Cowboy Family in Colorado
November 15, 2016
We guessed that it might be fun to observe a modern-day cattle drive. So, I asked Pat’s great grand niece — Lynda Gleason — if we could come to Delta, Colorado to watch such an event. The cattle were to be driven about 50 miles from their summer range in the Uncompahgre National Forest down into the Gunnison River Valley. The operation required several days because the Cowboys do not push the cattle hard. They drive them slowly so that the cattle can graze and drink along the way — and not lose much weight.
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| Lynda and Jeremy Gleason |
Lynda is a modern-day super-woman — who works at a local feed store and also keeps the books for the cattle operations. She hunted and shot the Mule deer buck, dressed it out, cut up the backstrap steaks, fried them and served them for dinner to us guests and family. They were tender and tasty. Then she cleaned up the kitchen. One woman surrounded by four guys who wear their cowboy boots in the house. In this house, Lynda is the boss and doesn’t take sass from the boys — well, at least in theory. While cooking dinner, her son Kenny teased her about something so Lynda chased him across the kitchen, threatening him with a large cooking spoon. A few minutes later, he sidled up to his mom and put his arm around her waist and they hugged. The affection was palpable and it was all just good fun.
Lynda’s husband, Jeremy Gleason is a modern day cowboy. He manages a herd of about 400 cows that summer in Uncompahgre National Forest above their hometown of Delta, Colorado. The cattle graze on government land so the governmental bureaucrats dictate the terms. Last year the grazing fee was $1.50 per head per month but this year the fee has been increased to $2.50. Cattle prices are down so Jeremy works on strategies to keep the operation profitable.
Not anybody can obtain a grazing permit on government land. To obtain a permit, it is necessary to own or rent land adjacent to the government land where the cattle can spend the winter. According to Bureau of Land Management regulations, the cattle cannot spend the winter on government land so must be out by sometime in mid-October — before the winter snows arrive. But, this year the snows are late because they are having a warm “Indian summer” — defined as an autumn that is warmer than usual. However, south of Delta, the taller of the San Juan Mountains show white evidence of some recent snows that announce the inescapable fact that winter is coming.
Not all the cattle in the mountains could be found in the rugged mesas and canyons during the round-up, so they wait for the arrival of snow to help find them. Cow tracks in the snow make the task easier.
Delta, Colorado is a town of about 9000 folks at an elevation of around 5000 feet. Here, the Uncompahgre River joins the Gunnison River which flows out of the majestic Black Canyon of Gunnison National Park and eventually joins the Colorado River in Grand Junction — about 40 miles downstream. One of the primary attractions of Delta are the walking trails along the Gunnison River and around the lake in Confluence Park. It is a very special place. The town is nestled between Grand Mesa, Green Mesa, and the Uncompahgre Mesa. Corn is one of the dominant crops in the area so — after the corn is harvested — cattle from their summer range in the mountains are sometimes kept in these corn fields where they feed on residual corn seed and corn plant fodder for winter food. At least, that’s where Jeremy will hold his cattle during the winter.
Winter is a busy time for a cattleman. Cows drop their calves during this time and during winter storms a wise cowman keeps careful watch over his herd. A newborn, wet calf can tolerate some cold but can freeze to death when it is very cold. So, when a newborn calf is found when winter conditions are bad, it is brought into the barn or house where it is warmed and protected.
Family
Nick is a high school freshman who broke his right arm a few years back in an accident, so can’t throw a baseball or football. When we first arrived at the Gleason home, Nick was carrying a deer head by holding its antlers. Evidently, it was developing an unpleasant aroma or something and Nick was a little upset because he could not decide what to do with it. Lynda told him to just leave it alone — it doesn’t matter. “Wash your hands and get ready for dinner.”
Near the kitchen cabinet lay a pair of shiny cowboy spurs. The buckle on the spurs is made of leather that Nick had made to his personal taste. A lariat hangs on the railing post on the top of the stairs that lead down into the basement.
Of course, Nick is an accomplished horseman and we watched him handle the corral gates and the cattle passing through with the expertise necessary to demand the respect of the older cowmen.
