Southbound on 37, the sun rising on one side, the stars still piercing the windshield on the other and I pop the lid off. The steam rolls over my face and the smell fills me up like a warm soup. Coffee tastes better on Thursday. And for some reason the smell hit me square in the sniffer.
It didn't stop there. The entire day was filled with it. Have you ever smelled a yearling foals breath - strangely fresh, and it almost speaks to you. Or, Durasect? Most of you won't know that it's a biting-fly and tick repellent for cattle and horses. The smell is, well, unique to say the least.
And horse hide. It's like a babies skin. It smells the same every time. You can't describe it, because it only smells like it smells. Nothing compares.
The afternoon found us in the bottom of the Medio Creek.
Water Gaps.
Rain is good. But they are always followed by a good dose of water gap fixing. As the business end of an ax meets the top of a steel post, plenty of heat is generated. Maybe it's the heat. Or maybe it's just the t-post letting the ground protest our unceasing drive to have everything our way. In any case, it smells. Not unlike the branding iron on flesh, it has a very unique aroma. Very, very faint and just as brief, but it was there. Just to let you know of it's disapproval.
Once we got the gap back up, we headed back to the headquarters. Weaning colts and working mares filled our morning. Things are still pretty wet down there, so the water gap fixing closed up our afternoon and we shut down a little early.
I stopped by my grandparents house and found a wonderful surprise. More peppers - straight from the garden and zipped up into two Ziploc bags waiting for me to take them home. I couldn't resist. I lifted the bag, unzipped it and lifted some more. Then I opened it and plunged my head into the bag like we did in the water at the creek when we got to hot. Wow. That smell is one of a kind. Regardless of the fact that I definitely breached the pepper's personal space, as was made apparent by my watering eyes and choked up throat, there was no regret.
The bouquet, though not from a fine wine, or liqueur, was bold, earthy and unique in it's own spactac-ulocity-ness. ;)
Everyone has a lineup of fragrances that could tell the story of their lives. The smells that, together, can describe why you are you. Find them. Why do I know exactly what a trimmed hoof smells like? And the inside of the Zachary Engineering Building's server room?
Don't wake up and smell the roses. Wake up and smell those things that you've been put here to smell. Inspiration will overtake you.
Showing posts with label Life Story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life Story. Show all posts
Friday, October 16, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
The Times
Not even three weeks ago Bee County was right in the middle of one of the worst droughts in history. Not recent history. History. Period.
Comparisons were made to the drought of the 50's and there was even some video covering the situation that appeared on CNN. Now, I'm not saying we're out of it yet, because we're not yet. But, things are definitely changing.
Last Thursday we just turned cattle out. We shaped up a set of heifers at the main pens and then turned them out. We penned a set of bulls and cut one old shipper out of the group and then turned them out, too. Mick and Dick eased down to the arena and turned the roping cattle out. That picture above is of them letting the dogs work the roping steers a little before heading back to the ranch. It's wet. J.M. even decided to turn out some cattle he had trapped that were supposed to have gotten worked that afternoon. It's real wet. ;)
Watching it rain is something that truly moves me - the sound, the smell, the knowledge of what it does for the country I love... and that I'm certain loves me. It's unexplainable.
And then we watched the grass grow. Really, you could almost watch it grow. It's always been said that South Texas country is strong country. It comes back fast after a dry spell. And the folks who live down there have had plenty of dry spells to know what the country does after getting a little drink. It's fascinating.
Dirt.
Dirt is what this post has to do with "The Times". There are a couple of things that have come to me lately for various reasons:
- There are no good times.
- There are no bad times.
There are just times.
I always thought of this verse - Genesis 3:19 ...for dust you are and to dust you will return. - as a command meant to keep you grounded. (no pun intended) However, remembering that we are dust has recently brought encouragement.
During droughts, the dirt just waits. There's no complaining about the lack of water, seeds, nitrogen, etc. There's no wishing it were sand in Tahiti instead of dirt in Bee County. Dirt waits. It does it's job of providing a floor for the world. And it waits.
And then it rains. There's absolutely no time wasted. Dirt produces like it's never had a chance to produce before. It gives it everything it's got. Weeds? Yep get to growing. Grass? Yep. You, too, get to growing. There's no complaining about growing corn instead of wheat. Or pineapples. Or, whatever. Our creator delivers us exactly what we need - when we need it.
So don't think of the bad times as bad times. You know what? You need those times to become the person you need to be tomorrow, or next year. And it works both ways. Don't think of the good times as good times. You simply need those times to become the person you need to be tomorrow, or next year, as well.
It's hard to wait. It's hard to understand that a "bad time" purpose may be just as important as a "good time" purpose. That's why it's important to embrace the times. Period. Because guess what? More droughts are coming. And more rain.
Friday, September 11, 2009
For love of the game...
The pitch came on the rise, probably around 60-70 miles per hour. The batter, though, was focused, dug in and started to bring his hips around. His shoulders followed and the swing brought his hands through to rip one straight for the hole between second base and the second baseman.
Shortstop was idle. On the balls of his feet and prepared to go in any direction... quickly, he had his glove up, eyes up and spirits up.
The second baseman broke for the ball and made the stop. Shortstop, as well as the base runner on first, had already made their break for the second base bag. A quick toss from the second baseman sent the ball floating somewhere above second base rather than sailing into center field.
The shortstop deftly stepped behind the bag while catching the ball, drug his foot across it and fired it back to first and never broke stride.
Two down. Inning's over.
Sounds like a routine double play for any shortstop. Although, they make it look much easier than it is. But this wasn't just any shortstop playing ball. It was my Dad. And he's 57 years old.
Every time I tell a buddy that Dad had a game, they're incredulous. Hell most of them have been telling me that they're too old to keep playing and most of them are in their thirties.
Morgan's refusal to slowdown is becoming somewhat of a local legend. He has friends he grew up playing baseball with that go to the park to watch their boys play against Morgan. And you should hear the trash talk flyin'. ;)
He watched me play ball all the way through high school. But my days in Little League came rushing at me while I sat in the stands last Sunday morning.
Oh, how our perspective changes. I can't begin to count how many games my Dad and I spent in the reverse roll - him sitting in the stands hoping that the double play goes smoothly and me busting my rear trying to turn it. It was about time I was on the other side - paying back some of the support he had offered me so many times before.
That field was covered with men who truly - truly - understood and appreciated the game.
Little Leaguers are just figuring out the importance of winning. The group that I had the privilege of watching... was just starting to forget.
Somewhere in the middle we get focused on the wrong parts of life. Take a deep breath. Enjoy the game.
Shortstop was idle. On the balls of his feet and prepared to go in any direction... quickly, he had his glove up, eyes up and spirits up.
The second baseman broke for the ball and made the stop. Shortstop, as well as the base runner on first, had already made their break for the second base bag. A quick toss from the second baseman sent the ball floating somewhere above second base rather than sailing into center field.
The shortstop deftly stepped behind the bag while catching the ball, drug his foot across it and fired it back to first and never broke stride.
Two down. Inning's over.
Sounds like a routine double play for any shortstop. Although, they make it look much easier than it is. But this wasn't just any shortstop playing ball. It was my Dad. And he's 57 years old.
Every time I tell a buddy that Dad had a game, they're incredulous. Hell most of them have been telling me that they're too old to keep playing and most of them are in their thirties.
Morgan's refusal to slowdown is becoming somewhat of a local legend. He has friends he grew up playing baseball with that go to the park to watch their boys play against Morgan. And you should hear the trash talk flyin'. ;)
He watched me play ball all the way through high school. But my days in Little League came rushing at me while I sat in the stands last Sunday morning.
Oh, how our perspective changes. I can't begin to count how many games my Dad and I spent in the reverse roll - him sitting in the stands hoping that the double play goes smoothly and me busting my rear trying to turn it. It was about time I was on the other side - paying back some of the support he had offered me so many times before.
That field was covered with men who truly - truly - understood and appreciated the game.
Little Leaguers are just figuring out the importance of winning. The group that I had the privilege of watching... was just starting to forget.
Somewhere in the middle we get focused on the wrong parts of life. Take a deep breath. Enjoy the game.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
God Sucks?
Sometimes life throws things at us that we aren't even close to being ready for. They're seemingly out of the blue, or left field, or nowhere... Or out of wherever life's temptations, trials and tribulations come from.
Mellow Yellow was two years old. He could turn around pretty good, he loved to stop and he was gentle, gentle, gentle. You could already heel steers on him out of the box. And head steers and log them off while pen roping. This all sounds like alot for a two-year-old - It is. He was smart. He learned everything the first time and didn't forget much of anything. He was just easy. He was laid back. He was Mellow. He died August 27, 2009.
This is Iceman. His real name is Pay Days Mr Quincy. He was a five year old stallion that was just getting finished up as a calf roping horse. He was solid. He was a statue in the box, ran to the hole every trip and man he could really stop. He stopped so smooth that sometimes you couldn't even tell if he was stopping yet... and then he got to the end of his stop and you knew it, quick. He was just taking the chance to show off a little bit until it was time to bring everything to a screeching halt. He won third in the Open Calf Roping at the very first show he was ever entered. In his second show, he won it. He died September 4, 2009.
Barely one week apart the only two stallions in training here were gone. And horses here don't get to continue being stallions unless they're just a little bit different than most nice horses. These guys were special. Their temperament, appearance, and ability set them apart. So what the hell is the deal?
Sometime between the fourth and fifth of September, so just a day or two ago, Barbie opened her chest up while turned out. I've walked the pasture three times and can't find the place where it happened. It should be pretty obvious since her injury is extensive. Luckily, the vet got her sown up very well and she should be just fine. But that's not what concerns me. What concerns me is Who's next?.
Fr. Ed delivered a message a while back that reminded us that we need to seek a more personal relationship with Our Lord Jesus Christ. During this message he talked about being angry with Him. Anger towards God is not condemnable, it's completely normal behavior for any healthy relationship he said.
Well, then right now I'm pretty damn normal. I was furious. Anger consumed me. The expertise behind the recommendations for the feed we chose, the resources my family utilized to keep these horses in training, the time I spent with these horses everyday, the majesty that these animals project and respect that they deserve... meant nothing. The injured filly will hopefully be back in action soon, but two - in one week - left us and will never be seen again. What the hell kind of purpose, meaning, lessons, etc. can you garner from that?
I'll admit it. I wanted to title this post "God Sucks!" rather than God Sucks?, but you know what, God is the only pure thing we can find. It's not our job to understand. I'll repeat that, because I'm still working to wrap my head around it. It's not our job to understand.
He was impressive to say the least. He was unlike any other. He was steady, always. His demeanor never ceased to amaze me, regardless of others you put around him. And now he's dead. This is no longer about horses. It's Christ. God lost his only son. Does that mean God sucks? How could it? I can not even start to imagine that kind of pain. Surely if it weren't necessary, it would not have happened. I am beginning to appreciate the fact that God does not create situations so much as He utilizes those situations. His purpose requires certain things that we will never understand, but we aren't expected to.
