When The Well Goes Dry

The other evening I could hear my lovely husband laughing so hard that I think he might have pissed himself while reading his elderly brother's blog. Ty also enjoys reading the North Dakota Water Magazine's humor column "When The Well Goes Dry" by rancher Dean Meyer. Periodically, I will be posting some of Dean's humorous columns for all of you to read. Hope you enjoy the November issue as much as Ty.

Hello,

Well, winter blew in last night. The fall has been perfect and we wrapped up our fall work. Not this falls' work, last falls. Our operation runs about a year behind. Which is good. We used to be two years behind.

So this morning it is dig under the snow and find the water hose and put it away. Find the heater for the horse tank and chip the ice away so it can be installed. Get a torch and thaw out the cow tanks and turn the automatic heaters on.

Find a crow bar and chip the horse trailer out so we can slide the door. Buy some ether, so we can start the tractor and park it where a cord will reach. Wean the calves, wean the colts, pick up the bulls. At least after all these years, we do know what needs to be done. I just hope Shirley can find her face mask. Her face seems to freeze easier than it used to. I can see that from the heated cab of the tractor.

I remember a bad storm years ago. We were sending a couple loads of yearling steers to a sale in Nebraska. Not because the market was better, but because we like to drive truck.

A nephew and I were driving our truck. We left a couple hours after the other trucks. In the middle of South Dakota we hit a blizzard. I mean a rip-roaring white-out storm like we used to get.

We crept along at a few miles an hour hoping to find shelter from the wind. At a junction north of Mitchell, we gave up. We turned the truck to the east to lessen the wind on the trailer, and crawled in the sleeper till morning. There were several trucks lined up at this junction.

During the night the temperature dropped and by morning our fuel was gelling up, and we could barely move. Didn't have enough power to back up and since it was still storming, we decided to just crawl along to the east. It was only three or four miles to a little town. I suppose it took us nearly an hour to make it that far.

As we reached this little town, I jumped out and ran into a little service station. It was really whipping up the snow. They looked at me like I was crazy when I asked if they knew where we could unload a load of yearlings.

They informed me the guy that ran the bar-steakhouse had a little feedlot on the edge of town. He would be glad to help. And I tell you he was. The roads were blocking. The bar was filling up with stranded travelers. He also owned a little hotel across from the bar. And a sales ring at a neighboring town. I would venture to say he was an entrepreneur.

This storm was like his Christmas sales, Fourth of July promotion, and fall festival rolled into one.

We were snowed in there for three days. By the third day, these strangers had become like close relatives. We hated each other. So, my nephew and I left the yearlings consigned to our host's cattle sale and headed north.

We called the trip a success. The cattle brought more than they would have during the storm in Nebraska. I won't say they brought enough to cover our meals, room, and bar tab, but what the heck. It was a storm party.

Shirley was home, feeding 400 cows and getting the kids to school while I was stranded in this steakhouse lounge with 20 lonely strangers. She frosted her cheeks a couple times.

When I got home five days later, and thought I should get to rest after my harrowing experience, she did not have any sympathy at all!

I swear that woman does not understand the trials and tribulations that I go through to keep her in warm winter clothing.

Later,

Dean