Date: Fri, 31 Jan 1997 21:58:23 -0500 From: Charlie Ford Subject: Austin to Taos, Part II of III Tuesday........... On Tuesday I woke to cloudy overcast skies, that the sun did a job on. it seems to suck the life right out of them creating a beautifully clear day, and most of all not much wind. I hit the interstate for the short jaunt to 84 north again, the bus running like a jewel, I was happy to be once again viewing the landscape. Progressing up Highway 84 I started hitting some rolling hills rising into the high plains of west Texas, this is where there is little farming done except for raising beef cattle, that says a bunch right there. Along the highway I passed several cowpens, no not one of those that heards in maybe three or four hundred head, but much bigger. TThe one I chose to stop at, the Sudan Cattle Feed Company, run by a gentleman named Ron Akins housed 21,000 head of prime Texas beef. I stopped and asked if I could take a walk around the yard, I was told I was welcome to go anywhere on the premises I liked. So off I went. The arousing smell of beef cow dung taking the place of the dull stuff on the plains, like wine as compared to beer, or the other way around according to where you were raised. The smell of a cattle farm is one thing, but the smell of a cowpen the size of this one is something else all its own. In southern Georgia I worked on a farm that bred Holstiens. I found out then that it is one heck of a business and that one hasn't lived until he has had one arm up the anus of the cow while injected the sperm into the cervix with the other. Each day there are chores to be attended like mending a broken fence; cows to be cared for individually and as groups, and the daily attention just chcking the herd. You have hands to help you do this mandatory and very tough work. In southern Georgia you would hire some laborers, a coupl or three, here you hire cowboys and here you hire many. They are the folks that love the smell, the cows, and the chores the most. it is not a job, it truly is a way of life. The first person I met as I wandered around was my first real cowboy. His name was Augustine, a mexicali that as compared to me would be a very small man in size, but on his horse he rode among the cows like a mighty king viewing his most humble servants and they were reverant of his presence. Augustine had fangs, yes fangs like Dracula. When he smiled he showed all of his teeth, and as yellow as they were they glowed almost white when outlined by his dry windchapped face. He wore chap leathers on his legs, a heavy woolen jacket, gloves, a bandanna, and a rough looking old cowboy hat. He said he had been doing this work since he was a child. he said the pay was not great but at least he had something to do and he was outside. He explained he had with the Sudan for fourteen years, and that they were good to work for. His task was to ride the heard each day and separate out the sick cows and drive them to the hospital pens or to the boneyard for disposal. I got a couple pictures of him while he was working and I think it made him proud that someone wanted his picture. I was happy to please him with my attention and questions. i walked a bit further down one of the feeder truck paths. these are long straght, narrow lanes that allow the feed truck equipped with an auger and shoot to drive along and dispense the scheduled daily rations to the bovine staring from inside the steel fencing. As I walked the curious heffers that all cows are stared at me as if I were something from outer space. They would lurch and run away at the slightest quick movement. I have always wandered about how one animal could grow to be so big, yet so stupid. I have seen cows walk right up to a raging fire and stand so close that the hair on the forehead starts to singe, only to all of a sudden run out across the pasture, tails stuck straight up in the air in an effort to cool their heads. the ones waiting behind them would come up and do the smae thing as if they were rotating shifts and seeing which one could tolerate the most heat. They were entertaining but I was approaching the hospital pens. I spoke with the vet about the cattle and what problems they see with them. of course I asked him if he had seen any madcow disease, he said no to all of you that are curious. he said this strain of beef was pretty much susceptable to the same diseases the ones of the east were and they were all injected when they came in to the pens. One man named Jorge stood with Jose while he explained these things but never said a word in addition to what was said, I don't think he new english or either his job was to stand there and smile, because that is what he did the whole time we talked. He was very good at it, and he had clean teeth so that was a plus. After that I started getting abit chilly and headed back toward the office. The Manager, Ron Akins, and the assistant manager (can't remember his name) were also very good to talk with, they gave me some of their time to help me understand more about cattle in west Texas. A very good time was had by all. We smiled, shook hands, and back on the road again. On to Clovis, NM the destination of the day. I actually drove on past Clovis to Ft. Sumner, NM. Then on to Sumner Lake State Park to camp for the night. On this leg of route 84, I wound my way across high mesa's, gradual grades, and mexicali villages moving toward even higher altitude. I arrived at Sumner State Park at sunset. This little park is the most well kept State Park I have seen since I left Georgia. It is cared for by the New Mexico Conservation Corps and these volunteers have done a great deed for outdoors people. i recomend a visit there too anyone that might be passing this way. Each plug in site has a little adobe casa that houses a picnic table. I found them to be great spots to ease up for the evening. The lake is a beautiful resevoir of fresh water that serves the farms and the sportsman with eqeal value. the sites are quiest and unlike some I have seen they don't disrupt the landscape at all. The colors fit the soil they were formed with Continued next post "79" Transporter, dressed for the road The Mothership The"Turning 40 Nostalgic VW Service Tour, and Search for the Beginning of Wind". www.armory.com/~y21cvb/charlie/charlie.html "Wider still and wider.....shall thy bounds be set"