I crossed the mountains this weekend for a little open space. Alright, a lot of open space. In fact, I don't think there is anything but open space beyond the mountains.
The drive went well and was fairly uneventful. I had hoped to at least stop for a bathroom break but the rest stop was full. I pressed on.
The purpose of this weekend was of course to visit Craig and the family at the ranch but also to test the land-speed record of a 4-wheeler on the salt flats* of eastern Montana. It went well.
Alright not really, the goal of the weekend was moving the cattle. I missed the excitement of preg checking** on Thursday but I did make it for the brunch and all of the baby showers.
I got to the gate in time to jump on the back of Craig's 4-wheeler and help move a small herd of Corrientes. I attempted to urge them along in Spanish but it seems that they've forgotten their roots.
We moved the mamas and the baby's just fine but it was apparent that the bull had moved on to greener pastures, also known as a neighboring field. I wish I had pictures, or better yet a video, of this section of the weekend but I was too busy watching my life pass before my eyes. Don't get me wrong, Craig did an excellent job of piloting the 4-wheeler with me and the dog on the back*** all the while chasing a bull whose plans for the day did not include moving pastures.
Craig dodged and chased and circled and pushed the bull, along with Tom and his dog Jetty (4*), and I quietly hung on for dear life. Quietly that is until I asked Craig, right in the heat of the battle, to let me off. To let me off in the middle of a huge field. To let me off in the middle of a huge field with a bull that had already proven itself as feisty. I hadn't thought that plan through when I requested it. For instance, what was I planning on doing? Running? I might have been a sprinter in high school but let's be realistic...I'm no match for a 1,000 pound bull that's irritated.
Craig apparently has more foresight (5*) than I and his response to my request was "You're alright Love". And I was. The bull on the other hand did eventually change his address and was moved to the proper pasture, albeit by the force of a pickup with a trailer.
The rest of my 24-hour stay was quiet and wonderful, just what I needed after a long week. We headed out Sunday morning and lucky for me, Craig had a little extra room on his trailer.

*It's not really a salt flat but as I write this I'm drawing a blank and my information source is at home sleeping. Drat. A little body of water that dried up and left this residue.... alkali? Aargh, why didn't I pay more attention in science!
**Craig's sister, Nada, brought the ultrasound machine to do this. My question was how did they get the hooves in the stirrups.
***Until she fell off. Dogs are amazingly resilient though... she fell off, did a few rolls, found her feet again, and starting chasing the bull. I would have fallen off and been down for the count. Now that I think about that, maybe I should have just rolled off the back instead of asking to be let off. I'll store that for next time.
4*Until she fell off too.
5*Foresight, ranchsmarts, common sense, whatever. Craig did tell me later that I would have just been a target for the bull. I'm glad he's a thinker.