We were created in God's image. God is a worker. We are created to be active. And God blessed each and every one of us with passions and talents for certain things in order to guide us in choosing what it is that will be blessed by our actions. So we are expected to persevere. To Love. To Work. To Connect. To Continue.
Life is rarely warm and fuzzy. And sometimes it hurts... alot, and is utterly unexplainable. But that simply means that sometimes life's circumstances suck. God does not. Rest peacefully knowing that it's OK to be angry with Him. Then, take a deep breath and instead of asking Why? ask What's Next?.
Mellow Yellow was two years old. He could turn around pretty good, he loved to stop and he was gentle, gentle, gentle. You could already heel steers on him out of the box. And head steers and log them off while pen roping. This all sounds like alot for a two-year-old - It is. He was smart. He learned everything the first time and didn't forget much of anything. He was just easy. He was laid back. He was Mellow. He died August 27, 2009.
This is Iceman. His real name is Pay Days Mr Quincy. He was a five year old stallion that was just getting finished up as a calf roping horse. He was solid. He was a statue in the box, ran to the hole every trip and man he could really stop. He stopped so smooth that sometimes you couldn't even tell if he was stopping yet... and then he got to the end of his stop and you knew it, quick. He was just taking the chance to show off a little bit until it was time to bring everything to a screeching halt. He won third in the Open Calf Roping at the very first show he was ever entered. In his second show, he won it. He died September 4, 2009.
Barely one week apart the only two stallions in training here were gone. And horses here don't get to continue being stallions unless they're just a little bit different than most nice horses. These guys were special. Their temperament, appearance, and ability set them apart. So what the hell is the deal?
Sometime between the fourth and fifth of September, so just a day or two ago, Barbie opened her chest up while turned out. I've walked the pasture three times and can't find the place where it happened. It should be pretty obvious since her injury is extensive. Luckily, the vet got her sown up very well and she should be just fine. But that's not what concerns me. What concerns me is Who's next?.
Fr. Ed delivered a message a while back that reminded us that we need to seek a more personal relationship with Our Lord Jesus Christ. During this message he talked about being angry with Him. Anger towards God is not condemnable, it's completely normal behavior for any healthy relationship he said.
Well, then right now I'm pretty damn normal. I was furious. Anger consumed me. The expertise behind the recommendations for the feed we chose, the resources my family utilized to keep these horses in training, the time I spent with these horses everyday, the majesty that these animals project and respect that they deserve... meant nothing. The injured filly will hopefully be back in action soon, but two - in one week - left us and will never be seen again. What the hell kind of purpose, meaning, lessons, etc. can you garner from that?
I'll admit it. I wanted to title this post "God Sucks!" rather than God Sucks?, but you know what, God is the only pure thing we can find. It's not our job to understand. I'll repeat that, because I'm still working to wrap my head around it. It's not our job to understand.
He was impressive to say the least. He was unlike any other. He was steady, always. His demeanor never ceased to amaze me, regardless of others you put around him. And now he's dead. This is no longer about horses. It's Christ. God lost his only son. Does that mean God sucks? How could it? I can not even start to imagine that kind of pain. Surely if it weren't necessary, it would not have happened. I am beginning to appreciate the fact that God does not create situations so much as He utilizes those situations. His purpose requires certain things that we will never understand, but we aren't expected to.
We were created in God's image. God is a worker. We are created to be active. And God blessed each and every one of us with passions and talents for certain things in order to guide us in choosing what it is that will be blessed by our actions. So we are expected to persevere. To Love. To Work. To Connect. To Continue.
Life is rarely warm and fuzzy. And sometimes it hurts... alot, and is utterly unexplainable. But that simply means that sometimes life's circumstances suck. God does not. Rest peacefully knowing that it's OK to be angry with Him. Then, take a deep breath and instead of asking Why? ask What's Next?.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Perseverance Thursday
Consider it all joy, my brothers, when you encounter various trials, for you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. ~James 1:2-4
DAMMITT!
I don't want my faith tested! Not at what seems to be the expense of others. Nor will pretend to have a clue regarding why we are subjected to varying decrees of tribulation.
But, I do know this - Our Lord does not subject us to evil, but there's no reason He can't use every circumstance for accomplishing His purpose.
So shit happens. Isn't that the bumper sticker Forest Gump came up with ;)?
But, like Father Ed likes to say, "God is in the mess."
I for one am going to take tomorrow to dig around in it. Everyone has a mess to deal with. Most of us would choose our own, too, if we got to comparing. But slow down and find God in there. He's there. And I'm gonna find Him.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Comedic Relief Thursday
This is the most water Bee County has seen in months - maybe a year.
Hauling water is usually not anything to get worked up about. We are used to the wind stopping and some of the wells breaking during this part of the year. In fact, we've got a water trailer designed specifically for the task. But, here's the rub - my uncles have been hauling water for several months now and Dad has started recently as well. Half of the day is wasted on hard work and you get finished and realize you've done nothing.
Actually, you've kept the animals alive, but as far as getting things accomplished, you've done nothing. It's frustrating work.
As you've probably deduced by now, Thursday we hauled water. And fixed troughs. That's Morgan in the picture and for you wise guys out there, we had already done part of the job together and he told me that there was no use in us both getting soaked this second time. So I'm not just hanging out annoying him with camera clicks while he sweats it out in 104 degree weather fixing a water trough. Well, I am, but he told me not to wade in. And hey, I just got a super sweet new rugged camera so what was I gonna do? :)
This kind of monotonous work reminds me of how important it is to keep things light hearted. Enter Mick and Dick. They weren't with us on the water trip, but I can promise you that most of their water trips are fun. Fun!?!? Yep. They have to be or you'll go crazy. The trip to town for lunch was vintage Mick and Dick. My cousin, Kelley, met Matthew McConaughey at the river a little while back.
Here is Kelley checking out Mick's new phone. He's probably about to show Kelley Mathew's phone number. Then, he'll probably call me - and I'm sitting right there. He does it to me all of the time. It's aggravating... and hilarious. Anyway, Mick and Dick said they already new McConaughey. And Kid Rock. The funny part about it is that they feed off of one another and if you didn't know them (and in some cases even if you did ;) ) you'd swear on your life that they did know McConaughey and Kid Rock... Very Well.
Well they don't, but it sure is fun learning about the stars through the fantastically detailed fabrications of Mick and Dick O'Brien.
The fun didn't stop there. Poor Kelley. He's really becoming an asset down there and so we have to give him a hard time. Well, we would anyway, but it's fun knowing that he's becoming a good worker. Anyway, he's dating (oh sorry, "talking to" according to Kelley) a young lady by the name of Kate.
So, naturally we heard the quick-to-be-sung and surprisingly good rendition of the chorus of Ian Tyson's Navajo Rug over and over again from a very fulfilled Mick and Dick. They sing surprisingly well and the moments they choose to launch into song is always timed perfectly. Here's the song in case you need to hear the chorus line to know what's going on.
[audio:http://www.spiritualhorseman.com/audio/Ian-Tyson-Navajo-Rug.mp3]
The day winded down early for me since I was tasked with delivering a mare to Boerne that evening. I got loaded up and headed north around 3:30pm.
Ranch work is always difficult and often frustrating. And like my MANY long drives, it's lonely. But, as long as there's a random thought about how Mick and Dick sold a horse to Kid Rock's cousin in Sacramento, or how Eye Yih Yih, Katy sounds being sung from two twins in South Texas just as Kelley was about to try and tell a story... Everything else seems a little bit better.
Here's to making fun of the mess in life. You may as well smile, 'cause it can always be worse.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Why did you get married?
The sparkle had barely begun to be noticed as Our Lord painted the sky in celebration of another perfect day. And as it ended something else begun.
They were holding hands and looking toward the pastor as he spoke. Neither, however, were focused on the message but on the new adventure they were embarking on this evening. But as the pastor spoke, many began to reflect upon their own relationships - including the two being married I'm sure.
He shared applicable scripture. He shared wonderful anecdotes. And then he closed.
I visited with countless couples regarding why they get married. I'm sure you have a great reason for why you got married. Maybe you couldn't put your finger on just one reason. Well, God has a plan for you. And I'll tell you why you married her.
Because you've gone as far as you can go without her.
They were holding hands and looking toward the pastor as he spoke. Neither, however, were focused on the message but on the new adventure they were embarking on this evening. But as the pastor spoke, many began to reflect upon their own relationships - including the two being married I'm sure.
He shared applicable scripture. He shared wonderful anecdotes. And then he closed.
I visited with countless couples regarding why they get married. I'm sure you have a great reason for why you got married. Maybe you couldn't put your finger on just one reason. Well, God has a plan for you. And I'll tell you why you married her.
Because you've gone as far as you can go without her.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Good Intention Pavement
Humility is important. Any time Our Lord gives you a chance to realize you're not as wonderful as you think you are, be thankful.This picture is of a group of soldiers serving in Afghanistan. They have just received a care package from Texas. Actually, it's from yours truly. And my wife of course. Well, this picture, along with a very appreciative email from Stoney leads me to several conclusions.
- Chips may stand the heat in the desert, but they won't handle being shipped 7,967 miles to Afghanistan.
- Velveeta. That's really all I need to say. Seriously!?!?! We sent Velveeta to Afghanistan? Yep, and it doesn't ship well my friends.
- Military personnel are too quick and generous with their appreciation. ;)
Also, a close family friend of ours, whom I'll allow the opportunity to save face, was recently, um.... misguided by Ranch Ethics Thursday. Like I said, he is a very close family friend, so I'm not going to miss the opportunity to rib him a little.
Recently, a stray bull found himself at home on this individual's property. Now, I don't want you guessing who this is too easily. But, here's a hint - the town rhymes with Seguin. Texas. ;)
Anyway, in an effort to keep this short, the cattle got penned. The bull was sorted off. This gentleman is no stranger to cattle. Or horses. However, this bull just wasn't taking the chute as intended. So in true matador fashion, our friend went at him a little harder.
And was subsequently power-housed.
Mauled. And pulverized like Chef Emeril Lagasse's mojito mint leaves until he was unconscious. ( the only reason this is being shared now is because we know he is OK - no injuries )
The intention to return a bull to his neighbor, ended in the hospital. But, hey the wrecks keep us young right? I wish I could say I have never done something like that.
The old proverb is that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Neither of these stories are exactly "road to hell" material. Not even close.
But, it would probably be easier to stay on track if we pulled our heads out once in a while. ;)
Monday, July 27, 2009
Perfect Fit Thursday
Activity on Thursday morning started a little later this past week since my lovely bride was going to the ranch with me and my brother was celebrating his birthday that afternoon. We loaded up and headed south that morning and stopped through Jourdanton on the way to get some Sutton Super Novas. Those are heel ropes and John (my brother) and I just happen to use the same kind and lay of heel ropes. I picked up several so I could give him one for his birthday. Yes, I got his gift the day of the party. So sue me.
