beary Season Again

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Well a week ago we had a lot of rain – I checked the rain gauge, and it was 2″ in two days! Everything is green again, and it is warm this week.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I lay in the shade and watch mom work like a squirrel getting ready for winter – well, a lot slower and not so twitchy, but as intent.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of course I help too, riding the 4-wheeler as we check the orchard, gather rocks for the foundation wall, put away hoses, and dozens of other jobs, big and small. Because it may be that cruel deception of summer again, but I know winter is coming.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This will be my 4th winter; you may remember I arrived on St Paddy’s Day, but we had a huge blizzard in April, so I really got in another whole winter in my first few weeks here! In case you missed it, here is my introductory story:

https://cowdogsadvice.com/2023/03/introducing-redhawk-rose-the-flying-heeler/

 

 

It seems every critter around knows winter as well as I, and knows it is coming soon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The deer, who have graciously passed flowers, gardens, bushes all summer, have come down from the mountains, a hoard of voracious munching machines, intent on mowing down every green plant they can reach!

 

 

 

They stripped the sunflowers, nipped off Marigold blooms, even barged through garden fences to eat all the green tomatoes!

 

 

Don’t ever believe any growing plant is safe from them! They even eat milkweed pods!

 

Them, and every other critter, come in for a free buffet!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I, however,  am not allowed to run them out of the yard. I do it in stealth though, casually loping past them, staring and veering as I close in – and that usually works. I cannot stop them after dusk or early morning however.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Which brings us to our second season of bears. You remember we had plenty of them in the Spring –

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They are just starting to look around here again.

 

 

They come in for berries. Chokecherries, Hawthorns, Rose-hips and Serviceberries.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And they love apples.

 

 

They again stripped one of our favorite trees, and we wait to pick others, always a gamble between too early [late ripening fruit needs some cold nights], and too late [bears and raccoons!]. Oh, and this year some late frosts ensured there were just a lot fewer apples to go around!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We will soon wrap the little evergreens, because dozens of turkeys will show up and clean needles off the trees, but I think they really are looking to clean up after the chickens and horses.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I guess all critters, wild or not, are on a relentless quest to prepare for winter too.

 

 

It seems getting ready for the leanest season means herding a lot of wild animals, for this little Dingo! Don’t get me started on squirrels, magpies, chipmunks and bobcats!

 

 

I’ll be ready to come in and rest when the snow finally comes, but for now it’s go dog go!

 

 

“I can do all this through him who gives me strength.” – Philippians 4:13

Don’t Fence Me In

by

“Oh give me land lots of land under starry skies above, don’t fence me in.”

 

Those words may have been written about a Heeler, or by a Heeler.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After all, we were made to take to the outback, cover a lot of miles, and love every minute of it.

 

Oh, I love my couch and toys, a warm dinner on a winter night, and my cooling creek when the sun gets hot. A smart canine surely appreciates some benefits of civilization,

 

but we all need freedom.

I was never meant for leash or fence.

 

There is that wide-open big-world anticipation on an early autumn morning, so full of possibilities.

 

Right now I feel it in the early still-dark morning – kinda chilly, full of crisp night smells, but promising sunshine and harvest, no deep dark winter yet. Maybe a good long Indian summer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And this old cowdog is free to savor it all. I may find good shade in the orchard, or trot down to the creek.

 

Sometimes I yip, yap and barky- bark, because I have the freedom to loudly express my opinions! Sometimes it is a quieter conversation, communicated with intense stares and near-silent whines.

 

Don’t fence me in is a Heeler’s theme song.

 

So why do people struggle with accepting God-given freedom, even fight it for self and others?

 

Don’t settle for some distant bureaucrat deciding your freedom by metering out some small crumbs via endless laws.

 

 

Free healthcare, free food, free rent, free education – is not free. And always someone in power decides what it means.

 

 

Freedom is not free either; it has always been fought for and defended by passionate souls.

 

 

Every heart knows and understands how precious it is. Of all the places on earth, this United States counts it priceless.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tomorrow is the 25th anniversary of the biggest assault of freedom here in America.

