OCR Text |
Show calf. "Should I see .. ' was or go on?", i " to myself. What would m father do? I turned and ml toward the cry. It was ing from the bottom of a" gully. I dismounted J5 looked over the side to sJ not only the calf, but also m! father, laying very stm r. nearly rolled down the si'fe of the gully. My father waaa mass of dirt, but consclous He told me he thought his ankle was broken and per. haps his shoulder. Tears were rolling down my cheeks I was so thankful he alive. I made him as com. fortable as possible and went for mom. Later I learned what hnj happened. The calf hadsome. how become separated from the rest of the herd. When dad went looking for the cay he found the calf had slipped i into th e gully and couldn't I get out. Dad found a fairly safe spot to ride his horse down the side. After placing the calf over the saddle to front of him, they started to climb out of the eullv. Am Firsi hand oiiporionco before they reached the top the horse stumbled and they all rolled to the bottom, with the horse rolling over my father. It was a close call, but after a few weeks dad was all right. Now I am married to a cattleman and we are trying to raise our family in much the same way my father raised his. We usetheevents of every day cattle life to teach our children many of life's basic values. I earn, estly hope we can be as successful suc-cessful as my father. Death came to dad at the early age of fifty -seven from a sudden heart attack. However, he lives on In our family. I tell my children many stories of real -life experiences with my father that are much more interesting than any book. I owe much to my father and I will always honor his memory and the wonderful values he taught me. EDITOR'S NOTE: The following fol-lowing story won first place at the UtahCattlemen'sCon-vention UtahCattlemen'sCon-vention recently in the Cow-' belle's story contest. It will now be entered in the national nation-al contest. We think our readers read-ers will enjoy it. by Connie Chris Marshall It was nearly nine p.m. when the door opened with a sudden burst. Snow and sleet followed my father Into our utility room. "Hurry, get the water on to heat", he yelled to my mother, as he lay a new-born calf nearly frozen on the floor. Immediately I ran to get some old blankets and newspapers. news-papers. Having gone through the experience before, I knew what had to be done. Often this would happen in the chilling chill-ing cold of late winter. Calves would be born early and it would be a matter of life and death. Struggling for hours to come. We all worked together, r ubbing his body constantly to give it warmth and trying to get the calf to drink warm milk. Dad never left his side, never giving up hope. The calf bellowed and cried out for survival. Finally, he began be-gan to respond and smiles appeared all over our faces. Dad gave a big sigh of relief, saying he felt that the calf would make it. I remember many times when smiles didn't appear on our faces and the calf had died. I would always cry. At these times my father would put his arms around me and hold me until it was past. He would explain tome that events in life do not always al-ways turn out as we would like them to. He would urge m e to always give each chal -lenge my best and be strong whatever the outcome. My father was an outstanding outstand-ing cattleman. He rode the ranges in our valley from the age of ten until his recent death. He took great pride in his cattle herd, which consisted con-sisted of three hundred cows and three bulls. Raising young calves until they were large enough to sell was how he earned his living. It took a great deal of constant work and time. Each year was always al-ways a new beginning. Being a girl and growing up in cattle country was not always easy. I remember many times of doing chores while my friends were off playing. I spent many days working side by side with dad. He felt experiences should be first-hand. We branded, dehorned de-horned and vaccinated many times until blisters appeared appear-ed on his hands and sweat ran freely from his face. Still he was happy. Giving a hearty laugh he'd wink at me and say, "What could be more fun?" Then he'd dance a little jig around the hot irons. Of course, I'd begin to laugh, too. I remember one particular day when I was very young, about nine. We were herding cattle to some nearby pastures pas-tures for grazing. Dad tpld me to head the steers in one gate and the heifers in another an-other one. Well, I was really making a mess of it. Dad rode up and looked me right in the eyes. He started to laugh, and he laughed so hard I thought he would fall off his horse. "You don't know the difference between a heifer and a steer," he said. "No," I said. Then we both laughed. We spent the rest of the afternoon talking about life. Then I remember one spring day when I was sixteen. six-teen. Dad was out riding the range taking about sixty head of cows and calves to good grass range. He had told my mother and me that he would be home about three in the afternoon. When he hadn't returned by five I could see the anxious look in my mother's eyes. Just then his horse came running down the road, but my father wasn't on him! Mom and I both became be-came frantic! We knew something some-thing awful must have happened hap-pened to dad. I caught the horse and I told mom to drive the truck along the main road toward the grazing ground and I would follow the cow trail. I had ridden a considerable consider-able number of miles and darkness was filling in all around me when I heard the whiny bellowing of a young |