In the “seventies” we embarked on an enterprise, we decided to become purebred cattle breeders. We took on a herd of over a hundred Simmental cattle. Actually, some were half-bloods, then some three-quarters, and a few were seven-eights Simmental. They had been started by artificial insemination using Hereford cattle from Max Watts and Pinky Tolbert as a base. We continued to A.I. them for a few years but since Simmental bulls were becoming available we started to breed them “live cover.” One bull we used was a son of our #91 cow, sired by a well-known Simmental A.I. sire. He was massive, probably every bit of 2500 pounds in good flesh, we called him Giant. We purchased a bull from Bar 5 ranch named Capitan, also a monster bovine. They were supposed to be in separate pastures, but they constantly fought through the fences, often tearing down a hundred yards of fence in a night. We would repair fences, and they would tear them down. In the summers we would pull the bulls off the cows and put them up in individual pens to feed. They fought there too! One time they got in such a battle that Giant bodily heaved Capitan into the feed trough, upside down, all four feet up in the air “cuatro pa’ arriba”. He finally wriggled out. We decided we had to do something drastic. We had a friend who was selling Gallagher-Snell power fence. We asked him to come set up two pens with his wire and put these two thugs in them. When they were set up he told us that the wire carried two thousand volts, so be careful! We turned on the charger. As if on cue the two bulls started slowly lumbering toward each other. The new power fence was between them. They were grunting their “bull song” as they walked. It reminded me of, “I’m gonna whip yer…“ And then, “oh no you ain’t!” Finally their moist noses were about six inches from the fence. Simultaneously a white spark snapped off the wire to their nostrils. I expected a volcanic reaction. But it was like when the little guy in the movies punches the big guy. They each shook their massive heads, backed away from the fence, then turned and slowly walked away. We almost wet our pants laughing!

My grandkids and I were riding along in what we call the bottom pasture, a broad flat plain of grass between two tree lined creeks. We had two purposes. One was to find newborn calves and record their mother’s ear-tag numbers, and the color and gender of the calf. The other purpose was to have a nice trail ride. Trail riding is more about having time together than horsemanship. Trail riding is about being together, sometimes talking, sometimes just being. I like to ask the grandkids to tell me about their day at school. It varies how descriptive they are, but it gives them an opening to express themselves. There are no rules, just time, and the rhythm of the horses’ hooves. We were discussing a person who is overly talkative and I used the expression “She was vaccinated with a phonograph needle!”

The conversation came to a screeching halt. I realized that the only word in the sentence that these millennials could comprehend was “vaccinate“. They have no clue what a phonograph was, nor why a needle was involved. I had to explain about vinyl records, you know, the round platters with the hole in the middle with spiral grooves around them. Then I had to explain how the needle “picked up“ the vibration in the groove and put it through an amplifier for us to hear.

They’ve grown up with CD’s and DVDs, and digital sound. What I thought was merely a cute expression was an archaeology lesson for them!

My sister/cousin Natalie called the other day to discuss chili recipes. Days later I came across one that was given to me by a friend back in ‘95. It’s interesting and real different. I just remember that we sure enjoyed eating it. This recipe shows you how a little imagination and experimentation can sometimes produce more than decent vittles!

Warning:this chili is spicy!

The recipe: three pounds ground or chopped meat, two yellow onions chopped and sautéed, two green bell peppers, two red bell peppers, four poblano peppers and twelve fresh jalapeños all stemmed, chopped, and seeded. Now add two whole habaneros NOT chopped.Next, one package of Earl Campbell’s sausage (spicy), two twelve ounce cans of tomato paste,  one to two cans of tomato sauce, four cloves of garlic, two ham hocks, and four cans of Shiner Bock beer. Finally, two teaspoons of comino, a pinch of basil, and possibly some mild chili powder. My friend said he added five dried red-brown chilies and one yellow-green mystery pepper from someone’s garden, maybe a banana pepper. He browned the meat with the sausage. Then he dumped in the rest of the ingredients and cooked at heat while chopping up his peppers. Then he added the tomato sauce, the tomato paste, and the Shiner beer, and at last, the seasoning. Cook this at low, very low, temperatures for two days.

I’m here to tell you this was spicy chili, not for children or civilians!

Maybe it’s the weather, or maybe I’m just a curmudgeon as my wife suggests. But I frequently cogitate about what has happened to make horses in the 21st-century so inferior to those of our grandparents bred more than a century ago. The first influence it seems, is the trailer. In the 1930s ranchers who lived out where we do, had to ride horses to town or drive a horse drawn rig those same five miles in and back for their needs. Then, they rode out to check cattle, or to visit a neighbor, or to move steers to the sale barn the same five miles. Now, we load the cows in a stock trailer, put the horse in the back, and burn diesel to the livestock commission. The horse continually gets a piggyback ride. The ranchers who lived in town saddled up and rode out to the ranch where they’d check the cattle or penned and worked them. Then, in the evening they rode back to town. You get it, horses just aren’t getting the wet saddle blankets they once did.

But, there’s another worse problem. Futurities. Horses don’t attain skeletal maturity until around five years of age. Now, I don’t have anything against starting a colt’s education at age two. For that matter, I begin halter training at birth. What I take exception to is putting the kind of hard joint-pounding work on a two or three-year-old that’s required to get sliding stops, spins, rollbacks, and three foot fence jumps as required in futurities. And you wonder why equine veterinarians are so busy? We can lightly start a young horse to work at two or three, then turn them out to “soak” for a few months. When they come back we can do a lot of light slow work, and even sit on them and do nothing. They certainly learn patience from that. They learn one of the fundamentals of the training scale – relaxation. Later, as a four or five-year-old they can go do some ranch work with low expectations. After five, we can think about more demanding work with a mature skeleton, and some muscle development. Still, I’d like to think that my horse sees me coming and says “I wonder what fun thing we’re going to do today!”  Not “Oh, no, not Him again!”