Earlier this week, I was visiting with some people from the eastern United States. We were talking about cattle and what type of land we run our cattle on. I explained that my family and I live in the high desert, which means a lot of brush.

Brush? From their mildly bewildered looks I could tell I needed to do a little more explaining.

Sage brush, rabbit brush, bitter brush…you know, BRUSH!

I am always amazed at the heights some brush can reach. If you are on foot, it feels as though you are walking through a maze. On horseback it is more manageable, but you have to keep a close eye on the calves to make sure they don’t get turned around and headed the wrong way. Brush provides habitat for game fowl and other wildlife.

It also provides the ideal setting for a giant game of bovine hide and seek.

Last weekend my husband and I took the kids camping. It was delightful. There were trees, running water, shade and cooler temperatures.

We had a grand time! The kids were in their element playing in the dirt, collecting their treasures (rocks and sticks) and marveling over the wildflowers.

My son practiced (and practiced and practiced...) the fine art of skipping rocks.

He was much better at rock splashing than rock skipping.

At ranch headquarters, where we live, the fields that aren't under irrigation are turning brown. Fire season has begun. We keep an eye out for lightening storms which often lead to smoke on the horizon. We talk about our fire plan: buildings or haystacks that are particularly vulnerable to fire and where the Cat is currently parked in case we need to start making fire lines.

So, to be on the mountain amidst all of this beautiful green was a wonderful mini-vacay for us. We played in the water, found beauty in ordinary rocks and stopped to smell the flowers, so to speak. We didn't relax completely though. My husband I could often be seen glancing at the sky watching for gathering storm clouds; always looking for plumes of smoke.

The temperature has been creeping higher and higher, into the upper 90's. The kids are hot and sweaty, the dogs are hot and panting, the cows are hot and...not eating well.

Our cattle do better when they spend the summer months on the mountain. It's cooler up there and when the temperature is lower they eat more which allows them to maintain better body condition. At the higher elevation, the growing season is later. So, while the grass down here at ranch headquarters is turning brown, the grass on the mountain is just reaching it's peak. Lush and green.

Over the course of three days, we trail the cows and calves up the mountain. We aren't in any hurry; we don't want to push the cattle too far in one day. Plus, the pace needs to be slow enough for the calves to keep up. Our cows make this trek each year, so they know that life is much better on the mountain. They don't argue. They tell their calf to stay close and start hiking up the trail.

Throughout the rest of the summer we will periodically move the cattle to different fields, based on how much grass they have consumed in their current field. We will start the trek back down the mountain in late September.

I am envious of these cows. I would love to move to the mountain and spend the next couple of months lolling about in the shade, eating all day, and enjoying the view. Not coming back down until fall settles in and the temperatures have returned to a non-sweltering range.

Instead, I am slogging my way through yet another 95° day, plotting how I can talk my husband into moving the family to the Great White North for the summer.

Wish me luck, I'm gonna need it.

Did you know that cowboying can be a real drag sometimes?

Although, that's not necessarily a bad thing. When we are cowboying, the cattle trail themselves out until the lead cows appear to be miles ahead of those cows at the end of the line. The cowboys who ride behind the herd, making sure the slowpokes keep moseying along, are riding in the drag. Typically, life in the drag is slower paced, not to mention a bit dusty.

The great thing about being in the drag is you don't have to drive! You don't have to know exactly where you are going. No need to know which gate to go through or which pasture is the final destination for the day. Trust me, this can be a good thing. When I first got married I was overwhelmed by all of the new country I needed to learn. So many names for fields, gates, buttes, mountains, creeks...it took me a while to figure it all out. While I was learning the lay of the land I spent a lot of time in the drag.

Riding in the drag is also a nice place for the kids to ride.

Or for somebody who spends more time taking pictures than moving cows.

Following up on the last post, were you wondering why we were on top of a mountain in the first place?

We were fixing fence; a never-ending job on this ranch.

Before we move cattle into a field, we ride around the perimeter of that field to check the fence. Sometimes we're lucky and there are only a few places that need patched up. On this occasion, there was a stretch of fence about 200 feet long where most of the wires were broken. Fences this high up on the mountain usually have several broken wires, damaged by either snow and high winds or herds of elk.

I have received a few emails asking about who owns Elk Mountain and the other areas in the photos from the last post.

