Wayne in BC
New member
Early summer 1957 was boring, i wanted to get down to my uncles ranch which was the only place my heart lay. The endless prairie called me to its hard working but footloose life while i moped around the Military post in Wainwright Alberta. A collection of 20 or so of 4 and 6 plex housing units next to the large base and a few miles from a town of some 1800 people and it held no attraction for me after i had spent time on the ranch. Never did i mind the 16 hour days often consisting of......5:30 am get the cows into the barn and start hand milking 26-36 of them. If nobody looking, squirt some milk to the barn cats who would stand on their hind legs with delight, catching the stream in mid air! Next turn the handle on the old cream separator for a 40 minutes or so, then feed the skim milk to the pigs and calves. Laugh as the dog trotted away after sneaking in to the pig trough, with his belly swollen and actually gurgling, remember not stand behind him that day
7:30 ish, breakfast for five, a dozen and a half eggs swimming in 2 inches of bacon fat in the huge cast iron pan, thick smoky bacon of course, fried potatoes and fresh bread toast. Then load the sacks of huge and delicious thick sandwiches and 2 qt sealers full of tea with cream and sugar, some cake or brownies, maybe cookies, all into the buggy and go get the team of Percheron crosses, hook em up and off to the hay fields 5 miles away by road/trail full of sand holes, alternating with hardpan just to get yer kidneys woke up.
Uncle would be gone already with the small tractor and i would arrive at the hayfield in a half hour or so, any sooner and i would be in dutch for overworking the horses. The old singleshot .22 was my constant Gopher/Badger slayer companion and a threat to the Coyotes that were a real problem in those days and places, taking chickens, turkeys, piglets, and even calves on occasion. The comforting little weapon also provided us with prairie Chickens (Sharptail grouse) to eat and harvested many a "Kings goat" (Bambi
)
Uncle Dave would be mowing the Prairie Wool grass with our only mechanized piece of equipment and i would hook up to the old horse rake and start windrowing. When i caught up to him i would switch to traveling down the windrows with the team and rake, raking the hay into bunches. later we would use the tractor and "buck" a large frame on skids which was dragged down the rows of bunches to make stacks. Later these stacks would be hand forked onto the hayrack and brought back home to be forked into the loft until it was full then forked into stacks in a corral next to the barn. What did not get brought home would be hauled home in winter with a hayrack on skids/skis or wheels in sometimes 30-40 below. You would let the Horses have their heads and they would go straight to the field while you wrapped up in an old quilt. Lots of warm happening while you were using a grain shovel to dig the stacks out of the snowdrifts then fork it on the rack, but when the rack was full and you still sweating a bunch, burrough into the hay like a gopher to keep from freezing and let the horses go home on their own.
The job of sitting on the rake and working the trip pedal got really boring at times and i would amuse myself by singing my young heart out, Ritchie Valens, Buddy Holly etc. Sometimes screeching out a note so awful that uncle Dave would stop the tractor and yell whats wrong? Thinking i had hollered at him, then grin as he realized it was just my cracking singing voice
I had the job down so pat that i could jump off the rake to chase a Rattlesnake or Badger with my trusty hoe handle, hopefully dispatch them and get back up on the seat with fancy footwork, very dangerous, and those of you folks who know about old horserakes with the long curved spikes understand i'm sure! Never did it when in sight of the adults The team of old Mares totally ignored my goofiness and just did their job.
One really fine day on that Horserake nearly turned into my funeral day when the team stepped into a Hornets nest, i had the young team that day, 3 year old geldings just broke to harness a few months earlier, they were kinda antsy and prancy at times so i behaved myself with them, having an itty bit of sense. I was well into singing a favorite ballad and not paying close attention when things went sideways with the Horses and Hornets and nearly lost my seat. I did lose the lines though and had a monster nasty problem! Two thoroughly stung and pizzed off young geldings were suddenly going full bore across a rough field and i had no way to turn or stop them!...........
Well we made a couple mighty long laps in that field as my poor uncle Dave stood there impotently hollering for me to grab the lines! There were few fences there and most a couple miles apart so that was a bonus, bad enough that the speed and rough ground plus my foot which was fear froze on the pedal had that old rake tripping constantly and clanging up and down, bringing me thoughts of being a human shishkabob if i fell under that bloody thing! With the fingers of both hands locked onto the edges of the steel seat in sheer terror i was damn reluctant to let go with one hand and bend over to grab the lines which were fluttering around below my feet. Then came a time when i could see that we were on smoother ground for a bit and i reached down and snatched ONE line! Perfect! Now just pull hard, pull hell! i heaved and hung on! Finally the two lathered up horses began making a tighter and tighter circle until they stopped exhausted and covered with lather but still danced and snorted while i tied the lines off then hopped/fell off the death trap and lay down in the grass and shook for a time.
