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| The ranch |
Production sale day.
The highlight of the Stringam Ranch year. Black Friday in our ranching world.
The catalogs have been printed, painstakingly hand-addressed (ugh!) and mailed out.
All over the world.
The cattle have been groomed, trimmed, tucked in and kissed good night.
The ranch site has been mowed, scoured, repaired and painted.
Now it sparkles like a new penny in the dawning sun as the crew slowly climbs out of bed.
Some (my parents) might not have seen their bed.
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| Arrivals start |
Breakfast is on the table and Mom is a blur of motion as she tries to do three things at once.
A shout from the barnyard. “They’re here!”
A glance out the window. Sure enough, the first of a long line of vehicles is moving slowly up the ranch drive.
From then on, the day is a series of impressions.
Snapshots.
Greeting and handshaking.
Parking cars and the trickier trucks and trailers.
Handing out catalogues.
Tending the coffee and the all-important donuts.
Making sure the auctioneer staff are comfortable and cared for.
Dusting the bleachers, ready for customer bottoms.
Hearing the shouts and movement from the pens behind the sale barn.
The warm up patter from the auctioneer on the stand as he gathers the chatting, laughing, gesticulating crowd.
An open gate and the first animal, an outstanding heifer, in the ring.
The auctioneer assistant, armed with a cane, moving her about.
Oohs and aahs from the crowd as they thumb their catalogues, looking for this entry.
More chatter from the man with the mike.
Bidding.
The smack of the gavel.
Another open gate and the now-nervous heifer gladly disappearing.
Gates open.
Gates close.
Shouts from the pens as stock is shuffled into catalogue order.
Animals in.
Animals out.
Pounding of the gavel.
Talk and laughter as the auctioneer plays with the crowd.
The final animal, a 2000 pound bull, in the pen.
Final strike of the mallet.
Much laughter. The crowd is well aware of the almost fanatic fence maintenance required by the ranch owner.
And the unlikely possibility of anything four-legged crawling through with mischief/romance in mind.
Everyone moving down the hill toward the long tables set out in front of the ranch house.
Tables groaning with mountains of Stringam beef, salads, rolls, and every other good thing.
A buzz of contented ‘people noise’ as food is consumed.
Sounds of vehicles as buyers take turns backing up to the loading chutes.
Visiting. Laughter.
The crowd slowly dwindling, along with the sunlight.
Finally, peace.
The mercury-vapour barnyard lamp shining on the faces of a family of people, collapsed in chairs in front of the house.
Tomorrow the whole process begins again, from the beginning, with breeding, calving, culling, choosing, feeding, grooming and all the processes within the processes. But for this minute, everyone is quietly, happily exhausted.
It’s been a good day. A good year.
You had me at the donuts.
ReplyDeleteThe best part, Carol!
DeleteI used to love going to auctions with dad.
ReplyDeleteI love auctions, too! Writing this, I remember why!
DeleteI suspect that sleep was sound and deep on those nights. And totally deserved.
ReplyDeleteI think my parents slept for a week!
DeleteMy closet to any of this was the Iowa County Fair. The work your family did was hard work, good work, and sometimes filled with emotion. You had to say goodbye to those animals.
ReplyDeleteThat part was hard for sure! But it was always the expected end-game, so we went onto it knowing many of the animals we lavished love on would be moving on to other pastures--literally!
DeleteJust thinking of all the work that went into this. This lazy city gal never would have lasted an hour in your family. I have never (believe it or not!) been to an auction, farm related or not. Now the food...I can only imagine the cleanup!
ReplyDeleteYou know what's weird, Alana, is that I can't remember ever helping out in the kitchens. I was always out in the pens with the cattle. And the boys! ;)
DeleteMy mother spent many years living on a farm but we grew up in the city mostly. We'd occasionally go to the state fair to see the animals which was fun. My high school had a school farm for the 4H club but I wasn't a member.
ReplyDeleteWhat a life, rugged and good and full.
ReplyDelete