Anyway, what does a birthday have to do with less Thursday activity?
Well, the ranchers know these things, but it's hard for most other folks to understand the scheduling habits of ranchers. It's also just as hard for ranchers to understand the scheduling habits of everybody else. Ranchers schedule jobs, or projects, and everybody else schedules hours, or days. When you have a yearling run off, or a windmill breakdown, or a fence down, or... the list goes on forever, the five o'clock whistle means exactly jack squat. On the other hand, most other folks schedule their hours. If you have a business meeting with someone at 3:30pm and you're busy completing a job, well it may the last job you get to complete.
Well, if J.M. scheduled some cattle work on Thursday afternoon, it would very likely be completed by 5:30pm. That was when the party was scheduled to start. However, it was also fairly likely that we wouldn't be back by then. Cattle sometimes decide to have plans other than the ones we decide upon. Don't get me wrong, they're going wherever we want them to go (most of the time ;) ) but it may take 30 minutes or it may take 5 hours.
So, when important family events are scheduled, we don't even bother. The day was filled with riding horses anyway, since we had a horse buyer coming the next day. We probably had twenty or so caught up that we thought may fit.
Twenty!? Well, yea there were about twenty. No they would not all be shown to the buyer. We get up the ones we think will fit the buyer's needs and then we ride them to get a better feel for where they are. The ones that fit what we feel like the buyer is looking for get to be caught up the next day and tried by the buyer. When you're picking up a horse, the most important thing is fit. You can have a great rider and a great horse, but if the fit is wrong, it will not work.
The same type of thing happened to me when I was looking for my brother's birthday gift. I was all over Bexar county looking for a dealer that carried Suttons. I found a couple and swung about fifteen to twenty ropes. I almost talked myself into buying one, but it just wasn't quite right. And ropes aren't cheap these days. After visiting with a friend of mine, I discovered that Suttons factory was only about twenty minutes from my house. Eureka!
That's why Tonni and I decided to leave a little later. We waited for Sutton's to open and then we stopped through on the way down to the ranch. I stepped in the plant and there was a rack of maybe a thousand ropes. I told Gary Sutton what I was looking for and he grabbed one off the rack and yanked the ties off of it. I took a couple of swings.
That was it. That was the rope. I knew in an instant. There were hundreds other ropes in there that were good ropes. But this one fit me. And John uses the same one as well. So, like I said, i bought several and headed out.
I think our spiritual lives are just like this. Some folks go to church every day. Some never go to church. I am in no way condoning not going to church. But, you have to consider the prayer life of others before you go criticizing their lifestyle. Ranchers sometimes criticize the planning efforts of others when the fact is, they could benefit from a better scheduling routine. Many people think ranchers just don't plan anything and do whatever they want when they want. The fact is, they could learn from the way ranchers pay attention to the world around them and take care of issues as they come up. Then work diligently until the job is done.
What it all boils down to is what fits for you. Do you schedule prayer time? Do you pray as needed? Do you think there may be reason for both?
Do you look for how Christ is working in others' lives? How do you fit in there?
Do you look for Christ in your own life? Where does He fit?
Anyway, what does a birthday have to do with less Thursday activity?
Well, the ranchers know these things, but it's hard for most other folks to understand the scheduling habits of ranchers. It's also just as hard for ranchers to understand the scheduling habits of everybody else. Ranchers schedule jobs, or projects, and everybody else schedules hours, or days. When you have a yearling run off, or a windmill breakdown, or a fence down, or... the list goes on forever, the five o'clock whistle means exactly jack squat. On the other hand, most other folks schedule their hours. If you have a business meeting with someone at 3:30pm and you're busy completing a job, well it may the last job you get to complete.
Well, if J.M. scheduled some cattle work on Thursday afternoon, it would very likely be completed by 5:30pm. That was when the party was scheduled to start. However, it was also fairly likely that we wouldn't be back by then. Cattle sometimes decide to have plans other than the ones we decide upon. Don't get me wrong, they're going wherever we want them to go (most of the time ;) ) but it may take 30 minutes or it may take 5 hours.
So, when important family events are scheduled, we don't even bother. The day was filled with riding horses anyway, since we had a horse buyer coming the next day. We probably had twenty or so caught up that we thought may fit.
Twenty!? Well, yea there were about twenty. No they would not all be shown to the buyer. We get up the ones we think will fit the buyer's needs and then we ride them to get a better feel for where they are. The ones that fit what we feel like the buyer is looking for get to be caught up the next day and tried by the buyer. When you're picking up a horse, the most important thing is fit. You can have a great rider and a great horse, but if the fit is wrong, it will not work.
The same type of thing happened to me when I was looking for my brother's birthday gift. I was all over Bexar county looking for a dealer that carried Suttons. I found a couple and swung about fifteen to twenty ropes. I almost talked myself into buying one, but it just wasn't quite right. And ropes aren't cheap these days. After visiting with a friend of mine, I discovered that Suttons factory was only about twenty minutes from my house. Eureka!
That's why Tonni and I decided to leave a little later. We waited for Sutton's to open and then we stopped through on the way down to the ranch. I stepped in the plant and there was a rack of maybe a thousand ropes. I told Gary Sutton what I was looking for and he grabbed one off the rack and yanked the ties off of it. I took a couple of swings.
That was it. That was the rope. I knew in an instant. There were hundreds other ropes in there that were good ropes. But this one fit me. And John uses the same one as well. So, like I said, i bought several and headed out.
I think our spiritual lives are just like this. Some folks go to church every day. Some never go to church. I am in no way condoning not going to church. But, you have to consider the prayer life of others before you go criticizing their lifestyle. Ranchers sometimes criticize the planning efforts of others when the fact is, they could benefit from a better scheduling routine. Many people think ranchers just don't plan anything and do whatever they want when they want. The fact is, they could learn from the way ranchers pay attention to the world around them and take care of issues as they come up. Then work diligently until the job is done.
What it all boils down to is what fits for you. Do you schedule prayer time? Do you pray as needed? Do you think there may be reason for both?
Do you look for how Christ is working in others' lives? How do you fit in there?
Do you look for Christ in your own life? Where does He fit?
Friday, July 17, 2009
Personal Integrity and it's relation to rural living
Play First - if you have trouble, email me - jamesobrien@ranchforeman.com
[audio:http://www.spiritualhorseman.com/audio/louis-about-sis.mp3]
Sis
1968 - 2009
Kid Horse - Cow Horse - Friend
Sis wasn't Tonni's (my wife) first horse, but she was that one special horse in her life. Sis started out in the wilds of New Mexico on an Indian Reservation and came into Tonni's life when she was nine. She taught her more than she cares to recount about horses, horsemanship, rodeo, competition, etc. The second line in this post is not a typo. She was 41 years old when she died Monday. I've been in the horse world all of my life and I've never heard of a horse living such a long time.
What always makes me smile, though, is how animals like this teach us more than just the standard animal-husbandry-feed-and-medicine type of stuff. They move people. If you haven't had a special animal in your life get one. If that one craps in the bed, well, get rid of it and give it another try. ;)
Too many people in our society these days miss out on the character building lessons that the care, love and loss of animals teaches us. Listen to the voice of the man in the recording at the top of this post. It's Tonni's Dad. Sis was at his place when she died. That man has seen many animals die and you can still hear the emotion in his voice when he talks about this one. That emotion is for Sis, it's for Tonni, it's even for Louis. I'm sure this brought memories of one of those special animals he had in his life. They impact so many parts of our lives.
And here's what Tonni's best friend Becca Chalk Burns had to say:
If you choose to be around animals, you may be lucky enough to get one of those special ones in your life. A dog, a cat, a horse, cow, whatever... a giraffe or zebra. Doesn't matter.
What matters is that those who grow up with animals come to understand what responsibility really means at a very young age. And loss. They may get the old "Buster-ran-away" speech when they're two or so, but then comes the death speech at a very young age. The beautiful part is that they also become entwined in God's creation the way God intended - Harmoniously.
Sometimes, amidst the music of life, comes the verse that touches our hearts in ways words can not explain. And we love.
Just because we know that every song ends doesn't mean that it wasn't worth the listen.
[audio:http://www.spiritualhorseman.com/audio/louis-about-sis.mp3]
Sis1968 - 2009
Kid Horse - Cow Horse - Friend
Sis wasn't Tonni's (my wife) first horse, but she was that one special horse in her life. Sis started out in the wilds of New Mexico on an Indian Reservation and came into Tonni's life when she was nine. She taught her more than she cares to recount about horses, horsemanship, rodeo, competition, etc. The second line in this post is not a typo. She was 41 years old when she died Monday. I've been in the horse world all of my life and I've never heard of a horse living such a long time.
What always makes me smile, though, is how animals like this teach us more than just the standard animal-husbandry-feed-and-medicine type of stuff. They move people. If you haven't had a special animal in your life get one. If that one craps in the bed, well, get rid of it and give it another try. ;)
Too many people in our society these days miss out on the character building lessons that the care, love and loss of animals teaches us. Listen to the voice of the man in the recording at the top of this post. It's Tonni's Dad. Sis was at his place when she died. That man has seen many animals die and you can still hear the emotion in his voice when he talks about this one. That emotion is for Sis, it's for Tonni, it's even for Louis. I'm sure this brought memories of one of those special animals he had in his life. They impact so many parts of our lives.
And here's what Tonni's best friend Becca Chalk Burns had to say:
Oh Tonni, I wish I had the words. A lifetime with our best friends is never enough. I know with all my heart that God takes and keeps those who watch over our hearts. Without a doubt he's got those three in his herd. As for ever finding another, well that's an impossible find. You & I both know there's only one Sis & Poncho. We didn't find them - they found us. It was out of our love for them that we found ourselves & in that defined our character & most of all our hearts. No other horse can help mold you as Sis did. God knew we needed them just as much as they needed us. So no, there will never be another little sister. She's got your heart like no other. There are others out there they may come close to stealing your heart but only one will hold it ... love you always - Chalka
If you choose to be around animals, you may be lucky enough to get one of those special ones in your life. A dog, a cat, a horse, cow, whatever... a giraffe or zebra. Doesn't matter.
What matters is that those who grow up with animals come to understand what responsibility really means at a very young age. And loss. They may get the old "Buster-ran-away" speech when they're two or so, but then comes the death speech at a very young age. The beautiful part is that they also become entwined in God's creation the way God intended - Harmoniously.
Sometimes, amidst the music of life, comes the verse that touches our hearts in ways words can not explain. And we love.
Just because we know that every song ends doesn't mean that it wasn't worth the listen.
Monday, July 6, 2009
We are His Church... and Warriors
"We weren’t a very impressive group, four men who seemingly had two things in common: 1) we were Christian, and 2) we were soldiers."
*** Vibrations ***
*** Vibrations ***
My phone was ringing, although I've long since spit the bit out on these retarded ringtones, so my phone was actually vibrating.