People of strong character and high moral integrity have understood, defended and fought for it; we are all called to remember, teach history and never let evil destroy it.

 

 

But whoever looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom and continues in it—not forgetting what they have heard but doing it—they will be blessed in what they do.     James 1:25

 

Work with urgency

by

We’re in another holiday weekend, this one called Labor Day I hear. For a cowdog who always keeps busy,  sounds like just a normal day to me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And we have a few surprises to mark the holiday here: Some snow in the high country in August!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The nights are cooler here in the foothills too, but the days warm up enough to get this dog looking for good shade too.

A long time ago, this day was declared a national holiday, the first Monday of September, to recognize the contributions of American workers to the achievements and developments in the nation. The Labor Movement also promoted Labor Sunday, the day before, to focus on the related spiritual and educational growth. 

 

 

 

 

 

Back then, everyone held parades, picnics and community amusements. Nowadays, maybe there aren’t enough workers to put on an event, since it seems like people don’t want to work.  A government that pays people to NOT work is a government preparing for a culture of kept and controlled people, not freedom and the independence to make your own way. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You can trust a working dog when I say, we are all made to work – to sweat and build, to achieve, reach higher, to have a purpose and value.

 

 

 

 

We need to be able to accomplish something, add some good to the world, stand back at the end of the day to see a task done. I’ve been there to know the satisfaction of looking down a long straight fence-line, every post driven true, wire strung tight, built to keep the stock inside and safe. Now that feels good!

 

 

In this season, as long warm days are waning and nights hint of coolness, this weekend marks the unofficial end of summer. There is an urgency I feel now, to use up summer, to get a lot done. We spend a lot of time near or in water, along with cutting weeds, cleaning up brush, and getting outside jobs done all around the ranch. Really, I mostly watch these jobs from the shade.

 

For some, this is a big weekend for camping, and maybe big fish!

 

 

 

 

The boss makes lists of all the “outside” jobs to get done now, and the harvesting and canning continue, too.

 

 

The dehydrator is running on the porch, and sometimes there are sweet crispy treats that I get to sample. Peaches were not my favorite, but I do like beets and beans. Later there will be venison sticks and jerky; I stay close and am the official taste tester then!

 

 

 

 

 

 

The days are near perfect most of the time, warmth and sunshine making the light a precious gem to be absorbed but cannot be saved away like the jewel-colored jars the boss puts up.

 

 

 

The trees have not been frosted into gold yet, but the dry weather is taking away their rich green shades.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The chickens go in earlier every evening.The egg supply is waning.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Soon cattle will be gathered from the high plains and brought down to their home places.

 

 

I spend a lot of time supervising the labor – moving cows, checking on the pullets, sniffing out creek bottom activities each dawn, and generally ramrodding all the work.

 

 

 

This season brings a strengthening urgency, somewhere between the heat of August and the frost of October, as we wring the last pleasure from summer and prepare for winter. Out here it takes a lot to be ready, and harvest is always looking forward.

 

 

We finish projects, clean up, put things away, finishing summer with a late yard sale to clear out clutter. It is a time to balance relishing every last moment of summer, and still work like a cowdog.

 


 

So as we celebrated National Dog Day, then Rainbow Bridge Day, and now Labor Day – be sure to keep busy playing with your dog, too!

 

 

 

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

Matthew 11:28

 

Good Morning

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Regular readers here know that I’ve been working on virtues – those strong charecteristics that raises the bar for this better dog. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Frequently  I meander off as surely as I follow my nose and run the creek bottoms of a morning.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But I’m never far from standing strong, even if they don’t make it to this page every week.

This week though, I’m going to go calm and peaceful [or as much as a Heeler can!]. Because summer is swiftly running toward autumn, and time is slipping away with a speed I cannot match.

 

Oh we have been blessed this year with frequent rain, yet missed most of the wind, hail and floods. Days have been sunny and warm, shifting to thunderous dark clouds and rainfall by evening. And the next day dawns with clear skies again – can it get any better than that?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What a special summer – few are like this. In some way, every day and every season holds unique blessings.

