The Beef Industry

What They Don't Tell You

John Peirce

• Publisher: Sunstone Press
• eBook ISBN: 9781611394085
• Topic: Medicine
• Subtopic: Nutrition, Dietics & Bariatrics

Whether or not you are a beef consumer, are you satisfied that you know all you should about this product? Usual sources of information might, to a very large degree, not give adequate information about beef. Some of these sources might be biased—either f

Opening

My great granddad owned cattle. My grand-dad (1863–1923) was a cowboy. My dad (1910–1973) was a cowboy. I was ranch raised among the last of the great American cowboys. My dad used to say that “pickups and trailers ruined a lot of good horses.” Meaning that when horses began to get hauled around from place to place, they were not getting the miles put on them that made good horses.

As I grew up (born in 1945) hauling horses was common. My early memories include an old Dodge Power-Wagon, and a trailer often referred to as the “log-wagon” because it was made of rough, heavy timbers, designed to travel over very rough country. The ranch we lived on at the time was 42,000 acres—sixty-six square miles. It was seventeen miles from our house, out near the highway, down to the only set of cattle working pens on the east side of the river. We hauled horses down to this set of pens, and rode from there out into the various pastures to gather or check on the cattle as needed. Our usual mode of transportation was a plain Jane, single cab pickup and a gooseneck styled, twenty-foot trailer.

The ranch was split almost in half by the South Pease River. You probably would not even describe it as a river. It was up to a quarter of a mile wide, much narrower in most places, and ran a little water all of the time. During decent rains over the area, it ran a lot of water—bank to bank and would easily wash out all the fence-lines. Thus the term “water-gaping” came into play as we had to put the wire and staves (very small diameter cedar posts) back up and into place to hold the cattle in their respective pastures. Out of the river bed on both sides were good, strong corner posts that anchored the barb-wire (suspension) fence that we called a water-gap. This sandy river bottom had a lot of areas that were locally known as quicksand. When we crossed the river we always followed “cow-trails” to avoid the quicksand. Once in it, inadvertently, the horses raised around this river would flop down on their side and roll out of it. The saddle was an encumbrance, but they managed. The rider had to look out for himself.

My brother Joe (two years younger) and I were with dad every day that we were not in school. On days we actually gathered cattle, there would commonly be from twelve to seventeen cowboys present. This ranch was brushy, mesquite country, and the cattle would be considered wild by just about anyone’s standard. Though this historic old ranch had been sold a few years before, we still had significant numbers of maverick bulls, and a few assorted cows that had never been gathered after the ranch sold. If these cattle were branded at all, they carried the “one-winged V,” reflecting the ownership of the now defunct Matador Ranch.

James Koonsman standing behind the gate (in front of the cook-house) that displays the

one-winged V (used on cattle), and the 50 (used on horses) brands that were used on

the historic Matador Ranch. These brands continue to be used

by today’s Matador Ranch, owned by the Koch family.

I do not remember what the grown men (day-workers) got paid, but Joe and I got six dollars and eight dollars per day, respectively. It seemed like a lot of money at the time. It is odd sometimes at the things we remember when we look back many years later. One that often comes to mind is having to get up an hour earlier if we were working on the other side of the ranch—across the river. When working that side of the ranch men would ride (horseback) in from at least a couple of different directions to reach the designated meeting place for the day’s gathering (of the cattle). First one there commonly built a small fire as it was still dark at that time of the morning.

An old gentlemen named Red Payne (the last wagon-boss of the Matador’s) most commonly led this group of cowboys, dropping off a man periodically as we went around the back side of the pasture to be gathered. About the time there was just four or five of us left (behind Red), daybreak would just begin lighting up the eastern sky. Red would most commonly drop Joe off next to Dad, and send me around the outside, staying in contact with the outside fence. Meaning, that Dad would be there to help Joe, and Red would keep me where I needed to be. We were the only kids ever present at these workings. Gathering cattle in rough, brushy country, and trying to stay in line with all the other cowboys was not always an easy thing to accomplish for a kid. If you got too far ahead or too far behind, cattle would “leak-out” (slip out between cowboys and not be gathered). Some of these cows were real crafty in avoiding the gather. I have seen many a cow and her calf in heavy brush, standing still as a statue, trying not to be seen, just a few feet away. Once they knew they had been seen, all you would hear was the “popping” noise she made as her horns hit the brush, making a mad dash, trying to escape. The old seasoned horses that my dad put Joe and me on knew what to do. We just had to hang on, trying to avoid any limbs that would drag us off the horse. Often a little help would show up from one side or the other to get the cattle turned in the proper direction. It was a bad no-no to find yourself out of position (on the wrong side of the cowboy next to you). We would each top-out (ride to the top of small hill nearby) as we could to see where the cowboys on each side of us were. Otherwise we would simply “sing-out” (making a little verbal noise) occasionally to let others know where we were. Sometimes we might just be thirty or forty yards apart, and at other times considerably more than a hundred yards apart. There always seemed to be an event or two (more if it was a difficult gather) that necessitated a mad rush through the brush to head off some cattle determined not to be penned. I do not know that we ever got them all. Pasture head counts were just an approximation. It was not unusual to pen calves in the fall at shipping time (movement towards the feedyards) that had not been penned at the spring branding.

It varied as to the size and shape of the pasture, and how much trouble we had; but normally we would have the cattle penned by 10:30 or 11:00 AM. If it was a spring branding, the calves would be cut off from the mothers (separated into a different pen), leaving just a few cows with the calves. They were more comfortable if a few cows were still present. Spring working consisted of applying a hot iron to prove ownership, dehorning, castrating the bull calves, and administering vaccinations to prevent sickness.

Only the older (perhaps 50 years old and above) cowboys got to “drag calves” to the fire. This involved roping the calves (larger ones by the hind feet, and smaller calves around the neck), and bringing them out of the mass of calves, and up to where the cowboys (the flankers) could access them. “Flankers” worked in sets of two men each, using techniques taught to them by their fathers as fairly young kids—on small calves of course. These men would gain control of the calf, quickly removing the rope, allowing the dragger to quietly return to get another one.

Calves separated and ready to be worked.

Calves quietly awaiting procedures.

First calf brought to the flankers.

Routine procedures

accomplished efficiently.

Process quickly continues.

Most commonly we would have two if not three men dragging calves; each utilizing at least one set of flankers. With the calf properly restrained a “brander” (also a senior individual) would apply the hot iron. De horning and castration of bull calves was accomplished by “experienced” (middle aged) individuals. The vaccine gun might be managed by someone a little younger. Kids and young men were always on the flanking crew. Early on Joe and I handled the smallest calves. By about the sixth grade we were split up and teamed with a very experienced young man, handlin...

Table of contents

• Dedication
• Opening