(210) 925-1110
I showed it to my wife.
"You know this number?" I asked.
She just shook her head no. We were doing some power grazing at a little burger joint just down the road called Lil' Jim's.
I had missed a call from this number on July 4th as well. But, no message. So, I was curious.
"Is James O'Brien there?" came a glimpse of familiarity accompanied by an abruptness of which I doubt my good friend was even aware.
"This is he." I said half wondering if I was hearing who I thought I was hearing.
There was a long pause.
And then he burst through the silence again, "Stoney Portis here, calling from Afghanistan. Am I calling at a bad time?"
Wow. I wanted to say, "Are you kidding me? You're half way around the world and it's probably the middle of the night and you're asking me if it's a bad time. I'll make time."
Anyway, I didn't say any of that and we had a nice conversation, but that's not what this is about. He also sent me an email this afternoon. He asked that I look it over and if felt compelled to do so, to post it here on SpiritualHorseman.com.
Well suffice it to say that I'm compelled.
An excerpt from our conversation included these words from Stoney, "There's no underlying profound message, but it was a church service that really spoke to me and so I wanted to share it."
I agree and disagree. You're right Stoney, there's no underlying message. But profound, well it's the very definition.
Here's the email:
It had only been a week since I first heard of Michael Travaglione, and he was already a legend. Like an episode of déjà vu, every new detail I heard about him in the days leading up to this moment was a fascinating encore that reiterated what I already knew. This man is a badass. And there he stood, right in front of me.
Lieutenant Colonel (LTC) Mike Travaglione has been to more combat zones than there are continents. He’s climbed to outposts in the mountains of Afghanistan, to patrol bases in the deserts of Iraq, and dove on combat dives to the depths of the Red Sea in the Sinai Peninsula. While he doesn’t recommend it, Mike has enjoyed his current deployment of 24 consecutive months (12 in Iraq and going on 13 in Afghanistan, back to back), although he admits with a sly grin that he could really use a glass of scotch. This man is a warrior. The tattoos that define his forearms and biceps are rugged – maybe he inked them himself, decades ago, before American soldiers operated in Iraq, Afghanistan, Kosovo, or Vietnam. He’s lived in several third world countries, sometimes for years at a time, and he speaks a handful of languages. His memory is so good that he can recite long excerpts from several books, many in multiple languages. He’s a stocky man of average height, and the wrinkles on his weather-worn face tell a story all their own. This man has lived a life worth living. LTC Travaglione’s voice sounds like a scruffy version of Robert DeNiro that comes from deep within the toughest corners of the Bronx. He’s a living paradox, embodying the bravado of a 1920s mobster while having a boundless capacity for compassion and humility. This man has wisdom.
There were four of us on this day, five including him. He stood on one side of the table, we stood on the other. We were in a lowland, southwest of the Hindu Kusch Mountains, miles from Pakistan, in an American Forward Operating Base in Afghanistan. The room we were in was relatively safe, but with all the warfare going on outside the camp’s walls, we were hoping this man could lead us in our fight for peace. It was Sunday morning near Jalalabad, and Father Mike Travaglione had just arrived via combat patrol to lead our church service in a makeshift chapel. At the age of 71, Father Mike Travaglione is the oldest priest in the US Army.
We weren’t a very impressive group, four men who seemingly had two things in common: 1) we were Christian, and 2) we were soldiers. All of us had been deployed before, all of us carried a weapon in church, and before we knew it Father Travaglione had all of us singing a hymn to symbolize that Mass had begun. No musical instruments, no background music, no professional singers (that’s for sure). But we sang together in broken harmony anyways: “Make me a channel of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me bring your love. Where there is injury, your pardon, Lord. And where there’s doubt, true faith in you. O Master, grant that I may never seek, so much to be consoled as to console. To be understood as to understand, to be loved, as to love, with all my soul.” How ironic to have men of war singing together a song of peace.
Chaplain Travaglione’s homily was short and simple. He delivered the message as if he were talking to his own grandsons, fully aware of our exhaustion, our loneliness, and the spiritual war that pervaded everything around us. He was clear, and concise: “Lord speak, for your servant listens. Men, sometimes we get too caught up in the prayers we pray and the lives we lead, trying in angst to be men of God. Stop. Be quiet. Listen. Some of the most powerful prayers we have are those quiet moments of peace where we don’t say anything. Lord speak, for your servant listens. Sit. Quietly. Listen. That is prayer.” Father prepared the Eucharist, we all recited the Lord’s prayer, and we shared in the sacrament. Then we sat, we listened, we prayed. We closed the worship service not 20 minutes after we had opened it by singing “America The Beautiful,” it seemed entirely appropriate on 4th of July Weekend. But after we sang the 1st verse and started to close our hymnals to go back to work, one of the old, crusty non-commissioned officers continued singing in a raspy voice the 3rd verse, skipping the 2nd verse entirely. “O beautiful for heroes proved in liberating strife, who more than self their country loved, and mercy more than life! America! America! May God thy gold refine, till all success be nobleness, and every gain divine.”
David immediately comes to mind. And Goliath.
Let's talk church first.
I can't recall a single verse that speaks of David being in a 'church' and yet, God describes him as "a man after my own heart." (I'm not sure of the verse, but it's in Acts.)
The world, God's creation, was David's church. And every day was a prayer.
We are lead where we are lead. And it is there that we should deliver His message. We are the church. A church is not a building but a body, the body of Christ. And we are ALL members. This isn't a suggestion to not go to the building people. It's a statement as to why the building even exists. It's our job to come together as Christians. And even in an Afghani AFOB southwest of the Hindu Kusch Mountains these men made it happen.
Why? - War requires a main operating base. With Christianity, it's the church. Go. What would happen to these soldiers if they never returned to their base camp, their forward operating base, or their main operating base? They'd be tired, hungry and lonely. But more importantly, they'd be low on moral, uninformed and questioning their purpose. Sound familiar?
"We weren’t a very impressive group, four men who seemingly had two things in common: 1) we were Christian, and 2) we were soldiers."
This sums it up... for all of us. The question though, for all of us, is what kind of soldier are we?
David was a true warrior. A leader. A king. But at one time, he was a spindly little shepherd. A nobody. And when that nobody was faced by what was everyone else's worst fear...
He ran. But, He ran toward what everyone else feared. He ran toward Goliath.
1 Samuel 17:48The Philistine then moved to meet David at close quarters, while David ran quickly toward the battle line in the direction of the Philistine.
We are all at war. Goliaths roam freely. Debt. Disaster. Danger. Deceit. Disease. Depression... And Actual War.
Well, we are all soldiers. Ask yourself what kind of spiritual soldier you are. I'm not talking about going and sitting in a corner and praying your problems away. Read the email again and look to these men as an example. An example of how we can handle our spiritual warfare. An example of action. Spiritual warfare is real. And look to David as well.
Will you take up your weapons and stride toward the giants in your life?
Friday, July 3, 2009
Ranch Ethics Thursday
June 30 was my birthday. And as part of my gift, my lovely bride sent my Maui Jim's sunglasses in for repair. Maui Jim's evidently has impeccable customer service. They returned a brand new pair of the titanium Kapalua's. I was just hoping to get my sunglasses back. Maybe with the lenses replaced. But they sent a brand new pair, and a new case with cleaning cloth.
I had them about an hour.
We went to Barnes & Noble as part of the celebration. I know, boring, but that's what I like to do. Anyway, I was reading something and had set my glasses down for a couple of minutes. Now they're gone.
What does this have to do with Ranch Ethics?
I'm getting there. I was furious. FURIOUS! Why the hell would anybody want to be a good person when everybody around you are complete trash. And evidently you get more out of life ( like a sweet new pair of Maui Jim's sunglasses ) when you're a thieving asshole. OK, the vulgarity is a little much, but I was still a little put off by this whole thing... Until Thursday.
Thursday morning kicked in the same old routine. Up and at 'em - feed - hook up and load saddles and gear - load horses and head south. As soon as I arrived, Morgan and I made the feeding rounds and then headed to where we store the portable pens. They're a set of heavy duty panels engineered to be pulled like a bumper pull trailer. They can hold close to forty or fifty head and can be set up by one or two men in about fifteen minutes.
Anyway, I was curious as to where we were headed.
Berclair.
Well, that was Five-O's country and I thought we had cleaned it all out several months ago. (The Five-O's are J.M.'s five children.)
Morgan informed me that we were not working our cattle but a neighbor's cattle who had ventured on to that Berclair country. Fair enough. We got hooked up and headed out.
As we pulled up to the middle trap, there were three or four head in there with the same amount of calves, none of which appeared to be Five-O's cows. (There were still seven in the pasture that belonged to Five-O's) That's about what I expected. However, we just got a count and kept on truckin'.
"Where we headed?" I asked Morgan.
"Down to that back trap. Those are probably Cartright cattle. We'll just set those trap gates and deal with them next week. I think there are a couple more of them in here."
So off to the back we went. When we pulled up to that back trap I didn't see a couple of strays. I saw sixteen head of good looking tiger striped cows, at least 8-10 calves and one bull. What the ...!?!?
"Who do these belong to?" I asked Dad wondering who had the 'Lazy-P' brand.
"Mike Powers. I've been calling him for a couple of days and I think they're working cattle across the creek today. So, we'll just try and get these penned and head over there. Hopefully we can catch him 'cause I'm not sure where he wants 'em."
It all boils down to the fact that it's HOT. And DRY. South Texas looks pretty rough right now. Since Five-O's had pulled nearly all of their cattle off of this place, it was one of the few around that had plenty of grass. Couple that with the fact that it's bordered on one side by the Blanco Creek, which is dry as a bone, and you have cattle looking for grass and water. So they start pushing on the water gaps down in the creek bottoms and it doesn't take long for them to end up in our set of rolling pens. ;)
Dad and I got the pens set up and long story short, we also got the cattle penned. A phone call from J.M. let us know it was lunch time. They were headed into town to the Taqueria. We stopped by the Powers place and spoke with Mike's brother, Norman. (by the way - How do you make a deer blind?.................................. You poke it in the eye.)
I know, but Norman thought it was hilarious. But he was the one that told it.
After lunch we headed to the ranch to get a couple ranch rigs to load the cattle in. We hooked up and one by one our little three rig convoy eased through that infamous narrow green cattle guard and headed for Berclair.
I guess it was about half way when I asked Dad why it always seemed like we got horseback and went to pen our cattle, load them and bring them back whenever they got onto someone else's place. And anytime someone else's cattle got on our place, we always hand delivered them.
He just grinned. He said he didn't know why it always ends up like that. But his grin and demeanor said otherwise. He was perfectly happy doin' it. Of course it would be nice if people brought our cattle in. But we don't have any control over that. So why do we always take care of everyone else's cows.
Because it's the right thing to do. That's why.
Thanks for the lesson Morgan. One among thousands.
Then on my way home, another of my influencers (by the way - who influences you - who do you influence) drove it all home.