So this week, I gaze on my world every fresh bright morning, grateful for whatever comes, and

just taking in the calm, the peace. I know it won’t last – nothing does. But I know it is here now and I won’t waste one moment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So I listen to birds, watching the hummingbirds hover on feeders, and zip away to opening flowers. I hear the crazy woodpeckers flitting in to their favorite treat, loudly chirping the arrival. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There are hundreds of all sorts of birds, some cussing me out for laying in their territory. Others are the polite guests they should be, just busy gathering seeds.

 

Mornings hold this singular peace that disappears with the drying dew.

 

 

 

The quiet is rare.

The sun lingering behind the eastern ridge is full of promise.

Growing light is anticipation.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Every single morning is a blessing and a gift.

 

And every morning in August is time to celebrate national dog month!

 

 

I don’t know what that may mean for this old cowdog. Maybe extra treats, even a ride for a pup cone!

 

 

 

 

 

 

It should mean no more dogs in shelters, no more puppy mills, no more backyard breeders, and a warm safe home for every canine on earth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do your part this month and always – and never miss a morning!

 

Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love,
    that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.   Psalm 90:14

Time, Goodbye and Old Friends

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The boss lost one of her best friends last week, an old cowboy she had known for 40 years.

They had connected over shaggy cows long ago, and stayed friends through lively conversations about ranching, art, literature, weather, and more shaggy cows.

Even after time and moves changed daily or weekly visits into infrequent phone calls, they would pick up the conversation as if they’d just met over lunch the day before.

 

He loved her art and was her biggest fan and strongest encourager.

 

 

 

 

Their humor, passions and joy aligned. Sometimes family was just along for the ride.

 

 

 

 

 

She always knew a call may come someday, given his health problems and old age. But it was still sad, unexpected and far too soon.

 

It always is.

 

 

 

 

It is one of those times that bring up memories – time, goodbye and old friends –

so, I am revisiting past thoughts on my own old friends here:

 

If you live long enough, you may be blessed with a few old friends. And if you live long enough, you may have to say goodbye to old friends, too. That is the not-quite-right, heart-rending reality of this world, but don’t let it wound the memories the years have given.

 

                                                               Some friends in the jeep

 

 

You know, a cowdog has old friends. Because we are loyal to a fault, steadfast and devoted to those we call our own, we have a rock-solid bond that goes to the cellular level. Death doesn’t merely divide us, then, it splinters us and tears us apart!

Which is worse – for me to leave first, knowing I’m breaking my old cowboy’s heart for the first time, wondering if he can even go on without this cowdog by his side? Or for him to leave me, waiting at the gate, listening with weak ears for that truck to rumble down the road, that never will again?

 

 

 

 

 

We have canine friends, too. When I first came here, I met Cobra and Piper.

Cobra aka “Billy Bob” and Piper

 

 

 

 

 

 

They lived with the daughter Jessie and her husband – this was long before the baby Sprout showed up. Right away, I liked the big hound, but that hyper little Border Collie, Piper, was too much! He and I tangled a few times, two cowdogs who both refused to give ground or back down. Well, after some swift years, my friend Cobra trotted on, across what people call a Rainbow Bridge. I don’t know where that is, but I watched his sad family bury him up in our meadow, in a corner under the aspen, past the lilac hedge.

There he joined Ruger, the great Heeler who ramrodded this outfit before me, and the ashes of Derby and Aurora. I have helped mom plant flowers all over there,

 

 

 

 

and she has put stone markers there for each, too.  Piper and I were friends by then and even worked together to run a few rank cows.

 

 

 

Ruger

 

There is a corner of Dog Hill for cats, too, and I even miss them.

Tigger, Willow, Miss Kitty … there among the white roses and lilies. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Where did all the time go? Now my friend Piper is up there, too; I feel old and tired, my legs ache when I climb the hill to visit them, and I don’t hear the wind in the aspen so well anymore.

