New Pens and Old Legacy

This week marked a momentous occasion at our place, we had new working pens built. I was like a little kid on Christmas morning as they were built, every night going down and looking at what had sprung up during the day. We had pondered these pens for a long time and I guess the best part of procrastination is that you have a lot of time to plan and think.  I am sure we will find places we will want to tweak and change but the result will make life a lot easier and much safer.

I also must admit that the building of the pens was a bit bittersweet. As much as I worried about our current set up there was a great deal of history that went with it. The pens had been there when Dad bought the place many years ago. They had been made from some of the biggest railroad ties I have ever seen. Many of them were still in place and they were still attached well enough that they were extremely hard to pull out. However, a shocking amount also fell over when the panels were disconnected. In recent years the pens were ringed with pickups and tractors bracing the outer fences.

The fence itself was a maze and tangle of panels, gates and wire. Over the years, as holes had developed, they were patched with whatever was at hand and usually in a hurry. This led to layers of material and many, many wires interwoven amongst them. It would have been a little embarrassing, but I have seen more pens like that then anything else. We make do, make things that are less than ideal work because new facilities cost money and that is always short.

Our pens were built in two phases. We had the old part that I had just described, and we had a newer portion. The newer part was built by my Mom and Dad probably more years ago than I would like to admit too. They don’t really seem all that old but honest reflection puts them at somewhere between twenty and thirty years old. I remember when they were built, and they were a winter long project.

I remember them well because they were a huge upgrade over the way we worked cows. Their design worked well, and they made life so much easier. They were made from hedge posts and cattle panels with a working alley of portable panels (panels that were heavier than heavy) and a working chute made by our local blacksmith that is still one of the best chutes I have ever used (and is part of the new facilities). They served their purpose well and did not owe us any money. However, years of wear and tear and the odd, unruly cow had taken their toll on what had once been sturdy, rock solid allies.

When we made the decision to upgrade I jumped at the chance to tear them down, I couldn’t wait to get the old out and make way for the new. However, as I worked away the layers of old and undid the posts my parents had planted I felt a twinge of sadness. I thought about all the hours and days I had spent working cattle in those pens. All the dust, mud, sunburns, scraps and cuts I had received. I thought about the decisions we had made and just how much I enjoy working with my cattle. Most of all I thought about my parents and my mother.

Mom passed away almost thirteen years ago, and I don’t think there was ever anyone who liked working cows better than Mom. My mother had an amazing talent for remembering each cow, her mother, her sire and every calf she had ever had. We didn’t need to bring records with us to work cows, we had mom. We never had to worry about tagging a cow wrong or mixing up pairs because she remembered each cow. I truly believe you could have put mom out with a pen of ten solid black cows with no tags and she could have identified each one. That is when I realized those old pens represented a piece of my mother and a tie to her legacy.

Just as Jennifer and I were proud of our new pipe corrals, Mom and Dad were proud of theirs. Those pens were top of the line like I hope ours are now. What hit me hardest was realizing that Mom and Dad were about the same age and at the same point in life that Jennifer and I are now. That made a happy project just a little bit bittersweet.

I am sure Mom would have agreed that the pens needed the updating and I am sure she would enjoy working cows in them. But I also have to admit that it made me wonder what the future holds for us. I wonder how much will change in the next thirty years and what changes my kids will want to make. I guess change is inevitable and often necessary. It is good as long as you remember where you came from and honor those who got you there.