Lo! What is that restless glimmer in the dale, that beacon of completed toil which approacheth on yonder lane?
Hark! ‘Tis a cattle pot, my darling, my love, cometh to take thy wretched beasts away to a land flowing with milk and honey.
(Confusing my genres a little bit there; I realize the preceding statements were Shakespeare meets Old Testament.)
What I mean to say is, for the next few mornings the cowboys here will be loading cattle pots (5 or more each day) with the PV yearlings that wintered here in the feedlot. The calves are headed for the PV’s sister ranch on Q Creek in the Shirley Mountains of Wyoming; they’ll summer on grass and head to another feedlot for finishing in the early fall.
For us, shipping the yearlings signifies the end of another feedlot season and the respite that brings. The feedlot, it’s safe to say, is definitely the stinkiest part of this job.
The first trucks were loaded this morning, will travel down to Wyoming and back today, and the same trucks will be loaded again tomorrow. And so on.
It’s the same thing that’s been happening here, every May, every year, for nearly two decades.
And yet, each spring when I spot that first cattle pot headed up the PV lane to fetch the first load of calves destined for Wyoming… well… my heart fairly leapeth with joy.
© Tami Blake