Showing posts with label Nation's Center News. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nation's Center News. Show all posts

Thursday, May 8, 2014

Sheep Ranching in Govert, South Dakota, by Marie Kulisich

After writing about calving [Ain't She Sweet ... Calving in Harding County, South Dakota], I read the Nation's Center News with my pen, marking every mention of calving. Week after week my edition of the newspaper was so marked up, I could have connected the marks to fill in a picture of a calf. Then, a couple of editions ago, I saw the first mention of lambing along with the calving. Lambing continues now as the calving activity slows down. Marie Kulisich, the daughter of Mitch and Nikla Kulisich, told me about her experiences with lambing and sheep ranching in the 1930s and 1940s. Marie was born in Govert, South Dakota, and that is where she spent her childhood, attending school, and as a valued young ranch hand on the Kulisich Ranch. I am introducing Marie as a guest blogger.

SHEEP RANCHING IN GOVERT, SOUTH DAKOTA, by Guest Blogger, Marie Kulisich

I remember watching a program on TV about a veterinarian helping a cow give birth when she was having trouble, and I was reminded of how my dad did that with sheep, going in and turning the lamb so the ewe could birth her lamb easier. How did my dad know how to do that? Somehow whatever knowledge is needed comes to a sheep rancher intent on saving his sheep!

All the homesteaders in the Govert area first tried to farm, but the land was not good for farming. Then they tried cattle, but the grass was not good for cattle. Then they tried sheep. The sheep could eat the short grass that was close to the ground. The ranchers could make a better living from sheep, because they had two checks per year, one for each of two harvests: wool in the spring and the lambs in the fall. Cattle ranchers just had one check a year that being for the calves.

Lambing time was the first part of May, when the weather was warmer for those new babies. The lambs suckled soon after birth, and got by outside pretty well if it was dry. We did not have shed room for all the sheep and their lambs. We had "tepees" which were canvas, waterproof, small tent affairs with rods running through and around, with four sides that anchored into the ground and were big enough to cover a ewe and her new born lamb out on the prairie.

This tepee shelter kept the sheep and lambs dry if the day was cold and raining, and then you went out and brought the sheep and new lambs home before the day was over. Even today when I see rain and some snow in the air, I'm reminded of what a miserable day we'd have on the prairie at Govert herding sheep, maybe even a few first lambs arriving, and would have to use the little tepees to keep the newborns dry. The rest of the herd raced across the prairie, they too hated the wind!

Marie Kulisich on "Pony" carrying a new lamb in front of her.
I was often sent out to herd the "drop" bunch, the ewes that hadn't had their lambs yet. And one time I watched helplessly while an eagle swooped down across the draw from me, and took the new lamb up and away into the sky and its doom! I felt so bad!

My schoolmate, Evaline West, told me they once had a black ewe and she had black triplets. This is quite unusual and would make the news today. The sheep mother could only tend one lamb and the two other lambs became pets for Evaline and her sisters, Alice Mae and Shirley Jean. What was so cute were the names the girls gave their black lambs, something like Midnight and Lignite. They were ewes so were kept. We kept the black sheep as 'markers' within the herd. Like one black sheep for every 25 or 50 sheep so that when you brought the herd in at night you counted the black ones to get an estimate if you had them all.

The lambs without a sheep mother were called "bum lambs". Some ewes had twins but didn't have enough milk to feed two lambs, so one was taken away to be raised as a "bum" on a bottle. We used a pop bottle, with a store bought nipple and cow’s milk. I was supposed to feed the bums but my soft-hearted dad didn't want to wake me at five in the morning and would do it himself! I was fond of the bum lambs. They were my playmates, along with the dog, the cats, the saddle horse, and later that silly goat.

Dad had another option in dealing with bum lambs and that was to bond a bum lamb to a foster mother. If a ewe's lamb died, Dad would skin the dead lamb and tie the pelt on a bum lamb and shut the foster mother and foster lamb in together for a day or two until the ewe accepted the new baby. Sheep recognize their lambs by smell. Thus there was one more lamb for fall harvest! 

Then towards the end of May came "docking" time when lambs had their tails and testicles, called "wethers", cut off. Sheep were brought into the corral, and then my job was to catch the lambs and put them in the pen. Dad held the lamb in the pen and my brother, Tony, did the rest, not a pleasant job to be sure. I always held back the black lambs or black spotted ones until last, thinking I was giving them a reprieve.