Out in the orchard the horses are buried. I chased them once, playing tag in the pasture, sometimes trailing cows with them, keeping them from the gate a few times, too.

 


But I can’t be sad, when I can remember so many happy times with my friends! And we only have today.  I was blessed to be rescued to this place, and to pour out relentless Heeler joy on everyone! I have no doubt there is a heaven and we will run and play there together someday. The God who wants the best for us will let us rejoin old friends, and He is keeping them there with Him until then.

 

 

 

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” – Matthew 5:4

Make Hay While the Sun Shines

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It is high summer here, and time to make hay while the sun shines, as they say. But around here, that is a real job, not just a folksy old saying. And we are especially glad to have hay, as there are year’s of endless drought.

 

 


 

We had plenty of early rain and lots of grass, but of course there always seems to be more rain at the worst possible time of harvest, too.  Seems like a merciful God has a sense of humor, giving us all a chance to take ourselves lightly.

 

This year it has rained daily for weeks. Of course for some, it rained after hay was down. But it is sunny and hot again, and maybe it will dry, be turned and baled and be OK.

 

 

 

 

But we should always have good work to do. It is a necessary purpose for all people and for us working dogs, too. God establishes the work of our hands and paws.

 

Hard Work

In the heart of a cowdog, we have a relentless drive and purpose. I knew from a young age about herding livestock. I have learned a lot and don’t always do it right, but it is also born in my soul, to do the job I was made for.  And I do it with relentless perfection. And sometimes I take it upon myself to decide how and when, overdo it, and chase the wrong horse. Well, I chase the one that runs, of course – the others ignore me!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I guess that is what you would call a work ethic. And everyone needs that, to accomplish something, to contribute to the good of the world, to have a purpose and find reason in what we trade our time for.

I have spent whole days trailing the herd, darting off in the brush to bring back a wayward bovine, trotting around the perimeter, keeping one eye on the boss for marching orders, seeing for myself what needs done and doing it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nothing worth having comes easy, and it comes down to the values we hold inside – diligence, intensity, care, dedication and discipline – practicing all that even when no one is watching.

 

 

 

At the end of the day, I rest in the shade, get a drink and a cool-down in the creek,

 

 

relish a bowl of good food and sleep at last.

 

 

It is good to be tired out from a day like that. Happiness depends on it.

 

 

Everyone Can Do Something

Sprout helps with chores.

I don’t understand why kids grow up without the drive and purpose of hard work.  Everyone can do something, and everyone needs a job. Even Sprout helps out, from pitching hay to the cows to helping his dad drive the skidsteer. His little brother helps too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The boys always feed the cats and I and helps their grandma feed the cows. Already they take care of the henhouse alone, and fix my dinner, too. Even the smallest child knows how to give treats.

 

 

 

 

Easy brings nothing to make the world well or better. Do not depend on someone in Washington to pay your way, because you only will become slave to them.

 

 

 

 

I’m don’t chase cows from dawn to dusk much anymore. Once in awhile, I need to run off those nuisance cows that get into the bosses flowers. I am supreme cowdog then!

 

 

 

 

But it is still my job to watch the perimeter and alert to visitors, critters and assorted rabble-rousers.

 

Sometimes I patrol from the porch

 

It is my job to guard the chickens. Sometimes, it is my job to herd those infernal wild turkeys away from the chicken’s dinner. I am foreman when hay is hauled.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And stacked. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I work to strengthen character, keep up skills and even learn a few new ones, to earn a good meal and sleep in peace still.

 

 

 

 

 

Live and work honorably, with an honest day’s work.  Have a purpose.

 

 

 

Being a joyful Heeler, I’m always ready to celebrate, and put everything I ‘ve got into it, with purpose.

 

 

 

Soon I’ll help Sprout celebrate a birthday, and coming up, I’ll enjoy National Soft Ice Cream Day, and National Bacon Lovers Day!

And I will try to do my best work then too!

 

 

 

Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord.

