Date: Fri, 31 Jan 1997 21:58:23 -0500
From: Charlie Ford <cford@mindspring.com>
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"