Then next came shearing time, probably June. My memory of this was all the bleating as ewes and lambs were separated. The lambs were left outside the corral while ewes were run inside to pens by each shearer. When the shearing was done, the ewes were turned outside to find their bleating babies.

Outside the barn where the shearers were, a big scaffold was set up to hold the huge wool sacks. Tony was in the sack, tramping down the fleeces of wool to make a very tight sack. These sacks for wool were maybe 10 or 12 feet long, and they also had "ears", two on the bottom and two on top, so there was a way to handle them, loading on the truck at the ranch, and off again at the wool house at Newell.

Right after the sheep were sheared, we branded them. Our brand for the sheep was a "K". The branding tool - I think it was made from wood - was dipped in paint and then on the back of the sheep. Each rancher had a different color. I seem to remember that the Lale's brand was black, the Wests used green, and ours was red.

Then in September came the time to truck the lambs to market in Newell. Dad hired truckers to come in and haul lambs in the fall, and the big sacks of sheared wool in the spring, to Newell by truck. Leonard West was one of the truckers, no relation to Evaline. Leonard later married my sister, Ann. Frank Wald was one of the truckers when he was still living in Newell; later he moved to Govert.

Highway 79 was pretty good, but the couple of miles from the Govert store to the ranch was a country road, no more than a trail, no problem for the truckers as long as conditions were dry. The trail we used went across the Gee property to our place. Back then no one had much concern about trespassing, although you were expected to always shut gates, which was very important so the livestock didn't get out. The trucks used this trail across the Gee place when they came to get the lambs in the fall to ship to market, and the huge sacks of wool in the spring for the same reason. The truck had to ford the Moreau River as well, no bridges there for just one family!

I was amazed how my mother cooked for and served so many people when the truckers were out at the ranch, and that was when we lived in the granary after our house burned down, so we had little room. I think it was in the fall of 1937 when Leonard West and his brother, Bud, and Lee Post from Newell were there for supper. They were the truckers that came to haul the lamb crop to Newell for sale, and I'm sure a couple other men were there to help with the loading. What did my Mother feed all those people? I do realize it was a much simpler time then and I would guess she had a big roast or fried chicken, potatoes and gravy, homemade bread and butter, coffee and perhaps pie and that was it, but my mother served ample amounts and men like that! In the fall she might have had some garden stuff. And I am amazed at all the social interaction there was. These days were events!

We did not eat mutton or lamb. Mutton is not a very desirable meat, has a tallow taste and must be served very, very hot and spiced up like with rosemary. Besides, ewes produced the lambs and the wool which were our two cash crops per year and likewise, we would never kill a lamb.

We were grateful for the two incomes a year, the one in the spring for the wool and the other in the fall for the lambs. Many ranchers had a charge account at the Govert store and also at Brattons general store in Newell, and they paid up in spring when they sold the wool and in the fall when they sold the lambs. I'm more appreciative now of my parents and how they made it through the Depression when many of the ranchers were unable to pay even their real estate taxes. My parents were very conservative and carefully planned how to use the money from the wool and the lambs. Even during the Depression, we always had plenty to eat with our own milk, cream, homemade bread and butter, chickens and eggs, and Dad's garden.

My parents were both born in what is now Croatia. My dad had no ranching experience before he homesteaded near Govert. I'm so often going back in my thoughts to my dad's sheep raising operation, and wonder how did my dad know how to do all of this, how many sheep the land would feed, lambing time, docking time, shearing time, trucks coming in to haul out the big sacks of wool in the spring and when to have them come again in the fall to take out the lambs!

After the spring harvest of wool and the fall harvest of lambs, another year passes for the sheep rancher. As for me, I loved school and could hardly wait for school to start in the fall. Winter time for the rancher was slower, just herding sheep every day and battling the snowy, windy days of the winter ... 

... and listening to the wind blowing through the prairie grass. Marie and Kate

[Shared with gratitude to Marie Kulisich for recording her memories.]

Thursday, February 27, 2014

Ain't She Sweet ... Calving in Harding County, South Dakota

Flipping through the Nation's Center News ... reporting from Buffalo in Harding County, South Dakota ... an advertisement urged me to
Get Ready for Calving!