Kenny Gleason is a charismatic teller-of-stories who seems destined to become a politician, radio announcer, auctioneer, tour guide or salesman. A fifth grader who pitches for the baseball team, Kenny plans to play on the football team. I learned this when he readily agreed to ride with me while following Lynda from our motel to her country home. If cowboys tend to less talkative than others, Kenny must be an exception.
Wyatt is a fifth-grade friend of Kenny’s who currently stays in the Gleason home so often that he is almost considered to be part of the family. Jeremy ruffles his hair affectionately — as he would his own sons. Wyatt is a wannabe paleontologist who might specialize in microraptors and has thoughts of attending Michigan State University.
Cattle Pens in the Desert
When the cows and their calves are driven down from their mountain graze, they are herded into a portable, metal pen beside the permanent loading chute. These pens are on a hill-top named the “Desert” which is located on the Richard Gore Ranch — not far from the Gunnison River. This pen is large enough to hold the cattle and for using cutting horses to separate (cut) the calves from the cows. Smaller pens hold the cows separate from the calves. So, there is a constant sound of calves bawling for their moms.
To my eyes, it was an almost incredibly smooth operation. The cutting horses did not move around rapidly chasing calves. Every movement was slow and deliberate to keep the calves and cows as calm as possible. When I arrived, I asked if it was OK to photograph the operation and the people. “As long as nobody complains, go for it” — I was told. I was also advised not to wave my arms or hat and not to shout because it might disturb the cattle and make their job harder.
Of course, these are not wild cattle — they are manageable, cross-bred cattle of Beefmaster, Herford, Angus, etc. breeds. Jeremy said “We don’t want wild cattle, but crossing the cattle results in a smarter animal that can survive in the mountains during the summer. Black Angus can be really dumb animals that may become stranded on the end of a mesa, see the water below but not be able to descend and die of thirst” — rather than head back up the mesa to safety.
Neighboring cowmen and woman assist each other during these events so there may have been about twelve men and two women working the cattle. They all seem to be very knowledgeable cow folks with a knack for handling cattle. After the calves have been cut, driving animals through the chutes and from pen to pen can be done on foot. After the calves were cut, a cattle buyer arrived, examined the calves, made an offer and the deal was made. It is preferred not to use the local cattle sale yard, partly because they charge $15 per head. These calves are then loaded on a cattle truck and taken to a feedlot someplace.
On the second day, we were lucky to observe the cow pregnancy testing operation. A veterinarian palpates each cow — feeling for the calf's head, a pulse in the artery supplying blood to the uterus, and the shape of the cow's uterus. The main benefit of this test is to detect non-pregnant cows — which receive a large circle painted on her back and has the switch of her tail removed (banged). Often these cows are sold from the herd because it is expensive to maintain a non-productive cow. The vet can also determine the approximate age of the calf in the pregnant cows.
We watched as a small group of cows were cut from the outer pens to be driven through the chutes and ultimately into the squeeze chute apparatus. When a cow is driven into the chute, she sees a large opening at the end and tries to escape through it. But, as soon as she sticks her head through the hole, the chute operator operates a clamping device which catches the cow behind the head so that she cannot move forward or backward. Now, she is in position for palpating, painting, worming, injecting antibiotics and “banged.” Each cow is identified by a tag in her ear on which is recorded the number and color of the tag. Being the bookkeeper, Lynda handles the duties of recording all this information, while simultaneously pouring worming liquid on the cow’s back, injecting the cow, or slapping a second cow on the snoot to make it back up when two cows try to enter the squeeze chute at once. She is good at her job — as are all the participants.
It is a very well-run operation and cows pass through the process one at a time — until one cow decides to escape the wooden holding chute by trying to jump out and breaking the top chute board. The chute operator quickly convinces her that real escape is impossible and she settles down for her turn in the squeeze chute.
Many thanks to Lynda, Jeremy and the boys, Mr. Gore and other team members for taking the time to visit with us and to answer the questions needed to write this two-day snapshot in their lives. I feel lucky and inspired to visit with this busy, hard working, loving family and their friends. Thanks also to all for putting up with my ever intrusive camera.
