On the way home from the farm Uncle Harvey Taylor told
Dan and I that he wanted us to go with the milk cows up to the milk cow
camp on the Arroyo Seco. He told us to be ready at five o'clock the next
morning and he would take us up and get us started. I told mother that I
was being sent up with the cows and that I would need a lunch for the
next day. The milk truck would be by for my bed and camp.
The next morning Uncle Harvey drove us up to the old
Riqueña ranch house where our horses were saddled and waiting. We drove
the herd of about 30 milk cows out the east lane and across the track
just as the sun was peeping over the wave mountain by the lake. As the
cows moved on to the flat into the sea of waving gramma grass they began
to eagerly eat the sweet grass. We had to move back and forth across the
rear of the herd in order to keep them moving at a slow pace to the
south towards the arroyo seco. The flat stretched out before us broken
only by the high banks of the canal in the distance. Finally we came to
the canal and the cows drank eagerly of the cold muddy water. After
drinking their fill, we drove them up over the south bank and onto
another long flat. Dan and I curiously went to look into an old abandond
well. As we approached the well we were hit by an awful smell of
something dead. We forced ourselves to look in and saw that it was a
pile of rotting hides and guts. We could not stand to look very long and
backed off to our waiting horses. As we approached our horses they
smelled that dead smell that we brought with us. Snorting they backed
off suspiciously. We finally mounted and rode up to where Elijio was
trying to move the cows on. Elijio was the workman in charge of the cows
at that time. We were his helpers going along to help him drive and milk
the cows.
It began to get quite hot around noon and the sun seemed
to be burning down on us as we moved slowly along. Suddenly I saw Dan
jump off his horse and hurriedly take down his pants. He was slapping
the back of his pants that were smoking . When I went over to him he
showed me a bad burn on his seat. He had put his box of matches in his
hind pocket where they had ignited from heat and the friction while
riding . Before he could get off and remove his pants, he had received a
bad burn.. We put Dan?s handkerchief over the burn and carefully put his
pants in place. I told Dan to go back home and get his burn tended to
because it was quite serious. Dan returned to the farm to find his
father so that he could take him home.
Elijio and I moved the cows slowly on towards our
destination. About mid afternoon the thunderhead clouds began to roll up
and soon it began to rain with bright flashes of lightning and loud
claps of rolling thunder. The cows would not move into the driving rain.
They simply turned their tail to the driving rain with their heads down
so their ears would not fill with water. We were on an open flat about
fifty yards from the road that went on up to the arroyo seco. Elijio and
I sat our horses with our backs to the rain. Hoping to keep our saddles
as dry as we could. We had put on our jackets but they were soon soaked
through and I could feel the cold water running down my back. It seemed
to me that misearable rain would never stop. Later in the afternoon the
rain slackened to a drizzle. We moved the cows closer to the road so we
would not miss the milk truck when it came by. Soon the truck came along
and unloaded our milk buckets, strainers,and ten gallon milk cans. They
also brought our beds and a little lunch. The truck hurried on to reach
the cow camp before dark. Elijio and I ate our lunch trying to shield it
from the soaking rain.
After eating our lunch at least I felt better and
somewhat strengthened. We poured the water out of the milk buckets and
began to milk the cows. After each cow we would stand up with our stool
in one hand and the bucket of milk in the other and go to the can and
strain the milk into the can. Finally about an hour after dark we
finished the milking. The cows stood quietly chewing their cuds. As we
moved among them, finding those that hadn?t been milked sometimes
pushing one out of the way to get to another. I thought that I was a
pretty good milker but my hands got plenty tired milking all of those
cows. Elijio was a tireless milker and he sang softly as he milked. As
we finished the milking the cows began to lay down for the night. We
rinsed the milk buckets and the the straining cloth with the water from
the can of water that they left us. When we went to get our beds my
quilt was soaking wet. Elijios bedroll was rolled up in a canvas, so his
was not so wet. I took my soggy quilt and laid on one corner and pulled
the bottom up over me, then rolled up in the quilt. I used my wet pants
as a pillow and put my hat over my face and was soon sound asleep.
The next thing I knew Elijio shook my shoulder and said,
"Ya es hora ya salio el carro" -- "It is time the big dipper is coming
up." I unrolled myself and put on my wet pants and jacket. The sky was
full of beautiful bright stars and I could see the big dipper coming up
in the northeastern sky. We milked each cow getting her up from her
night bed. She usually stretched, arching her back and wetting the
ground with her urin as she let down her milk. We had just finished
milking in the growing light of the dawn when the milk truck came along.
We loaded all of the cans of milk and equipment into the truck. I asked
Uncle Jay, who was driving the truck, to please bring me a dry bed and a
canvas for a tent that evening when he came back to camp.
We ate the rest of our lunch for breakfast. My sandwiches
really tasted good with a big cup of warm milk. We moved the cows
letting them feed along on the grass as they moved along. We welcomed
the warm sun. I really enjoyed the coming of the new day. Our clothes
soon dried out and it seemed the whole world was bright and changed from
the rain and darkness from the night before. Everything was fresh and
green and the glistening drops of water still glistened on the leaves of
the occasional bush and weeds along the way. I marveled in the change in
my feelings from the misery of the wet night before to the joy and
happiness of the bright sunshiny day.
The cows seem to move along easier this bright day. About
noon we came over the edge and looked down into the Arroyo Seco to see
three or four different herds of milk cows feeding on the lush grass.
