Vegetarian Ranchwife

The sheep have been in their winter pasture for almost two weeks now. It’s the southernmost pasture with big, open flats where we will feed them. It’s also the pasture surrounding our house. Kem had put them through the gate one morning early last week, and by the afternoon, they had already traveled a mile South. I had come up over a hill while taking the dogs for a walk and came upon them settling into the change. I called the unleashed dogs back, and we turned around, leaving the sheep in peace.

There’s something grounding about having here, like part of the family has returned from a long trip. In the summer, they are wild and free in the northern pastures. I only see them if I trek out with Kem for a few hours to check their water and put out salt. It’s hard to carve out that time when I have kids to get to theater, soccer and piano all in the opposite direction. Living on a ranch is some abstract ideas, with all the livestock existing only in my imagination. I don’t feel like much of a ranchwife these days; I’m a mom.

Earlier this fall, ranch life pushed itself to the center of my attention, as the yearling shipping made all its work demands. My connection to it all still comes from my kitchen, as I bake and make lunches for the big work days, but even if I’m just running lunch out, I still hear the distant moos of the cows as the guys were bringing down from their summer pasture. It may not sound like much, but this little bit of connection reminds me of this part of myself that, most days, feels lost.

I did have a few welcome days in the corrals. It may sound strange to call this my happy place, with all the noise and chaos even when things are going the way they’re supposed to. And, of course, things never go the way they’re supposed to. Equipment breaks, the cows don’t want to move, and there’s some crazy cow who jumps three fences and runs off. Even with all of this, I was lost in a daydream. With the sun on my face, I watched the cows who had made it through all the chaos, got their shots and headed off to graze peacefully. When the work day ended, the demands that had given way to make room, all came crashing back and I was scrambling to catch up. My mom life demanded payback for my few days of being a ranchwife.

Now that the sheep are in their winter home, my two selves can come back together. I see them as we go about our daily routine. Before the time change, we’d see the them tucked into the side of a hill, still bedded down in a close circle, as we drove into school in the morning. The other day, as we arrived home just before sunset, I could hear them calling to each other as they found a place to spend the night. In a few weeks, the cows will be here, too, and we’ll start the yearly feeding routine. Kem and the ranch hands will feed every day, but the kids and I will help on the weekends. The livestock are coming home for the winter, and I feel whole.