It was just one of those accidents that happen and when uncle got to me he just said in his usual drawl, y'all raght? Yep i said, ........its about lunch time anyway he said......oh and don't be mentioning this to the wimmenfolk......no sir!
There was one little 20 ft patch of willow in the center of that hay field and that is where we left our lunch, there out of the 100 degree heat in the only shade for miles. We retired there and by the time i had some tea and a couple sandwiches down i felt fine again, mayhap still a bit shook but typical kid, ready for my favorite time. After lunch uncle Dave would nap for a half hour or so and i would grab the .22 and go hunting. I got a Coyote 10 minutes after setting out and all was right with the world again.
Well, the point of this story was quite different to begin with and began when my buddy JC came over to visit me today. he spent time in the same general area. We got talking about those days and the subject of the White Horse came up. I will tell you about it when i get done reliving ranch life for a bit
On Saturday bout a week after that little incident there was a summer dance and general hoorah scheduled at the nearest community, Hemaruka pop 31, the name sounds strange cause the town was named after the first two letters of the first four settlers wives......Helen, Mary, Ruth, and Kate. I had got into a bit of trouble and had been keeping a low profile so as not be left home on dance night! Odd how parents, relatives and such, take some things way too seriously. We had two wells, one was kinda yellow and tasted gross to city folk but was our drinking water. The other well was only for cattle, very deep it was, the water perfectly clear, and teeth cracking cold! Problem as that it was "soda water". Lots of Alkali in that area, the sloughs all had a white Alkali powder around the edges that was quite strong and nasty.
I had a couple town friends come for an overnight visit and in the course of our hooting around and getting thirsty they remarked that out water was awful and a moment later my cousin whispered to me........lets let them drink the soda water.
Now we knew that stuff tasted just fine when real cold and could even drink a bit ourselves without getting the galloping axhandles like most folks got from it who were not "adjusted". We had been told often enough to never let visitors drink it......My cousin was the devil not my idea at all......i did think it might be a tad humorous though, and those town kids had kinda ticked us off a time or two by semi jokingly calling us "hicks" so.......
Here guys, sorry, try this water, way better. They gulped it down and were happy for a couple hours and then the proverbial fan got real dirty! Seems the adults knew the symptoms too well and when them two ex town friends got all cramped up and began making like brown firehoses, we were in worse crap than they were
Those azzholes got to go home and be hugged and pampered and we got a lickin and a bunch of extra chores!! Stupid city kids!
Oh yeah a couple weeks previous the nasty nosy old neighbor (about the age WE are now) reckoned he seen me poaching a Deer and called the game Warden but we had the Venison hid in the well and nothing came of it but i was real ticked with him cause i had been told not to hunt within sight of his place (in that flat open country about 3 miles) and once the Warden left i got a dressing down. Cousin to the rescue again! ......
Cousin.......we gotta get that ol booger!
Me.....Yeah!
Cousin......we should wait till he is gone and put a Skunk in his bedroom!
Me.....Yeah!!!
Cousin......nope they would figure it out and we be dead!
Me....yeah
Cousin......hey i know! You member how he always comes down from the house and looks in the mailbox like he can't wait?
Me...yeah?
Cousin......what if we boxtrap a Skunk, put it in his mailbox after dark and raise the flag?
Me....YEAH!!!!
The deed was done! Skunks are easy to trap and will not spray in an enclosed space but don't be opening that space from close by
We had to sacrifice one of the chickens and go 20 miles to a creek twice to trap that Skunk, using the excuse that we were checking the Heifers.
The whole neighborhood was abuzz! I must have heard that old party line crank phone ring "central" a dozen times the day after (central was one long ring and meant everybody pick up) word was that the old goat had been dang near blinded by a Skunk in his mailbox. My uncle and Dad asked us kinda pointedly if we had seen many Skunks around and i remember saying........um, not around here. The looks we got told us that we best keep it zipped but the impression we got was, you guys watch it! And maybe just a hint of a grin.
