Going Back in Time

I don't know why I was so drawn to this picture when I discovered it the other day. It is actually a picture of some of my Dad's family, not my own family growing up, but the scene is much the same as I remember as a child with the exception that at our ranch we would have had the younger kids sitting on the top rails or peeking through the lower rails of the corral watching the proceedings of the annual branding of the cattle from a safe distance.

The guys would go out on horseback and bring in the herd and drive them into a corral. Dad and the boys brought out half a 55-gallon barrel that they had cut for this purpose and built a fire in it to heat the branding irons. They had a couple of irons so that one could be getting hot while they were using the other one.

The calves would be cut out of the herd one at a time. The picture is self explanatory. The calf didn't have much chance to get away if the men were doing their job. Someone would hold the front legs while planting a knee in the calve's neck. Another would sit on the horse and keep the rope taut between the saddle horn and the calf's hind legs. When the calf was set, a runner would bring the first red hot brand over and hand it off to the man designated to brand the calf.

Looking at the picture, stirs the senses. Can you smell the pungent barnyard dust, the smoke from the fire and the distinct aroma of singed hair as the brand seared the flesh and forever marked that calf with the "2 Lazy Y" that claimed it ours? If you listen carefully you can hear the stirring of the cattle in the adjoining corral suddenly drowned out by the bawl of the calf now overpowered by the cowboys--now freed to hobble off to join the others. I wonder if animal rights activists still permit branding of cattle in such a manner. It does seem cruel when I think about it, but then it was just an accepted part of life for cattlemen.


I sometimes had the very important job of recording the proceedings. As they branded each calf they would call out "heifer" or "steer" and I would make a tally mark in the book so that Dad would know how many calves were born that spring. Each tally mark represented cash that could help pay down the grocery bill at the local market or help make the land payment or pay next year's taxes.

Yes, the tax assessor came out to the ranch every year and sat down with Dad and he made an accounting of all of his livestock to determine his taxes for that year. I can see Dad now mulling over his profits that never seemed to stretch quite as far as he wished. But he was a good provider. We didn't have a lot of extras, but we didn't go to bed hungry. If I missed a meal, it was my own choice because I was tired of one more supper of bread and milk. Funny thing---once in a while I will break some homemade bread into a bowl and pour milk over it and sit down and ENJOY it and fondly remember my childhood.