The Working Ranch Blogosphere

We’ve had the spotted owl, the fish and now the wolf. The ESA needs some serious renovation. Thanks again Tim for the great article in the June/July issue of Working Ranch Magazine,The Howling.
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Memorial Day is just barely behind us and already I’ve noticed that some folks have packed up their flags to be saved until they bring them out for Independence Day or if they are “real Patriots” they may even shake ‘em out and hang them up for Flag Day as well.
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It seems as though it was just a week or so ago, that the snow began to melt, the mercury began to rise, and shades of green began to form along the landscapes. The winter had once again been long and cold, but new hope was springing forth. The horse's winter coats were being curried away as, once again, blankets and saddles were donning their backs to go and gather the new crop of calves that had come like a new fallen snow.
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That cow out there that is 10, 12, or 15 years old and has raised a calf every year since she was 2 is the real money maker.
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I first want to apologize for my absence from the WR blogging world. Between my frustration with the seemingly endless drought and my worthlessness since I am now 8 months pregnant, I’ve been struggling to keep a positive outlook on ranching.
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Last summer I volunteered to be chaperone for our local rodeo court girls.
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I remember at Christmas time when I was a kid watching Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Oh, alright, I watch it every year. Anywho, you remember the island of misfit toys? You had the Jack-in-the-Box named Charlie. There was the square-wheeled train and the squirt gun that shot grape jelly. And of course you can't forget the cowboy who rode the ostrich. (I don't see what's so wrong with that. Anyone that can punch cows on a bird has got some talent I'd say. That and we've finally found a good use for birds.)
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I have to admit that I've always had this dream rolling around my mind like that can of warm soda under the seat of a pickup. I don't know exactly how it got there (the dream, not the proverbial can of soda). I believe it started with a naive young kid who watched the Horse Whisperer one too many times. For a while though, I've had the thought of someday living and working on a ranch in Montana.
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I'm not Little Red Riding Hood and I haven't seen Three Little Pigs in quite some time.
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I’ve mentioned before that ranchers enjoy different forms of entertainment than do most city folks. Ever since we moved here, some good friends of ours have been telling us about this little out-of-the-way restaurant a little ways north of here that we should try.
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