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"This marvelous collection of stories from the modern ranching West all share a hard edge that is both as starkly realistic and irresistibly engaging as the land itself. These stories perfectly capture a vanishing breed of modern ranch men and women making a last stand in the changing West."Paul Andrew Hutton, Executive Director, Western History Association and author and documentary film producer.
Books by Gwen Petersen
The Greenhorn's Guide to the Woolly West
How to be Elderly: A User's Guide
The Ranch Woman's Manual
If you would like to She'd love to hear from you.
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| American Western Magazine |
May 10, 2004
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More columns by Gwen Petersen: View Archives
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 ...a weekly
Ranch & Country Life column
Springtime on the ranch can strengthen or destroy relationships.
He was a strapping young man from the City. She was a petite young woman from a sheep and cattle ranch.
He worked out in a gym; he lifted weights; he jogged; he owned a Harley and six pairs of leather trousers. She worked out--on the ranch; she calved out heifers and lambed out ewes; she lifted newborns to make sure they were breathing; she owned three pairs of leather chaps and fourteen pairs of yellow cotton gloves.
They each attended the farm-machinery, auto, and motorcycle show. He was eyeing jazzy new cycles and cool convertibles. She was inspecting four-wheelers and horsetrailers. They met at the hotdog stand. It was lust at first sight on his part; it was gosh-he's-cute on her part.
He bought her a hotdog. She smiled and accepted the dog.
They walked; they talked.
He told her his life story. She told him hers. He said he'd never been on a ranch. She said she was going to be working the sheep on the morrow.
He wondered what that meant. She told him the buck lambs were going to be turned into wether lambs. He still wondered what that meant. She told him that the male lambs were going to be deprived of a certain portion of their reproductive equipment.
He winced. She gave him a beaming smile and invited him to visit the ranch on the morrow. He smiled back and accepted.
Next day she and Dover-the-Dog herded a hundred ewes with lambs at their heels into the sheep barn. He shut the gate after them and smiled.
She showed him how to sort off the lambs and smiled. He accommodated quickly, enjoying his ranching experience. She brought out a bag of banding rings from her pocket. He wondered what those little round green Cheerio-looking things were for. She told him. He winced.
She showed him how to pick up a lamb, sit it on its rear on the battered bench and prop the lamb's back against his chest. He caught on quickly and smiled.
She went to work placing rubber rings around lambs' ...er, components.
He winced, but gamely carried on.
He grew fatigued. They were down to the last two lambs. Fortunately, one was a ewe.
He grabbed the buck lamb and positioned him. She reached for a banding ring. The bag was empty. Her pockets were empty.
He offered sympathy; he smiled.
She said never mind, she'd do this lamb the old fashioned way. She whipped out her pocket knife, cut the sack, squeezed the jewels, reached down, clamped them between her teeth, pulled, broke the connecting tissue and spat--all in the space of less than thirty seconds.
She looked up to see his eyes roll back in his head; she watched him faint dead away. She smiled.
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Copyright © 2004 Gwen Petersen. All rights reserved.
about the author...
Gwen Petersen shares her Big Timber home with an assortment of miniature horses and other unusual critters, including her helpful cat, Laptop. Keeping her computer keys afire with unique thoughts bursting from her psyche occupies Gwen most nights which the average writers fills with useless sleep.
Gwen is frequently in demand as a banquet-entertainment speaker and cowgirl poet. Her weekly Sow's Ear column appears in several newspapers and magazines, including The Fence Post.
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