Colossians 3:23

Weather Grousing

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You know by now this dog is one to be constantly awed by the panorama of the natural world,

welcoming the changing seasons with relish, an infernal optimist who finds something grand and lovely about rain, sleet, even wind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

However, maybe with age, or possibly with the irritability that comes with a long spell of triple digit temperatures, I just want to hole up on the damp ground down by my shady creek.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Or, I’ll use my best vocals to grouse about the weather.

 

 

 

 

Recreational Weather Grousing may well be the next world class sport. Now in the midst of a summer inferno or flood, or drought, you may think that grumbling about the whims of the sky is a fitting topic of conversation in every circle, from daycare sandbox to the Oval office.

 

But I submit to you that a person, a dog, and a dog’s person –  should earn the right to gripe a bit about a capricious climate.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kid’s generally don’t mind what falls – or doesn’t – from the sky, finding entertainment in sun, rain, or snow. Sprout freely admits he loves snow, but is clearly as entertained by sun, rain and  – his favorite – mud.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve noticed that, while kids are seemingly oblivious to jet streams and cold fronts, they are nonetheless storing up records of every storm, so that someday, many years later, they can share historical highlights, when delicate children and grandchildren whine about the cold, the heat, or the long walk to school.

This is usually a sentence that begins “Why, when I was your age…” and ends with an example of how weather was much worse in the old days, as in “…I walked 10 miles to school, in the Blizzard of ’59 – the snow so deep I had to carry my pony!”

So, while they may be gathering ammunition for future weather-grousing, kids have not earned that right yet.

 

 

So age is one way to earn status in the sport of weather-grousing. Everyone, by retirement age, has seen enough wild atmospheric variety to bellyache a little, unless they spent those years in Hawaii, the Caribbean, or the original Garden. Us old cowdogs start to feel it in our bones; as intelligent and clever as we are, I bet we could predict the weather better than Gabriel Fahrenheit [yes, that fahrenheit] or Jim Cantore, if we could speak your language.

 

If you pay attention, some of us can tell you a storm is coming while the sky is still sunny!

 

 

 

 

Ranchers and farmers are born into a highly respected class of weather-grousers.

 

 

 

 

Mom learned this from a good friend, who ran a never-summer ranch on the west slopes of the Bridger Mountains. Living close to the earth, they keep an eye on the sky, and the payments and punishments that are hurled toward their fields are intimate.

 

 

 

 

Now understand that this old cowdog is not whining about the weather. Recreational weather grousing is definitely not a generalized constant complaint, but carefully crafted observation of the finer details outside.

 

If you have lived through what the popular media would call a “major weather event,” you get to tell stories and fuss a bit, though in these end-days of diverse weather in diverse places – hurricanes, tornadoes, firestorms and base-ball hail become just another near-death tale.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After you reach old age, however, these stories can be repeated continuously, having become historical lore.

The boss remembers the Wisconsin Tornado of 1959, though mostly from hearing the stories from those then Senior Weather-Grousers and seeing films of it annually as a warning during tornado season.

Just a couple of weeks ago, we had some serious hail here in the foothills, something that rarely happens. It was not as big as my retrieving balls, but as big as a golf ball I’m sure, sounding like cannon balls on the metal roof.

This month there has been record-breaking highs, hail, inches of rain, and lightning caused fires all around.

If we didn’t have to weather the weather, conversation would virtually cease, as this is the main icebreaker and most common topic of discussion. If we lived in a perfectly harmonious environment, could we fully appreciate the delightful creation of a spectacularly powerful Creator?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Would we then believe that we – mere mortals –  had control over our world?

 

 

 

 

Watching hail wipe out a garden, on its way to pummel the car…waking to three feet of pristine snow…glorying in a long-awaited downpour – keeps us humble and gives us something to talk about.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mercifully, in our little valley, we aren’t on fire or coping with floods right now; people in those predictaments don’t have time for weather grousing, but sure will have some stories to tell later. Weather grousing should always be seasoned with plenty of prayer.

 

 

Right now, I’d invite you to join me in a rousing bout of weather-grousing – but it’s just too dang hot!

 

 

“The sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.”

Psalm 121:6