Shipping Memories

It's that time of year again, time to ship cattle.  Some neighbors used our pens the other morning to load out and things went less than stellar.  Like, my yard and flower beds are rather decimated after everyone decided to run through them over and over and over again.  As I watched all that unfold from the kitchen window I tried to go to my happy place in my mind and thought back to happier times of shipping with my dad growing up...



My dad is crazy.  Not in a 'oh, my fraternity brothers and I had quite the raucous soiree one evening' type of way but in a 'OH MY GOSH YOU STOPPED FOR BEER ON THE WAY TO THE HOSPITAL???' type of way.  (And that's a true story.  Not the fraternity part, the other part.)

Once upon a time, we were chasing a few stray steers that were pretty waspy and trying to get them back with the herd.  These calves may or may not have come from the southeast and had a touch of ear to them.

One calf darted away from the others and slid down a sheer embankment into a creek.  Dad never skipped a beat and chased after the steer, sliding down the 15 foot embankment like it was nothing.  I let out a little scream as I watched him drop.  I rode over to the edge of the ridge and looked down into the creek.  I remember him stopping his horse in the middle of the creek and turning around to look at me with a grin that stretched ear to ear.  "The man from Snowy River ain't got shit on me!" he shouted, and then he ran off to continue chasing the steer.



My older sister and I were helping my dad ship once with a big group of people.  In this group was a husband and his pregnant wife.  She was far enough along to have a protruding belly, but she still worked right alongside everyone else just fine.

The wife (who I am not naming for security purposes) had been using a hot shot, helping push cattle through the alley and up the loading chute onto the cattle pots.  In between loading two trucks she took a moment to really study her hot shot.  "I bet it doesn't hold a charge that long.  I bet it doesn't even hurt all that much."  She walked over to her unsuspecting husband and barely touched his leg with the long, yellow stick.

We all heard the familiar POP of the hot shot and watched as her dearly beloved instantly lost all feeling in his leg and hit the ground.  He glanced around in an attempt to figure out what had happened.  When he saw his wife holding a hot shot he slowly started to limp towards her like the villain in every horror movie that's ever been made.

She had tears of laughter in her eyes as she backed away from him, holding her belly.  "Remember the baby, honey.  Remember the baby!"



I definitely remember the food.  When we would get done shipping by mid-morning there would always be a feast waiting on us at whomever's house we were near.  As a kid I definitely appreciated the meals, but now as an adult I feel awe-struck when I think back at what those women could accomplish.  Brisket, beans, potatoes, salad, pies, and cookies filled those tables.  My husband definitely is getting the shaft these days.  Poor fella.  Good thing he never reads this blog.