Dance night, yippeee! The whole family packed up and headed for the hall Saturday evening. The women all loaded down with food, the men hiding booze. my Dad and Mom who were down for a couple days came also.
It was a fun time for us boys, the age where meeting some different girls and maybe sneaking off with them and then lying about the outcome being upon us and all wink Around about 11 pm my cousin the devil says......we need to get us some booze.........
Continued.....
Here is the old beast of a rake, minus the skimpy little steel bucket seat.
7:30 ish, breakfast for five, a dozen and a half eggs swimming in 2 inches of bacon fat in the huge cast iron pan, thick smoky bacon of course, fried potatoes and fresh bread toast. Then load the sacks of huge and delicious thick sandwiches and 2 qt sealers full of tea with cream and sugar, some cake or brownies, maybe cookies, all into the buggy and go get the team of Percheron crosses, hook em up and off to the hay fields 5 miles away by road/trail full of sand holes, alternating with hardpan just to get yer kidneys woke up.
Uncle would be gone already with the small tractor and i would arrive at the hayfield in a half hour or so, any sooner and i would be in dutch for overworking the horses. The old singleshot .22 was my constant Gopher/Badger slayer companion and a threat to the Coyotes that were a real problem in those days and places, taking chickens, turkeys, piglets, and even calves on occasion. The comforting little weapon also provided us with prairie Chickens (Sharptail grouse) to eat and harvested many a "Kings goat" (Bambi
)Uncle Dave would be mowing the Prairie Wool grass with our only mechanized piece of equipment and i would hook up to the old horse rake and start windrowing. When i caught up to him i would switch to traveling down the windrows with the team and rake, raking the hay into bunches. later we would use the tractor and "buck" a large frame on skids which was dragged down the rows of bunches to make stacks. Later these stacks would be hand forked onto the hayrack and brought back home to be forked into the loft until it was full then forked into stacks in a corral next to the barn. What did not get brought home would be hauled home in winter with a hayrack on skids/skis or wheels in sometimes 30-40 below. You would let the Horses have their heads and they would go straight to the field while you wrapped up in an old quilt. Lots of warm happening while you were using a grain shovel to dig the stacks out of the snowdrifts then fork it on the rack, but when the rack was full and you still sweating a bunch, burrough into the hay like a gopher to keep from freezing and let the horses go home on their own.
The job of sitting on the rake and working the trip pedal got really boring at times and i would amuse myself by singing my young heart out, Ritchie Valens, Buddy Holly etc. Sometimes screeching out a note so awful that uncle Dave would stop the tractor and yell whats wrong? Thinking i had hollered at him, then grin as he realized it was just my cracking singing voice
I had the job down so pat that i could jump off the rake to chase a Rattlesnake or Badger with my trusty hoe handle, hopefully dispatch them and get back up on the seat with fancy footwork, very dangerous, and those of you folks who know about old horserakes with the long curved spikes understand i'm sure! Never did it when in sight of the adults
The team of old Mares totally ignored my goofiness and just did their job.One really fine day on that Horserake nearly turned into my funeral day when the team stepped into a Hornets nest, i had the young team that day, 3 year old geldings just broke to harness a few months earlier, they were kinda antsy and prancy at times so i behaved myself with them, having an itty bit of sense. I was well into singing a favorite ballad and not paying close attention when things went sideways with the Horses and Hornets and nearly lost my seat. I did lose the lines though and had a monster nasty problem! Two thoroughly stung and pizzed off young geldings were suddenly going full bore across a rough field and i had no way to turn or stop them!...........
Well we made a couple mighty long laps in that field as my poor uncle Dave stood there impotently hollering for me to grab the lines! There were few fences there and most a couple miles apart so that was a bonus, bad enough that the speed and rough ground plus my foot which was fear froze on the pedal had that old rake tripping constantly and clanging up and down, bringing me thoughts of being a human shishkabob if i fell under that bloody thing! With the fingers of both hands locked onto the edges of the steel seat in sheer terror i was damn reluctant to let go with one hand and bend over to grab the lines which were fluttering around below my feet. Then came a time when i could see that we were on smoother ground for a bit and i reached down and snatched ONE line! Perfect! Now just pull hard, pull hell! i heaved and hung on! Finally the two lathered up horses began making a tighter and tighter circle until they stopped exhausted and covered with lather but still danced and snorted while i tied the lines off then hopped/fell off the death trap and lay down in the grass and shook for a time.