Don't pray for an easier life. For more money. More happy times. A healthy wife.
Pray that the Message - His Message - may prosper. Pray that you can help deliver it. Trust me, when my glasses got stolen, I was not wanting the message to prosper. ;) I was wanting to strangle somebody with that super cool and bendy titanium frame that those glasses were made out of.
If you want to listen to Gregg Matte talk more about this click here.
It's worth a listen.
This also reminded me of a book that my friend Stan Sigman gave me a little while back. Here it is on Amazon:
It's a great read. And it tries to help everyone understand why in the world you'd take care of everybody else's cows even when nobody takes care of yours. It's called Cowboy Ethics: What Wall Street Can Learn from the Code of the West
Well, Morgan, Mick, Dick and I got Mr. Powers' cattle loaded and delivered.
Why?
Because it's the right thing to do. Be an example of His Message.
I had them about an hour.
We went to Barnes & Noble as part of the celebration. I know, boring, but that's what I like to do. Anyway, I was reading something and had set my glasses down for a couple of minutes. Now they're gone.
What does this have to do with Ranch Ethics?
I'm getting there. I was furious. FURIOUS! Why the hell would anybody want to be a good person when everybody around you are complete trash. And evidently you get more out of life ( like a sweet new pair of Maui Jim's sunglasses ) when you're a thieving asshole. OK, the vulgarity is a little much, but I was still a little put off by this whole thing... Until Thursday.
Thursday morning kicked in the same old routine. Up and at 'em - feed - hook up and load saddles and gear - load horses and head south. As soon as I arrived, Morgan and I made the feeding rounds and then headed to where we store the portable pens. They're a set of heavy duty panels engineered to be pulled like a bumper pull trailer. They can hold close to forty or fifty head and can be set up by one or two men in about fifteen minutes.
Anyway, I was curious as to where we were headed.
Berclair.
Well, that was Five-O's country and I thought we had cleaned it all out several months ago. (The Five-O's are J.M.'s five children.)
Morgan informed me that we were not working our cattle but a neighbor's cattle who had ventured on to that Berclair country. Fair enough. We got hooked up and headed out.
As we pulled up to the middle trap, there were three or four head in there with the same amount of calves, none of which appeared to be Five-O's cows. (There were still seven in the pasture that belonged to Five-O's) That's about what I expected. However, we just got a count and kept on truckin'.
"Where we headed?" I asked Morgan.
"Down to that back trap. Those are probably Cartright cattle. We'll just set those trap gates and deal with them next week. I think there are a couple more of them in here."
So off to the back we went. When we pulled up to that back trap I didn't see a couple of strays. I saw sixteen head of good looking tiger striped cows, at least 8-10 calves and one bull. What the ...!?!?
"Who do these belong to?" I asked Dad wondering who had the 'Lazy-P' brand.
"Mike Powers. I've been calling him for a couple of days and I think they're working cattle across the creek today. So, we'll just try and get these penned and head over there. Hopefully we can catch him 'cause I'm not sure where he wants 'em."
It all boils down to the fact that it's HOT. And DRY. South Texas looks pretty rough right now. Since Five-O's had pulled nearly all of their cattle off of this place, it was one of the few around that had plenty of grass. Couple that with the fact that it's bordered on one side by the Blanco Creek, which is dry as a bone, and you have cattle looking for grass and water. So they start pushing on the water gaps down in the creek bottoms and it doesn't take long for them to end up in our set of rolling pens. ;)
Dad and I got the pens set up and long story short, we also got the cattle penned. A phone call from J.M. let us know it was lunch time. They were headed into town to the Taqueria. We stopped by the Powers place and spoke with Mike's brother, Norman. (by the way - How do you make a deer blind?.................................. You poke it in the eye.)
I know, but Norman thought it was hilarious. But he was the one that told it.
After lunch we headed to the ranch to get a couple ranch rigs to load the cattle in. We hooked up and one by one our little three rig convoy eased through that infamous narrow green cattle guard and headed for Berclair.
I guess it was about half way when I asked Dad why it always seemed like we got horseback and went to pen our cattle, load them and bring them back whenever they got onto someone else's place. And anytime someone else's cattle got on our place, we always hand delivered them.
He just grinned. He said he didn't know why it always ends up like that. But his grin and demeanor said otherwise. He was perfectly happy doin' it. Of course it would be nice if people brought our cattle in. But we don't have any control over that. So why do we always take care of everyone else's cows.
Because it's the right thing to do. That's why.
Thanks for the lesson Morgan. One among thousands.
Then on my way home, another of my influencers (by the way - who influences you - who do you influence) drove it all home.
Don't pray for an easier life. For more money. More happy times. A healthy wife.
Pray that the Message - His Message - may prosper. Pray that you can help deliver it. Trust me, when my glasses got stolen, I was not wanting the message to prosper. ;) I was wanting to strangle somebody with that super cool and bendy titanium frame that those glasses were made out of.
If you want to listen to Gregg Matte talk more about this click here.
It's worth a listen.
This also reminded me of a book that my friend Stan Sigman gave me a little while back. Here it is on Amazon:
It's a great read. And it tries to help everyone understand why in the world you'd take care of everybody else's cows even when nobody takes care of yours. It's called Cowboy Ethics: What Wall Street Can Learn from the Code of the West
Well, Morgan, Mick, Dick and I got Mr. Powers' cattle loaded and delivered.
Why?
Because it's the right thing to do. Be an example of His Message.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Hot Thursday
It was ten after 6 and I was finally headed to the ranch. I used one of the little two-year-old fillies to pen the roping cattle this morning and then cut the calves out. They were staying here. But the steers, they were headed back south. I was going to swap them out for some more roping calves. The penning and sorting went quickly, even in the dark. The loading was the hard part. The only loading chute of any kind is what is formed by one panel and the trailer gate. No problem most of the time. Not this time.
There's always one in the bunch. This one was actually a heifer, and she was white with some brendal stripes. She had screwing my early morning efforts up down to a fine art. She had two moves (1) Be the first in the trailer, wheel around and hook the other steers on her way back out while taking at least one with her (2) refuse to go in at all until the steers that were loaded decided to come on back out.
Enter Gus. Gus is my right hand man and appears in the top right hand corner of this website every now and then. He's worth his weight in gold. (even though he was half asleep in the truck bed this morning and i had to go get him) Anyway, once Gus realized that today his work day was going to start before we got to the ranch, he got after it. I just loaded the cooperating steers and let him have that d@&mn heifer while I went to pen the roping calves.
The calves were re-penned in no time and thrown in with the steers. The ones in the trailer were dropped back out and by this time, that white heifer was wanting to be somewhere else. I just loaded them all and cut the calves back out from inside the trailer. Done. Finally. Ridiculous. It's 5 freakin 30 in the morning and I'm soakin' wet. The dog days of summer are upon us.
So I head inside to change clothes. I load up Bugzy and Senorita and head south.
I was a little late so Morgan had already gotten everything fed up at the house. We finished up the feeding rounds and then penned a set of bulls. We were branding again. Mick and Dick had a set of replacement heifers to be branded as well. We were going to try and get them all done before lunch. After the irons were hot (one Jh, one number 8 and one O-B) we started the machine. If you don't know what machine I'm talking about check out this post for pictures and this post for a description.
Anyway, we got it done.
After lunch we caught up the '08 fillies from the Murphy. It was time to brand them as well. There was just one problem.
They were a little wet.
The news said 105 with a heat index at 115.
Well, sweat, or rain (which we haven't had to worry about) creates a problem when branding, especially with horses. It's also more of an issue when you're dealing with barely halter broke yearlings that you know are going to fret a little which will cause them to sweat even more. The brand won't run, but when first placed on the hide, the iron will slide putting the brand where you don't want it. Or worse, burning a spot here and there. So we decided to wait until it cooled off a bit.
One hour later, it's 102. It's not going to get any cooler until midnight. Our breeze just wasn't coming.
We went and got them and got it done. Slowly. When these kinds of situations come up, and they come up ALOT down south, you can't just wait. Hell, we'd never get anything done. You just have to slow down - Calm diligence.
Always press the limits - But at a walk.
There's always one in the bunch. This one was actually a heifer, and she was white with some brendal stripes. She had screwing my early morning efforts up down to a fine art. She had two moves (1) Be the first in the trailer, wheel around and hook the other steers on her way back out while taking at least one with her (2) refuse to go in at all until the steers that were loaded decided to come on back out.
Enter Gus. Gus is my right hand man and appears in the top right hand corner of this website every now and then. He's worth his weight in gold. (even though he was half asleep in the truck bed this morning and i had to go get him) Anyway, once Gus realized that today his work day was going to start before we got to the ranch, he got after it. I just loaded the cooperating steers and let him have that d@&mn heifer while I went to pen the roping calves.
The calves were re-penned in no time and thrown in with the steers. The ones in the trailer were dropped back out and by this time, that white heifer was wanting to be somewhere else. I just loaded them all and cut the calves back out from inside the trailer. Done. Finally. Ridiculous. It's 5 freakin 30 in the morning and I'm soakin' wet. The dog days of summer are upon us.
So I head inside to change clothes. I load up Bugzy and Senorita and head south.
I was a little late so Morgan had already gotten everything fed up at the house. We finished up the feeding rounds and then penned a set of bulls. We were branding again. Mick and Dick had a set of replacement heifers to be branded as well. We were going to try and get them all done before lunch. After the irons were hot (one Jh, one number 8 and one O-B) we started the machine. If you don't know what machine I'm talking about check out this post for pictures and this post for a description.
Anyway, we got it done.
After lunch we caught up the '08 fillies from the Murphy. It was time to brand them as well. There was just one problem.
They were a little wet.
The news said 105 with a heat index at 115.
Well, sweat, or rain (which we haven't had to worry about) creates a problem when branding, especially with horses. It's also more of an issue when you're dealing with barely halter broke yearlings that you know are going to fret a little which will cause them to sweat even more. The brand won't run, but when first placed on the hide, the iron will slide putting the brand where you don't want it. Or worse, burning a spot here and there. So we decided to wait until it cooled off a bit.
One hour later, it's 102. It's not going to get any cooler until midnight. Our breeze just wasn't coming.
We went and got them and got it done. Slowly. When these kinds of situations come up, and they come up ALOT down south, you can't just wait. Hell, we'd never get anything done. You just have to slow down - Calm diligence.
Always press the limits - But at a walk.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
It's OK - How to live stress free
It's OK.
Don't Worry About It.
Forget About It.
We all do stupid things. If you're thinking that you don't, you're do. And it will probably happen before you go to bed tonight.
Anyway, We all do it. What's important is what you do afterward. Now, if your stupid thing is forgetting to put the lid on your pink lemonade from DQ (they're awesome by the way) and you sling it all over the truck when some teeny-bopper whips their soon-to-be-destroyed-if-they-keep-texting-while-they're-driving-new-car, then it's usually not that big of a deal. Some of us hot-heads and worry warts may feel differently, but all I can tell you is life's too short. You're the only one mad. How does that make you feel? More mad? ;) That's the point. You have a choice. You don't have to be mad.