My response was near panic ... because in no way, shape, or form was I ready. Here I thought the prairie had been bred out of my family blood in the 85 years since Govert Van der Boom left his Govert, South Dakota, homestead. Maybe not.

I was surprised by my reaction. A big New York advertising firm would invest a billion dollars to provoke such a visceral reaction. Maybe more. Buffalo Hardware and Lumber knows New York style advertising is not necessary. Harding County ranchers would consider flashy advertising a waste of time, and a waste of good money. Norman Negaard, the owner, published this ad to encourage ranchers to buy their calving supplies locally. If Mr. Negaard was trying to create an effect, he may have gotten more than he expected when I inadvertently sucked in my breath, while both dread and excitement filled my gut.


What is going on here? I've never calved a night in my life. That's right ... night ... as in after the sun goes down and you can't see your finger in front of your nose, let alone the business end of a cow in labor. For those even more uninitiated than I am ... cows are not particularly considerate of their rancher's sleep. A Harding County rancher responds day and night for as many days and nights as it takes. Hardware Hank tells it like it is: spotlights, flashlights, lanterns, gloves, alarm clocks, feeder buckets and bottles. Oh my.

Your Harding County rancher was out mucking around during the coldest, the muddiest, the orneriest nights of the year to put that hamburger on your bun. The weather this time of year is unpredictable in the details, but overall the effect is cold and more cold. In February 2011 Myrna Giannonatti and Dean Wagner, who ranch up past Reva, were calving in double digits below zero, with the snow at 20 inches. Some years they see enough sunshine during the day to add mud to their freezing nights.

Myrna and Dean have, on occasion, invited me to pay a visit during calving and assume night watch at their ranch so they might finally get a full night's sleep. Could they be sincere? Would you trust me with your calves? I didn't think so. I have no illusions. I'm a town-girl and I will never know as much as a rancher knows even if a digital chip could be implanted in my brain. Come to think of it, from a rancher's perspective, turning over the night watch to me might have some entertainment value, as a rancher could be confident even cows know more than I do, and could well defend themselves against my ineptitude. I'm not sure what I would do when I saw that first small hoof appear from the birth canal. I might pray for reliable cell phone reception so I could wake up Myrna and Dean.

Artificial insemination has shortened the season of sleepless nights. But, even if a rancher has all the cows inseminated the same day, a cow can calve anywhere from 14 days before to 14 days after the gestation date, so yawning family members are still looking at 28 days of sleep deprivation, give or take. Add some ultrasound technology and calving can be more focused. Still, no shirking permitted here, those mama cows have to be checked every two hours, day and night. And what about Bessie who wants to go off and have her babies out of the limelight of the calving barn. Try finding her. Bessie? Bessie? Where are you Bessie?

I'm not inclined to ask anyone wearing a shoulder-length rubber glove the question you may be asking now: Why? If you think about it, you know why, and I don't want to appear disrespectful by asking this question of those who are the sworn guardians of their herds ... when, in fact, I respect them greatly. Simply put, on a ranch you do what needs doing, you do it because you want to. A rancher doesn't see calving as a bad deal, irrespective of the cold, the sucking muddy ground, the sleepless nights. Tell me if I'm wrong.

In the big picture, when you take on the commitment of ranching, calving becomes part of the annual ranch cycle. Part of the rhythm, part of the ranch culture, the lifestyle. Ranching is not something you do on weekends or between business deals; ranching is a life commitment. So what if you lose some sleep, wouldn't be the first time sleep was forfeit when ranching is your livelihood. If you don't put food on a table in the city, you don't put food on the table in the ranch house, or school shoes on your children's feet. These ranchers are people who appreciate the value of hard work and physical labor. They also appreciate the value of a community of ranchers with the same experiences. Shared experiences does create community ... I could only wish to be the spider on the wall at Buffalo Hardware and Lumber and overhear some of those ranching stories.

In the smaller picture ... or maybe this really is the bigger picture ... calving is part of the cycle of life. Who could deny the satisfaction of being so close ... rubber glove close ... to the advent of new life. Considering the ranch calf is not a pet, good ranching practice would be to deny attachment beyond regard, but a baby of any kind is a miracle. Miracles enrich the beholder, so no rancher can escape the magic of the initial sharing of life. Maybe within that capsule of time, a rancher is allowed to suppress the food chain image that later discourages attachments. Attachments do happen. Myrna wouldn't be the first rancher to name a bum calf or a handicapped calf and ladle on her special kind of attention.

