January 2011 River Ranch Diary

January 3rd of 2011 was the ninth anniversary of coming to live and work on the Cheyenne River Ranch. Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe that I have been here that long. I remember my first day of work: after I had moved into what was then my living space the call went out that someone had left a gate open and naturally the buffalo herd had wandered through it and were perhaps two miles away. We tracked them in almost a foot of snow. I think there were six or eight of us in trucks and on ATV’s. We easily brought them back into our pastures because bison seem to like to go back to where they came from. Erney calls them “the going’st back animals in the world.” He might be right.

The next day the bison were gone again. It appears that the same person who had left the gate open before had done it again. So we repeated the previous day’s activity—–but this time maybe four different people independently made certain the gate had been closed. The real problem with this sequence of events was not the buffalo; it was the time and energy taken away from our primary focus, enclosing a large pasture with a new fence.
We finished construction of that fence on January 23rd of 2002. The last corner post had been set; the last steel post had been driven; the last wire had been stretched; the last staple and wire clip had been placed. All that remained was putting the buffalo into the pasture and picking up all the odds and ends of wire, posts and other detritus that had been left along the way in our rush to complete the fence. So everyone went home and I remained alone on the ranch, taking care of the business that I had come here to do; watch over the herd, monitor the fence, care for the house and property, and maintain the buildings and machinery.

The young man I had replaced had left tools scattered about, had left broken machinery unrepaired, and never seemed to have got rid of trash. To Dan’s management practices none of this is acceptable. As a former Marine infantryman, I had long ago learned the value of keeping track and maintaining equipment. Losing or misplacing things like gloves, eating utensils, entrenching tool, or rifle cleaning gear simply is not (in today’s popular term) sustainable.

I have carried many, if not all, of these lessons with me these many years into my future. The difficulties I find are not the hardships of weather and labor, but rather the performing sometimes difficult tasks without breaking something or creating an accident, most of which are occasioned by haste or underestimating the potential for them. The second difficulty is working with others who do not necessarily share that sense or have an understanding about these things. At these times I try to let my experience as a teacher come into play and generate a slowdown so as not to break something or be a party to a mishap. I am not always successful, and truth be told, I have had my fair share of mishaps, miscalculations, and breakage. We usually call them “wrecks”, which are to be avoided if at all possible. Of course some wrecks just inexplicably happen.

We work on a daily basis with large animals and machinery; we also frequently work alone and in remote locations. It behooves us to be careful, thoughtful, and focused. That way we can play when the time for play comes around, and thankfully, we where are all healthy for this holiday season. (Except Dan, who had been in a horse-wreck.)