So on to the real deal. Your mess up may be bigger than that. You may have purposely decided to delay marketing a particular horse for one reason or another. And the next thing you know, you're underneath a $6,000+ property tax situation that has a serious effect on real life. (you know, hypothetically ;) ) This problem could be huge for some, and might not even make some blink when they consider their problems. (infidelity, fiscal irresponsibility, etc., etc.)
How do you handle that if you're the one who screwed up? How do you handle it if you're the spouse of the person who screwed up? Or the son, daughter, mother or father?
It's all the same. We should all try to exist in the current moment. Where do you exist? Truly Exist?
Is it:
In a war that was fought decades ago? In a business dealing that happened years ago? In an argument that you don't even remember that well? Where? Where do you exist?
If you don't know, find out. Now.
This shapes your reaction to everything. As soon as you know where you exist, you'll understand your reactions so clearly as well. But I can't answer it for you. And neither can your spouse, or anyone else. If it doesn't come to you immediately, bow your head. Ask Our Lord. Seriously, He'll let you know right quick.
So, about that reaction - how can you handle it? With humility and dignity. It doesn't matter which side you're on. That's how you handle it. Regardless of how bad you screwed up, somebody somewhere has screwed up worse than you. And no matter how small of a screw up you may think it is, somebody somewhere could make your little mess look like Katrina. So be humble. Be apologetic. But don't continue to EXIST in that screwup. It's a poison. Move on.
And if you're the one who got screwed, same thing. Be aware, but be humble, you're not perfect. And do not continue to EXIST within that situation. Move on.
Does "It's OK" mean no one cares? Hell no it doesn't. The real world doesn't forget. But that's not the point. The point is that the past is poison. Good pasts can paralize you into not progressing. You think you've already made it. Bad pasts can do the same thing. They can create a "Why should I even try?" situation.
Guess what. Tomorrow is the same way. Poison. Is that a little drastic? Nope. If you cared about losing one pound today, or making one dollar today, what would happen? Success. But we're not doing that. We want to make a million... Eventually. What the heck kind of timeline is that?
Amen.
Good, bad, happy or sad - Live for the people in your life right now. The opportunities in your life right now. The love in your life right now. Let the rest go. You ask Our Lord and He'll tell you what to do next. And don't be surprised when you end up exactly where you wanted to be. In shorter time. And after having more fun. ;)
Here's a little aside. There's a whole theory behind it as well, but this post is getting a little longer than expected. Think about grandparents. Why do they love those grandchildren SO much?
It's a clean slate.
Wipe your slate clean today and start over. What if everybody was your grandchild? You'd be broke ;) , but you'd be happy.
Further Reading:
Here are several other posts on forgiveness and stress free living.
By the way - Bugzy is my heel horse that's for Sale: $7500 (Yea, um, it wasn't hypothetical. ;) )
Don't Worry About It.
Forget About It.
We all do stupid things. If you're thinking that you don't, you're do. And it will probably happen before you go to bed tonight.
Anyway, We all do it. What's important is what you do afterward. Now, if your stupid thing is forgetting to put the lid on your pink lemonade from DQ (they're awesome by the way) and you sling it all over the truck when some teeny-bopper whips their soon-to-be-destroyed-if-they-keep-texting-while-they're-driving-new-car, then it's usually not that big of a deal. Some of us hot-heads and worry warts may feel differently, but all I can tell you is life's too short. You're the only one mad. How does that make you feel? More mad? ;) That's the point. You have a choice. You don't have to be mad.So on to the real deal. Your mess up may be bigger than that. You may have purposely decided to delay marketing a particular horse for one reason or another. And the next thing you know, you're underneath a $6,000+ property tax situation that has a serious effect on real life. (you know, hypothetically ;) ) This problem could be huge for some, and might not even make some blink when they consider their problems. (infidelity, fiscal irresponsibility, etc., etc.)
How do you handle that if you're the one who screwed up? How do you handle it if you're the spouse of the person who screwed up? Or the son, daughter, mother or father?
It's all the same. We should all try to exist in the current moment. Where do you exist? Truly Exist?
Is it:
In a war that was fought decades ago? In a business dealing that happened years ago? In an argument that you don't even remember that well? Where? Where do you exist?
If you don't know, find out. Now.
This shapes your reaction to everything. As soon as you know where you exist, you'll understand your reactions so clearly as well. But I can't answer it for you. And neither can your spouse, or anyone else. If it doesn't come to you immediately, bow your head. Ask Our Lord. Seriously, He'll let you know right quick.
So, about that reaction - how can you handle it? With humility and dignity. It doesn't matter which side you're on. That's how you handle it. Regardless of how bad you screwed up, somebody somewhere has screwed up worse than you. And no matter how small of a screw up you may think it is, somebody somewhere could make your little mess look like Katrina. So be humble. Be apologetic. But don't continue to EXIST in that screwup. It's a poison. Move on.
And if you're the one who got screwed, same thing. Be aware, but be humble, you're not perfect. And do not continue to EXIST within that situation. Move on.
Does "It's OK" mean no one cares? Hell no it doesn't. The real world doesn't forget. But that's not the point. The point is that the past is poison. Good pasts can paralize you into not progressing. You think you've already made it. Bad pasts can do the same thing. They can create a "Why should I even try?" situation.
Guess what. Tomorrow is the same way. Poison. Is that a little drastic? Nope. If you cared about losing one pound today, or making one dollar today, what would happen? Success. But we're not doing that. We want to make a million... Eventually. What the heck kind of timeline is that?
Mathew 6:34
So then, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Today has enough trouble of its own.
Amen.
Good, bad, happy or sad - Live for the people in your life right now. The opportunities in your life right now. The love in your life right now. Let the rest go. You ask Our Lord and He'll tell you what to do next. And don't be surprised when you end up exactly where you wanted to be. In shorter time. And after having more fun. ;)
Here's a little aside. There's a whole theory behind it as well, but this post is getting a little longer than expected. Think about grandparents. Why do they love those grandchildren SO much?
It's a clean slate.
Wipe your slate clean today and start over. What if everybody was your grandchild? You'd be broke ;) , but you'd be happy.
Further Reading:
Here are several other posts on forgiveness and stress free living.
By the way - Bugzy is my heel horse that's for Sale: $7500 (Yea, um, it wasn't hypothetical. ;) )
Friday, June 12, 2009
Reminiscent Thursday
Ben Cumpean got married a couple of months ago. Those of you who know Ben are laughing. For those of you who don't, he's a 60+ Mexican man with what seems to be 70+ years of ranch life riding his bones. He's lived with his new wife for around eighteen years and they were wed about six months ago.
Well, this morning Morgan and I got everything fed up and were headed to pick up an air compressor from the shop. We had to air up the tires on the mobile pens. They'll hold 40 head of wild, fightin' crossbred cows, but what they won't hold is air. Go figure.
While we were at the shop Ben stopped by. He had pictures from the wedding. One for Dad, one for Mick and one for Dick. If I could only have heard the stories the group in that picture had been through. Ben was in the middle. He arrived at the O'Brien ranch when he was nineteen. He worked the Berclair country for years until he was moved to Quincy where he still lives with his wife.
To his right were Nick and Midnight Rivas. I knew Midnight from when I was a boy. He has since moved to town along with his brother Nick. But at one time they were both fighting the South Texas brush just like everybody else in that picture.
Then there was Fino. I'm pretty sure his proper name is Delphino, but I'm not certain. He wears his buckle on the left side of his pants and always has. Some say it's because it pinches his belly, but Dad said he was a skinny youngster when he was working at the ranch and he wore it just like that back then as well. I don't think he even knows why he does it.
And the twins. Los cuates was probably the more common terminology for them in this group. They'll say that they call Mick and Dick that because it's Spanish for twin, but I'm pretty sure they just can't tell them apart at a glance. And "Hey cuate, ..." gets the same quick result as actually knowing who they're talking to. ;)
Albert Ramon was to Fino's right. He is close kin to Richie, who has since passed on, but whose saddle I still use when I'm starting colts. I wish I could put it up on display and take care of it, but I need it. And they don't make 'em like that anymore. Well this young Albert is also kin to another Albert Ramon my grandfather told me a new story on this Thursday. It goes like this.
I was visiting with Grandpa out at the Melon one day. That's the place I was born 'n raised up near Refugio. Well, I was raised right across the road from where we were but it's all on the same place.
Anyhow, while we were standing there ol' Albert got dusted off of one pretty good. (he was thrown from a bucking horse) Then he wandered around that trap for a minute and back on he got. She rode around for a second or two and then swallowed her head and let him have it again.
That's when Grandpa told me to go help that boy catch her. See, he was off in that little trap there. Small enough I guess, but just big enough to have a hard time catchin' a horse that didn't want to get caught. [Especially when you've just been round housed twice. ;)]
Well, I was just a little fella. I didn't know what the hell I was doin'. But when she came my way, I just threw my hands up and sent her the other way. Well, Albert got her caught. And by then Grandpa had sidled up along side the fence to try and find out what the hell was goin' on.
Albert eased her around some more and then directly she let 'er rip all over again. I'll say this, she had some try to her. Well, this last time Albert wasn't having it. He was determined to stay up there. And don't get me wrong, he could ride the hell out of a bronc. But just about the time he got settled in up there she throwed him, the saddle and all.
There he sat in the dirt right in front of us. Square in the middle of the saddle with both feet still in the stirrups. He looked up and Grandpa and said, "Boss, I just don't see how I can set her if she's gonna throw saddle and all. You can fire me if you want to, but I ain't gettin' on that mare no more."
With a half chuckle Grandpa told him, "Hell son I ain't gonna fire you. If she can throw that saddle, I don't see how you're gonna stay up there."
I just loved this story. I know everybody has plans in life. I also know that sometimes we don't consult our Heavenly Father when we make those plans. I know I forget pretty regular. But even though we create circumstances we can't possibly make it through due to our stubborn blindness, I gotta believe that He's up there smiling when we have the guts it takes to "Ride the saddle to the ground".
Further Reading:
Know When to Say When
Well, this morning Morgan and I got everything fed up and were headed to pick up an air compressor from the shop. We had to air up the tires on the mobile pens. They'll hold 40 head of wild, fightin' crossbred cows, but what they won't hold is air. Go figure.
While we were at the shop Ben stopped by. He had pictures from the wedding. One for Dad, one for Mick and one for Dick. If I could only have heard the stories the group in that picture had been through. Ben was in the middle. He arrived at the O'Brien ranch when he was nineteen. He worked the Berclair country for years until he was moved to Quincy where he still lives with his wife.
To his right were Nick and Midnight Rivas. I knew Midnight from when I was a boy. He has since moved to town along with his brother Nick. But at one time they were both fighting the South Texas brush just like everybody else in that picture.