It was just one of those accidents that happen and when uncle got to me he just said in his usual drawl, y'all raght? Yep i said, ........its about lunch time anyway he said......oh and don't be mentioning this to the wimmenfolk......no sir!
There was one little 20 ft patch of willow in the center of that hay field and that is where we left our lunch, there out of the 100 degree heat in the only shade for miles. We retired there and by the time i had some tea and a couple sandwiches down i felt fine again, mayhap still a bit shook but typical kid, ready for my favorite time. After lunch uncle Dave would nap for a half hour or so and i would grab the .22 and go hunting. I got a Coyote 10 minutes after setting out and all was right with the world again.
Well, the point of this story was quite different to begin with and began when my buddy JC came over to visit me today. he spent time in the same general area. We got talking about those days and the subject of the White Horse came up. I will tell you about it when i get done reliving ranch life for a bit
On Saturday bout a week after that little incident there was a summer dance and general hoorah scheduled at the nearest community, Hemaruka pop 31, the name sounds strange cause the town was named after the first two letters of the first four settlers wives......Helen, Mary, Ruth, and Kate. I had got into a bit of trouble and had been keeping a low profile so as not be left home on dance night! Odd how parents, relatives and such, take some things way too seriously. We had two wells, one was kinda yellow and tasted gross to city folk but was our drinking water. The other well was only for cattle, very deep it was, the water perfectly clear, and teeth cracking cold! Problem as that it was "soda water". Lots of Alkali in that area, the sloughs all had a white Alkali powder around the edges that was quite strong and nasty.
I had a couple town friends come for an overnight visit and in the course of our hooting around and getting thirsty they remarked that out water was awful and a moment later my cousin whispered to me........lets let them drink the soda water.
Now we knew that stuff tasted just fine when real cold and could even drink a bit ourselves without getting the galloping axhandles like most folks got from it who were not "adjusted". We had been told often enough to never let visitors drink it......My cousin was the devil
not my idea at all......i did think it might be a tad humorous though, and those town kids had kinda ticked us off a time or two by semi jokingly calling us "hicks" so.......Here guys, sorry, try this water, way better. They gulped it down and were happy for a couple hours and then the proverbial fan got real dirty! Seems the adults knew the symptoms too well and when them two ex town friends got all cramped up and began making like brown firehoses, we were in worse crap than they were
Those azzholes got to go home and be hugged and pampered and we got a lickin and a bunch of extra chores!! Stupid city kids!Oh yeah a couple weeks previous the nasty nosy old neighbor (about the age WE are now) reckoned he seen me poaching a Deer and called the game Warden but we had the Venison hid in the well and nothing came of it but i was real ticked with him cause i had been told not to hunt within sight of his place (in that flat open country about 3 miles) and once the Warden left i got a dressing down. Cousin to the rescue again! ......
Cousin.......we gotta get that ol booger!
Me.....Yeah!
Cousin......we should wait till he is gone and put a Skunk in his bedroom!
Me.....Yeah!!!
Cousin......nope they would figure it out and we be dead!
Me....yeah
Cousin......hey i know! You member how he always comes down from the house and looks in the mailbox like he can't wait?
Me...yeah?
Cousin......what if we boxtrap a Skunk, put it in his mailbox after dark and raise the flag?
Me....YEAH!!!!
The deed was done! Skunks are easy to trap and will not spray in an enclosed space but don't be opening that space from close by
We had to sacrifice one of the chickens and go 20 miles to a creek twice to trap that Skunk, using the excuse that we were checking the Heifers.The whole neighborhood was abuzz! I must have heard that old party line crank phone ring "central" a dozen times the day after (central was one long ring and meant everybody pick up) word was that the old goat had been dang near blinded by a Skunk in his mailbox. My uncle and Dad asked us kinda pointedly if we had seen many Skunks around and i remember saying........um, not around here. The looks we got told us that we best keep it zipped but the impression we got was, you guys watch it! And maybe just a hint of a grin.
Dance night, yippeee! The whole family packed up and headed for the hall Saturday evening. The women all loaded down with food, the men hiding booze. my Dad and Mom who were down for a couple days came also.
It was a fun time for us boys, the age where meeting some different girls and maybe sneaking off with them and then lying about the outcome being upon us and all wink Around about 11 pm my cousin the devil says......we need to get us some booze.........
Continued.....
Here is the old beast of a rake, minus the skimpy little steel bucket seat.
Please have a great day! Kelley (Texas) 