As long as we are considering the big picture and the little picture, let's look at the really big picture. In theory at least, everyone contributes equally to an orderly society, the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker. Maybe a Harding County rancher contributes a little bit more. You can do without jeans with a designer label ... heaven knows, a Harding County rancher wouldn't be seen in them ... but can you do without hamburger, or a post roast, or one of Myrna's good thick steaks?

Maybe your association with ranching is somehow limited to that non-committal space between the plastic wrap and rigid foam tray on the meat counter of your grocery store. Make no mistake about it, calving is up close and personal. If you think you have the fortitude, go to YouTube and search "calving a cow". You'll discover video cameras may have become a fixture in the calving barn. Then, when you are able to once again blink your eyes, remember that calving is just one step of the life cycle, one step in the annual ranch cycle, one month, give or take, of twelve. Feeding America is no simple task. 

The more that remains in me of the prairie, the better. My grandfather, Govert Van der Boom, looked forward to a nice roast, and maybe he passed that on to me, too.

Listening to the wind blowing through the prairie grass. Kate

[Written with gratitude to Norman Negaard of Buffalo Hardware & Lumber in Buffalo, SD, for allowing me to re-print his advertisement, and to Myrna Giannonatti and Dean Wagner for indulging my curiosity about ranch operations.]

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Welcome to Govert, South Dakota, Home of the Govert Advance!

Thursdays are banner days for Linda and Wally Stephens in Buffalo, South Dakota, but any celebration slips under the radar. The Nation's Center News is on the street and this duo is deeply immersed in the next edition of their newspaper. This is a real ink and paper publication. A treasure.

Tonight a Harding County rancher will hunch over the kitchen table exhausted from a long day of haying. If the haying is finished, ranching always offers some task to keep a rancher out until after dark. The object of this rancher's attention is a late meal, beef is a good guess, the best hamburger, roasts and steaks known to mankind, locally raised and locally dressed ... and the Nation's Center News. Not so different from 100 years ago when each Thursday the Govert Advance reported the news of southeastern Harding County, except the early prairie homesteader's meal may have had more resemblance to a can of beans.

I live 550 miles from where Linda Stephens edits the Nation's Center News in Buffalo, South Dakota. The newspaper hits my mailbox by Monday most weeks. Not so different from 100 years ago when the Govert Advance was exported to the friends and relatives of the small community of Govert just north of the Butte County line, all of whom were eager to follow their loved ones in the news.

The Nation's Center News is always welcome in my house. The small-town newspaper falls open, and the noise of houses built too close to each other recedes. I think of my grandmother snapping open her Govert Advance 100 years ago in Govert, South Dakota, the evening quiet after a day of baking bread and cleaning a weathered frame house that would never completely succumb to broom or mere soap and water. Together once again, Gram and I catch up on the activity of the town, activity rotating in spiraling circles around the country store. I cheer on the Brink daughters and their rodeo exploits. Chat with South Dakota Representative Betty Olson, who writes the Grand River Roundup for the Nation's Center News, sharing her love of the people of Harding County and of the County's history. Not long ago Delbert Blume reminded me how painful a "snoot full of [porcupine] quills" must be. And, when I read reprints of the Old Inkslinger's column, I am conscious of how confusing the world can be without him.

I mention these three journalists because, in one sense or another, we've met. Betty Olson introduced me to researching Harding County in an exchange of emails a few years ago. Delbert Blume told me stories one hot summer day over lunch at the senior center in Buffalo, where everyone who is anyone gathered each week. I once wrote a fan letter to the Old Inkslinger, whom I consider to be a rockstar among historians. I feel a kinship with Alice Holcomb, but we've never met, except on the pages of the Nation's Center News. The mere mention of peach bread in her column one week will always be associated with her name.

So here's to you, Linda and Wally, and all of your journalists. Thank you for giving us the gift of the Nation's Center News. Yes, I received my renewal notice. I feel certain you don't need a large paper bag of zucchini during the zucchini harvest, but would you take two chickens? The Govert Advance was a dollar a year and the editor, Charles Laflin, accepted food and fuel in payment. No worries ... the check is in the mail.

Listening to the wind blowing through the prairie grass. Kate