Then there was Fino. I'm pretty sure his proper name is Delphino, but I'm not certain. He wears his buckle on the left side of his pants and always has. Some say it's because it pinches his belly, but Dad said he was a skinny youngster when he was working at the ranch and he wore it just like that back then as well. I don't think he even knows why he does it.
And the twins. Los cuates was probably the more common terminology for them in this group. They'll say that they call Mick and Dick that because it's Spanish for twin, but I'm pretty sure they just can't tell them apart at a glance. And "Hey cuate, ..." gets the same quick result as actually knowing who they're talking to. ;)
Albert Ramon was to Fino's right. He is close kin to Richie, who has since passed on, but whose saddle I still use when I'm starting colts. I wish I could put it up on display and take care of it, but I need it. And they don't make 'em like that anymore. Well this young Albert is also kin to another Albert Ramon my grandfather told me a new story on this Thursday. It goes like this.
I was visiting with Grandpa out at the Melon one day. That's the place I was born 'n raised up near Refugio. Well, I was raised right across the road from where we were but it's all on the same place.
Anyhow, while we were standing there ol' Albert got dusted off of one pretty good. (he was thrown from a bucking horse) Then he wandered around that trap for a minute and back on he got. She rode around for a second or two and then swallowed her head and let him have it again.
That's when Grandpa told me to go help that boy catch her. See, he was off in that little trap there. Small enough I guess, but just big enough to have a hard time catchin' a horse that didn't want to get caught. [Especially when you've just been round housed twice. ;)]
Well, I was just a little fella. I didn't know what the hell I was doin'. But when she came my way, I just threw my hands up and sent her the other way. Well, Albert got her caught. And by then Grandpa had sidled up along side the fence to try and find out what the hell was goin' on.
Albert eased her around some more and then directly she let 'er rip all over again. I'll say this, she had some try to her. Well, this last time Albert wasn't having it. He was determined to stay up there. And don't get me wrong, he could ride the hell out of a bronc. But just about the time he got settled in up there she throwed him, the saddle and all.
There he sat in the dirt right in front of us. Square in the middle of the saddle with both feet still in the stirrups. He looked up and Grandpa and said, "Boss, I just don't see how I can set her if she's gonna throw saddle and all. You can fire me if you want to, but I ain't gettin' on that mare no more."
With a half chuckle Grandpa told him, "Hell son I ain't gonna fire you. If she can throw that saddle, I don't see how you're gonna stay up there."
I just loved this story. I know everybody has plans in life. I also know that sometimes we don't consult our Heavenly Father when we make those plans. I know I forget pretty regular. But even though we create circumstances we can't possibly make it through due to our stubborn blindness, I gotta believe that He's up there smiling when we have the guts it takes to "Ride the saddle to the ground".
Further Reading:
Know When to Say When
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Jane Ann "Jou Jou" Husbands
It may seem discouraging to have a remembrance of the recently passed meet you here every time you visit SpiritualHorseman.com. It's not pleasant, but it's necessary. I've been blessed by a vast array of beautiful people throughout my life and when one of those leaves this earthly life for their eternal home I owe you the pleasure of getting to know them. Even if it's just a glimpse of what made them great.
Jane Ann "Jou Jou" Husbands was one of those great people. She died June 9, 2009. The obituary for Jou Jou can be found here. She was every bit of 5 feet 1 inch tall . . . maybe, but she was a firecracker. And the epitome of elegance. Not many women I know are capable of being a firecracker and elegant. Nowadays, there aren't many capable of being either one. No one has the backbone it takes to stand for something and voice their opinion enough to be considered a firecracker. And elegance... forget it. Every one is too busy typing on their Blackberry/iPhone to even fake elegance, much less master the forgotten trait. Well, Jou Jou did.
Here's to her plucky love for life, her passion for art and her singular ability to maintain her late husband, Hal. ;) He was a towering man. He was the warden at the penitentiary in Huntsville and he looked the part. His compassion was heaven sent. But his discipline and intimidating stature kept the place in check. And then there was Jou Jou. The one place in his life where order was not up to him. She was his release, his rest from the structure of things, his authority (sometimes ;) ), and now they're together again. The husbands are a beautiful example for the world. God Bless You All.
Jane Ann "Jou Jou" Husbands was one of those great people. She died June 9, 2009. The obituary for Jou Jou can be found here. She was every bit of 5 feet 1 inch tall . . . maybe, but she was a firecracker. And the epitome of elegance. Not many women I know are capable of being a firecracker and elegant. Nowadays, there aren't many capable of being either one. No one has the backbone it takes to stand for something and voice their opinion enough to be considered a firecracker. And elegance... forget it. Every one is too busy typing on their Blackberry/iPhone to even fake elegance, much less master the forgotten trait. Well, Jou Jou did.
Here's to her plucky love for life, her passion for art and her singular ability to maintain her late husband, Hal. ;) He was a towering man. He was the warden at the penitentiary in Huntsville and he looked the part. His compassion was heaven sent. But his discipline and intimidating stature kept the place in check. And then there was Jou Jou. The one place in his life where order was not up to him. She was his release, his rest from the structure of things, his authority (sometimes ;) ), and now they're together again. The husbands are a beautiful example for the world. God Bless You All.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Triple Threat Thursday
He was always Mr. Doug to me. And before Thursday's ranch trip gets retold, I want to remember a this man. His name Douglas Franklin. Below is the obituary.
Douglas Franklin Passed Away Sunday, May 31, 2009.
It's a kind re-telling of Mr. Doug's service in the army, his church and his community. But, it left out a very important detail. Doug Franklin worked at the O'Brien Ranch for many years. And when I say worked, I mean it. I always new him as an elderly man, but that didn't stop him from going to work cattle, working gates and getting in the crowd pen. In fact, he conveniently misinformed us of his age a couple of times just so he wouldn't be told to get out of there. Or worse, to stay at the pens.
There are many stories about this man, but the best one I heard, was short and it didn't even happen until June 4. That's right, yesterday.
A pastor for his church stood and with the fervor that can only come from within a black southern baptist congregation, he said, "You all can cry if you want to... But you ain't cryin' for Doug. You cryin' for yourself. 'Cause Doug's in heaven."
And so he is.
Now, about that Thursday trip south. What a day. After getting everybody fed, I hooked up the Big Tex and off we went. South bound I-37 without horses for the first time in quite a long time. See, some how my Dad's Big Tex flatbed trailer found it's way to my house. Marvin Tavarez, a good friend of mine and agent for the Horse Insurance Company we use, borrowed the trailer to haul a 100 or so bales of that hay we unloaded on Mr. Miyagi Thursday back to his house. He gave Morgan a ballpark time for when he'd have the trailer back, but Dad told him he could just drop it at my house to save him a trip. No problem.
So I call Dad just before 8:00 am to ask if he wants his trailer back at the Murphy or over at the main pens. The Murphy. I pulled in and dropped it off and headed over to the morning meeting.
The morning meeting isn't a meeting at all but it is where an unbelievable amount of scheduling goes down. Plans aren't made ahead of time down there very often. Not because they aren't planners, but because if a windmill breaks, cows get out, someone else's cattle get on your place, gaps are down, etc. the plan changes anyway. Well, today was one of those days that would have changed plans. Mr. Douglas Franklin had passed away and most were headed to the early afternoon funeral.
Morgan and I caught up some of the elder green geldings I re-started a couple of weeks ago. Two had already been picked up, but a replacement gelding that fit the mold (older and still green) had been moved from the rope horse trap to this teach-them-a-weeks-worth-in-a-day group.
It's a great challenge since you have to push the limits of what you can show one when you can only ride them once a week. However, these horses are mature enough to handle much more pressure than a two-year-old and they are progressing very quickly. It's alot of fun.
Speaking of fun - After the geldings were ridden I went to get my truck over at Mom and Dad's and guess who is there.
Taylor, Trinity and Taryn.
My nieces were ready to ride. So that's what we did. The rest of the afternoon was pure goodness. Here's a taste.
First, we had to go see some of the horses:
Then, it was time to mount up.
Warm-up time didn't last long.
It was a hot day so we had to take a time-out every now and then.
All of this was fun, but there was one event that unfolded both beautifully and quite comically this Thursday. It's the perfect way to remember that preparation is important. And sometimes, even though one may be a wonderful, positive leader, our follower may loose the way. We have to keep a smile on our face and trust in our walk. And remember that sometimes you'll need more than your own strength to get the job done.
Douglas Franklin Passed Away Sunday, May 31, 2009.
It's a kind re-telling of Mr. Doug's service in the army, his church and his community. But, it left out a very important detail. Doug Franklin worked at the O'Brien Ranch for many years. And when I say worked, I mean it. I always new him as an elderly man, but that didn't stop him from going to work cattle, working gates and getting in the crowd pen. In fact, he conveniently misinformed us of his age a couple of times just so he wouldn't be told to get out of there. Or worse, to stay at the pens.
There are many stories about this man, but the best one I heard, was short and it didn't even happen until June 4. That's right, yesterday.
A pastor for his church stood and with the fervor that can only come from within a black southern baptist congregation, he said, "You all can cry if you want to... But you ain't cryin' for Doug. You cryin' for yourself. 'Cause Doug's in heaven."
And so he is.
Now, about that Thursday trip south. What a day. After getting everybody fed, I hooked up the Big Tex and off we went. South bound I-37 without horses for the first time in quite a long time. See, some how my Dad's Big Tex flatbed trailer found it's way to my house. Marvin Tavarez, a good friend of mine and agent for the Horse Insurance Company we use, borrowed the trailer to haul a 100 or so bales of that hay we unloaded on Mr. Miyagi Thursday back to his house. He gave Morgan a ballpark time for when he'd have the trailer back, but Dad told him he could just drop it at my house to save him a trip. No problem.
So I call Dad just before 8:00 am to ask if he wants his trailer back at the Murphy or over at the main pens. The Murphy. I pulled in and dropped it off and headed over to the morning meeting.
The morning meeting isn't a meeting at all but it is where an unbelievable amount of scheduling goes down. Plans aren't made ahead of time down there very often. Not because they aren't planners, but because if a windmill breaks, cows get out, someone else's cattle get on your place, gaps are down, etc. the plan changes anyway. Well, today was one of those days that would have changed plans. Mr. Douglas Franklin had passed away and most were headed to the early afternoon funeral.
Morgan and I caught up some of the elder green geldings I re-started a couple of weeks ago. Two had already been picked up, but a replacement gelding that fit the mold (older and still green) had been moved from the rope horse trap to this teach-them-a-weeks-worth-in-a-day group.
It's a great challenge since you have to push the limits of what you can show one when you can only ride them once a week. However, these horses are mature enough to handle much more pressure than a two-year-old and they are progressing very quickly. It's alot of fun.
Speaking of fun - After the geldings were ridden I went to get my truck over at Mom and Dad's and guess who is there.
Taylor, Trinity and Taryn.
