Every year on the ranch, we test out a few new ideas. This year, instead of taking blood samples from the cows to send to a lab for pregnancy results, I turned our kitchen table into a lab and ran the samples myself. The cost per test was about the same, but without boxing samples and hauling them to the post office, shucking out a bundle for postage, and waiting a week for results. This year, four cows showed “open” (not pregnant). Rectal palpation exam on those four found that three were actually pregnant.

For those of you unclear on the meaning of “rectal palpation,” it refers to sticking one’s hand up a cow’s backside to check if there’s anyone hanging out in the reproductive tract. The big upgrade in this endeavor since the days of Jim Herriot is armpit-length plastic gloves. Though the company won’t stand behind it, I used the test on mares, too, and allayed my concerns about one of the stallions who had a fever just before breeding season. Turns out he was in good working order.

Another new feature on the ranch is a catch pen to gather the cows and mares from summer pasture. The previous temporary enclosure (temporary equals fifteen years) comprised mismatched, rusty, bent steel panels connected with wire and hope. It tested our patience and fortitude every time the cows shoved against it leaving us to wonder if it would hold or if it would squash whoever was on the other side. The new gates actually swing! On hinges! The crew who assembled the new pen included Bernie’s sister Maria on her first voyage to Dinosaur Ranch, all four kids, and Bernie’s brother Todd and wife Diane who helped move the inaugural loads of cattle through the new apparatus. All in all, a raving success.

For the past two years, due to drought and hay fire, we had to winter the cows on what is normally their summer pasture. This involved sixty-mile round trips to run water. Once on scene, we had to wait for all the critters to get a drink. Sometimes getting to the tanks involved wading a half mile through knee-deep snow in single digit temperatures and double digit wind because the road was snowed shut.

There were definitely highlights to these trips. One was the concoction of the great escape in the end of my novel Mrs. Garrity. Another was impromptu horse rides (bareback because it’s warmer that way). And because a kid showed me how to use my phone as a library, I read all of Craig Johnson’s Longmire series, most of Aline Templeton’s DI Fleming series, and the first dozen Ruth Galloway books by Elly Griffiths while waiting for the tanks to fill. All in all, I am glad, however, that we raised enough hay this summer to bring the cows home for the winter. Their pond is spring-fed, so they are able to drink fresh water despite below-freezing temperatures.