Two Bulls and Tears

Today I cried. Not out of pain or sadness or sentimentality. But because of growth.

Thirteen years ago, at the age of 46, I got my first stock dog. I shed a lot of what I knew about dog training, learned better methods by following a few good mentors, and watched closely how my dogs reacted to my words and behaviors. A few years later, I started getting to know cattle, with sporadic sessions with friendly ranchers and some good reads.

At first, I kid you not, I couldn’t tell the difference between a bull and a cow. When I learned the difference, I was pretty darn intimidated by bulls. They are big, after all, and can be opinionated.

Thanks to several on-the-job teachers, kind and thoughtful ranchers and horsemen, I’ve learned some stuff. About cattle, land, fencing, weather, dogs, wildlife. About patience, strategy, wisdom, energies,perspectives.

My growth comes from navigating tons of self-doubt, discomfort (not just pain, insults, and injury, but getting outside my comfort zone), and episodes of fear, stress, low confidence, and buffoonery. My growth comes from saying ‘yes’ to opportunities and seeing a thread to follow in this haphazard thing called life.

Nowadays, I daywork part time. I cowboy in the dry land of Montezuma County and in the San Juan National Forest.

Today, I found two bulls (one of them blind in one eye and pretty ornery), penned them, loaded them, and dropped them off at the sale barn. I wasn’t alone. My smooth-operating dog and my greenish horse made us a team of three. But, yay, I was at the helm.