My nieces were ready to ride. So that's what we did. The rest of the afternoon was pure goodness. Here's a taste.
First, we had to go see some of the horses:
Then, it was time to mount up.
Warm-up time didn't last long.
It was a hot day so we had to take a time-out every now and then.
All of this was fun, but there was one event that unfolded both beautifully and quite comically this Thursday. It's the perfect way to remember that preparation is important. And sometimes, even though one may be a wonderful, positive leader, our follower may loose the way. We have to keep a smile on our face and trust in our walk. And remember that sometimes you'll need more than your own strength to get the job done.
Friday, May 29, 2009
When To Say When
I usually try to respond to most comments as they come in. This is usually done under the corresponding post. However, Arlen Walker's will be handled slightly different. It brought back some memories and also struck a chord with today's readings.
Here's Arlen's comment in response to the post I titled - UP
James, I may or may not have taught you anything about roping, but everytime I sit down to catch up on your blog, your messages hit me right in the gut. I’m often with your dad when he stops to talk to someone he does’nt even know for 20 mins. I wonder what in the hell he is doing talking to that guy. I’m going to work on that. Thanks for the post and tell your pretty wife hello. Love Arlen
P.S. I’m stepping out of the box with that four letter word. [love] Working on that also.
Amen Arlen. It doesn't take Morgan but a minute or two before he's going to find somebody to talk horses with. Even if it's in Colorado... on a city bus... TO THE BUS DRIVER?!??! Seriously, Dad. It's snowin' and the man has a job to do. ;)
But the driver was genuinely interested and the next day we're going to look at horses in Colorado. It's a small world if we'll just open up to it.
Back to the post at hand.
Growing up roping with Morgan O'Brien, Mick O'Brien, Dick O'Brien, Phil Lyne, Rusty Carroll and Arlen Walker blessed me with the fortunate ability to say that learning "all I know" from any one of them would be quite a stretch. However, Arlen did teach me plenty. One thing in particular.
James loved to rope. He was a high school kid living twenty miles from town on a ranch in South Texas. Let's call it Quincy. ;)
Well, everyday James left Quincy pretty early on in the morning to get his sister dropped off to school and still make it to class himself. More often than not, punctuality was lacking. Everyday at lunch James and Justin, a close friend of his, headed over to Justin's house to catch the horses. They even rode them back to school on occasion. Mostly, they were just getting them ready for the afternoon calf roping session.
As soon as they were able, they warmed up the horses and got after it. James rode Sonny. He is pictured above at the High School National Finals in Gillette, Wyoming back in 1995. Sonny was James' A-string-number-one-primo-mount and probably the best horse James ever had the pleasure to ride. And Justin was riding a little mare called Super Chicken that belonged to James' twin uncles, Mick and Dick. She was awesome, too. They ended up selling her to George Strait for his son to rope calves on. The Straits later retired her and kept her for a brood mare.
Anyway, on one particular afternoon Justin was unable to rope. Since Arlen and Ms. Cody (Justin's parents) had pretty much adopted James as their while-he's-in-town-son, James roped anyway. Arlen helped James quite a bit and today he was turning out and untying calves just like any other day.
One pen of calves probably had ten or twelve calves in it. After the first set Arlen asked James if he wanted to bring 'em back. (that meant re-pen them and rope another ten or twelve head)
Well hell yes he did. And he loped off down the pen to bring the calves back. Everything went smooth again. James put together some very consistant, solid runs.
"Want another pen?" Arlen asked again.
"Yea, I think so, " James told him. As he re-penned the calves he was thinking, "Man this ALL..RIGHT. Good horse. Roping well. No untying has to be done. No turning out has to be done. This must be how the pros do it."
Arlen used to rope in the RCA, that's short for the PRCA which stands for the Professional Rodeo Cowboy's Association. If you've ever been to the San Antonio, Houston or Fort Worth Stock Shows to watch the rodeo, you've been to a PRCA rodeo. If you've ever been to the NFR in Las Vegas, you've been to the Super Bowl of rodeo and I just waisted your time explaining what the RCA is. ;)
Arlen always had some helpful tips when we roped and could put things in ways that only Arlen could put them. They were funny, easy to remember, wise and helpful with a sprinkle of smartass mixed in for good measure. These days it seems his son, Justin, has mastered this method as well.
Today, just like every other day, Arlen had a few tips for James as he went through each round. What James didn't know was that he was right smack in the middle of one of those lessons ever since the beginning of the second round.
At least thirty calves later after the last calve in the third round James rode back toward the box where Arlen met him with his question of the day.
"Wanna pen 'em again?" he practically begged.
After giving a fourth round some serious thought, James finally conceded.
"Man, I don't know. You think I should?" James asked partly hoping Arlen would say yes.
"He's your horse. Do whatever you want, " Arlen fired back with absolutely no help at all.
Arlen's indifference was uncommon, but whatever... James was just going to have to make the call.
"I don't think so, Arlen. I'm done," James said.
Well Arlen came unglued.
"It's about damn time, son! You've done roped thirty or forty head on the best horse in the state. You think he needs that many everyday?"
That wasn't a question James was even going to pretend to try to answer. So, he just sat there.
"Half the pros going down the road would kill to have a horse like that. I would have while I was going. You have to take care of him. Three or four a day. That's all he needs. Keeps him sharp and thirsty for it."
The longer pause was James' cue that either Arlen was regearing for another shot at James' ignorance or else he was done. Either way, James was headed for the roping box to quit Sonny. Calf roping was over for the day.
I told this story in the third person for two reasons:
- It's easier to read.
- That day made me a different person.
I'm no longer the James from the story. Many trainers/horse professionals taught me myriad tools to use with horses. But, I can also attribute a life lesson to every horse trainer I've ever ridden with and the story shared above tells of the one Arlen Walker blessed me with.
Be focused. Stay driven. BUT... Know When To Say When.
Jesus knew when to say when. One of the reasons I was so glad that Arlen wrote that comment is because the gospel reading for today matched up perfectly with this concept. Christ pushes Peter to his limits. "Do you love me?" "Do you love me?" "Do you love me?" Christ already knew. He had to show Peter. Arlen already knew. He had to show James.
Sometimes we're Christ in the story and sometimes we're Peter. It really doesn't matter which one we happen to be. What matters is that we are aware of the fact.
Do we have the fortitude it takes to push someone or something to their limit?
Do we have the wisdom it takes to know where our limits are in order to keep ourselves and others 'sharp and thirsty for it'?
Duty Calls
I am honored to get to post today as a guest. This is Tonni and I am filling in for James as he serves our government as a juror. As you read the other day, he was summoned, and surprisingly he was just what they were looking for! While I think both he and I would rather him be at the house going about daily business, I am glad someone with his moral compass is sitting in the juror's box. How long will this take? That is the million dollar question. Hopefully it will wrap up soon and he will be back to daily posts to Spiritual Horseman as usual. Stayed tuned...
In the meantime, I wanted to share with you a few of my favorite posts from Spiritual Horseman. If you are a vetern to the blog, I'd love to hear which are your favorites.
See the Miraculous in the common
The Struggle
Comfort Zones
Blessed By Down Syndrome
In the meantime, I wanted to share with you a few of my favorite posts from Spiritual Horseman. If you are a vetern to the blog, I'd love to hear which are your favorites.
See the Miraculous in the common
The Struggle
Comfort Zones
Blessed By Down Syndrome
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Up
The Ascension, usually celebrated the fortieth day after Easter Sunday was celebrated the following Sunday here in San Antonio. This is the celebration of Christ ascending to the heavens in the midst of the apostles. It was last Sunday and this Sunday is Pentecost. Pentecost, as most of you know, is when the Holy Spirit came upon the Apostles as described in Acts:2.OK, enough history lesson already. What does this have to do with us? Our lives.
UP: Looking up, gearing up and opening up.
Most of us run around with our heads in the sand, unprepared and withdrawn. It's OK, life tends to push us in that direction. We pile things on our plate in an effort to feel accomplished and provide for our families. Before long we're bogged down in it. We take a step back to look at the big picture only to realize that we have truly accomplished nothing. And we've failed to provide the one thing our family needs most... Ourselves.
Look Up
Like the apostles during the Ascension, spend more time looking to Christ. Sometimes just going outside and looking up can help you put your priorities in order. Get some perspective. That's no accident. He sees you and speaks to your heart. Actually looking up is quite the literal translation. Sometimes, we just need to quit focusing on ourselves, the money, the whatever and look to Christ. When the apostles saw Christ ascend toward the heavens, I gaurantee you they didn't have anything else at all in their minds other than awe. I can't even imagine. And this is the world we live in. It's full of inspiration and awe. Find it. Find Christ in your little corner of the world and look toward him.
Gear Up
Take time to prepare yourself for life. I know that sounds a little grandiose, so let's break it down a little. Everyday is a prayer. We are the Word of God. How will you speak for Him today? Take a second each morning and ask Him for a little courage, wisdom, clarity. He'll be there and it will FREAK YOU OUT. You may not hear what you want to hear. But it's not about you. When He prepared the disciples to present The Word to all the people gathered around that house, do you think they were ready. Heck no. They were scared to death. They're just people, like you and me. The last thing they wanted to do was make speeches to hundreds of people. And in languages they couldn't even speak?!?!?
I doubt that tounges of fire will light upon your head tomorrow morning. However, all you have to do to be ready to truly achieve is to ask Him what you should be achieving and how. He'll prepare you. Get ready.
Open Up
This is the hardest one for me personally. I'm naturally introverted and enjoy time alone. I guess that's why I'm so at peace with the horses. But, that's no excuse. It's our job to spread the good news.
Yes, THE good news is Christ's Resurrection. But, your good news on a daily basis may be something else. And no, it's not the latest town gossip. Just because you were first to know does not make it good news. ;) There's a fine line between opening up and not missing a good chance to shut the hell up.
Recently a jury summons arrived for me. I went yesterday, all day, and got picked. (but that's a whole other rant) While I was there, I made myself just walk up and speak to two total strangers. Those of you who know me know that this is crazy talk for me. But it's something I've been working on. And He rewarded me. One of the young men I spoke with was a computer engineer and I checked out his ASUS and we talked tech for quite a while. Enjoyable.
Next I chose an older gentleman figuring that the young guy with the sweet laptop was a subconscious cop out. Well, Wilson was recently employed by AMD and now works for Sony! He maintains the fabrication equipment used in the production of microprocessors. Score. We alked tech for a while, too.
As I reflected on this, I could not figure what His purpose was. Had I elivered whatever it was I was supposed to deliver to these men. Should I have mentioned something specific. Nope. Now I realize that the whole purpose was for Him to give me confidence in stepping out of my comfort zone. He opened me up. Just a little, but who knows what's next.
Get out there and open up. You are a treasure. Someone deserves to feel your greatness. You deserve to feel the greatness of someone else. You never have the pleasure if you stay in the corner with your head down.
Further Reading:
- Be Somebody!
- Advocacy
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