It's somewhat difficult to answer those questions because there are so many agencies and individual people involved in the management of the lands on our ranch. There are multiple types of land ownership, including BLM, Forest Service, state lands and private lands.  In some areas, it is easy to assume only irrigated farmground is private and everything else must be federal lands. However, there are private lands scattered throughout most federal lands. It is difficult to distinguish between private land and federal land unless they are posted with signs. Some landowners do not mind recreational use on their private land. All they ask is that users pick up their trash, stay on the roads, respect structures and livestock, and leave the gates as they were found. Landowners who do not allow recreational use on their private land post No Trespassing signs.

At one time, a ranch's private lands were managed no differently than the surrounding federal lands. In recent years due to constant litigation and pressure on the federal agencies by enviromental extremist groups, federal lands have many management and use restrictions. Oftentimes these restrictions have the potential to put a rancher out of business. Therefore, private lands have become increasingly more important to the sustainability of individual ranches.

Jarbidge Mountains

"Mom, I can see EVERYWHERE!"

My son was on top of the world. Well, at least on top of a mountain which can certainly feel like the top of the world.

The northern most tip of the Schell Mountains.

From the top of Elk Mountain you can see for hundreds of miles. This is one of our favorite places on the ranch. My son was completely amazed at how far he could see. It was his first trip to the mountain this summer and he enjoyed every moment.

Ellen D Mountain

The Badlands in O'Neil Basin

You know what else was at the top of the mountain? A snowbank!! How wonderfully exciting is that to a seven-year old?  He climbed up and slid down repeatedly, making his own sled run. The beauty of sledding in July is the seat of your pants dries out quickly!

Threw a few snowballs at his Dad, of course.

What a great day!

Our yearlings have been enjoying the summer going from field to field in our rotational grazing system. Today we brought them to the corral to have a closer look.

They are all gaining weight, but some faster than others. So throughout the summer we gather the yearlings and sort them based on size.

We will sell the largest ones; those that weigh around 900 pounds. As these steers get larger they eat more and more grass. In order to continue our rotational grazing system and maintain the quality of the land and grass, we have to reduce the number of yearlings grazing in each field. 

Sorting may not be action-packed, however it is necessary in order for us to market appropriate sized cattle and be responsible stewards of our land.

We spent the holiday weekend at my parent's home in Wyoming. We had a grand time! The kids were all thoroughly spoiled by grandma & grandpa and loved spending time with their aunts, uncles, and cousins. I hope you, too, had a wonderful Fourth!

We arrived back home late this afternoon, so I am swamped with the usual laundry and chores that begin with unpacking the luggage. But, I haven't forgotten about you and wanted to catch up on a couple of housekeeping items:

First, I received a few emails asking me how the winner will be chosen for the Girl Talk Grill Givewaway. No single winner for this giveaway, it is for all of you! If you'd like one of those cute booklets, just email me your mailing address (or your wherever you would like it sent).

Second, did you know that Beef Matters is on Facebook? If it's more convenient for you to read blog posts via your Facebook account, just click "like" Beef Matters to see these posts on your Wall.

Tonight I'm going to tackle the laundry and tomorrow I plan get back to the regularly-scheduled-programming for the blog!

We have a new resident in our corral these days. This little killdeer has decided to move into our corral.

Obviously, corrals are generally used for the cows and horses around here. So what if a little bird moves in, she can fly away if trouble heads her way, right?

Well, not only has she moved into our corral, she has also made her current nest smack-dab under one of the gates. Her nest consists of many, many small rocks and pebbles...and four speckled eggs.

Everytime we go down to the barn she does the injured-wing routine.

The kids are amazed at what lengths she will go to when protecting her eggs. I try explaining to them that maternal instincts are mighty powerful. I, of course, draw the parallel of my own instinct to protect my children. My son immediately asks how come that instinct didn't kick in when he fell and scraped his arm at the pool? Or where was that instinct hiding when our youngest decided to walk on the kitchen table? My daughter chimes in, asking where my "insect" was when she scratched her knee.

I assured them the instinct is still there, but possibly my reflexes aren't up to par. Except when it comes to small children walking on the kitchen table. Oh yeah, reflexes kicked in then. I hurdled the laundry basket, Tonka dump truck and stick horses lying between me and the table, only to have my toddler laugh as I grabbed him off the table. Maternal instinct at that point was to turn him over to his father; let's see if Dad can vault across the kitchen in a single bound!

Thankfully the gate she has claimed as her own leads into only one pen. We have been able to avoid using that pen and plan to continue doing so. But, I am hoping these chicks hatch soon! I can't measure up to this mama bird's never-fail maternal instinct.