Down along the stream in the shade of the big sycamore trees we could
see the scattered camps. The smoke was rising straight up from the
different camp fires. We were arriving just when they were cooking their
dinner. As we came into the camp my cousin Bud Taylor showed us where
they had left our camp stacked against a big tree with a big canvas tied
over it. Elijio was a good cook and soon had some potatoes and onions
cooking in a big skillet and some rice simmering in a dutch oven. While
the food was cooking he was rolling out some flower tortillas that he
cooked on a round tin from the top of an old fifty gallon drum.
Soon we were eating a delicious hot dinner, sopa de
arroz, potatoes and onions with some delicious chile con queso. Those
fresh flower tortillas just hit the spot with that delicious meal. I
remember that particular meal because I was plenty hungry after almost
two days and a night with just a few sandwiches. In the evenings and the
early mornings after milking the cows we would sit around and drink
Yerba Aniz Tea. I learned to love that Aniz taste especially with plenty
sugar and milk in it.
After dinner we hurriedly tied a rope between two trees
and spread a big canvass over it. Staking it down at the corners and
stretching it to make a tent. We could see the fluffy dark thunder
clouds rolling up into the blue sky. They soon covered the sun and
darkened the world around us. We knew it was going to rain. We had just
gotten all of our camp and beds under the canvas when the big drops of
rain began to sound on the tent. Elijio quickly gathered some dry wood
and climbed under the tent with it. I still remember how good it felt to
lean back against the grub box and look out and see the rain pouring
down without even getting one drop on me. I decided that I loved the
rain. After that day I always went prepared with a poncho or a canvass
to be protected from the rain.
After about a half an hour the rain stopped and the sun
came out. I went out and went down to watch the water rising in the
creek. What a beautiful world with the rain drops glistening in the sun
and the wonderful smell of the fresh rain.
After exploring around the camp and talking to my cousins
Bud and Eldon Elijio came and said it was time to gather the cows and
milk them. The whole camp was stirring and getting ready the buckets and
stools for the purpose of milking the cows, for this is what we were up
there to do.
It was growing dark by the time we got through milking
and our buckets and strainer were washed and hanging on the low bushes
upside down. Uncle Jay had come with our cans and our camp equipment in
plenty of time for our milking.
After a leisurely supper of left overs and hot yerba aniz
tea. I was glad to climb into my warm dry bedroll. Four o'clock in the
morning would come all to soon. On that camp I learned set my mental
alarm and wake up at four o'clock to get up and start milking. At first
glimmer of light in the east the coyotes began to yip out on the big
flat. I could hear the occasional bark of the foxes up the canyon where
the white oak and the pine trees grew. I thought to myself, that would
be a good place to go exploring during the leisure hours of the day.
While leaning my head on the flank of the the cow I would squeeze
downward with all my strength enjoying the sound of the streams of milk
going into the bucket. Soon the sounds became muffled as the foam formed
on the top of the milk. My thoughts would turn to home and realized that
nobody would be up at this hour. I remembered my dog scrappy and made a
mental note to bring him back with me to the camp when I went home for
Sunday.
A couple of years before I had found a little skinny
scrawny little pup cowering in a corner of the mill porch. I talked him
into letting me pick him up. I carried him home and made a little home
in a box for him. I brought him some warm bread and milk and watched
while he ate until his little stomach was bulging out. When it came time
for me to go down to Laselle's to help him milk I put a little string
harness on that little scrawny pup. He soon learned to lead on a leash
and came trotting along beside me. As I saw his little skinny ribs and
his pot belly I laughingly quoted the Mexican saying, "No gordo, pero
panson." When I got down to Laselle's I proudly showed him my new little
pup. He picked him up and looked in his ears and we saw that both his
ears were full of ticks. Big ticks and little ticks lined his beg ears.
LaSelle suggested that we put some creolina in his ears to kill the
ticks. We held that poor little pup and poured that strong screw worm
medicine in his ears. We put him down and stepped back out of the way
while he shook his head violently throwing ticks and medicine in every
direction. He began to yelp and cry because of the burn and sting of
that strong medicine. After we finished milking I slowly led that little
pup home at arms length because of the strong smell of the medicine. I
fed him and put him in his box. He was still trembling from the
pain.
That little pup survived and his ears healed up. He grew
sleek and fat. I would take him down to LaSelle's regularly to show him
off. LaSelle had a little pup that he called Jeff. Taylor Abegg had
gotten two little pups and called them Mutt and Jeff his mother insisted
that he give one away. He gave Jeff to LaSelle. We thought that it would
be a good idea to teach our pups to be good fighters. We got them
together and rubbed their noses together until they both started
growling and we turned them loose to fight. They would really go after
it. Even though my pup was smaller and short haired while Jeff was
heavier and long haired, he would not give up but fight ferociously. We
named him Scrappy because of his willingness to scrap and fight.
As the three dogs grew up they became very good friends
and would fight together against any other dogs that we set them on.
They especially hated the Romney dogs that lived across the street from
LaSelle's home. If those dogs came out into the street under the wire by
the irrigation ditch Jeff and Scrappy would rush out into the street and
take them on. Soon the Romney dogs didn't dare to come out into the
street. If they came out cautiously they would keep a lookout and when
they would see our dogs coming after them they would run and go under
that wire into their lot and turn around and growel and bark with all
their furry. They felt safe behind the fence.
Whenever any stray dogs would come around our place
Scrappy would run and jump on them and put them to flight. On the street
if any other dogs were around all I had to do was Say,
"Ssssssssick-em!". Scrappy would jump any dog and fight ferociously no
matter how big they were. He usually won because he would not give
up.
One day some calves wandered into our lot off the street.
I set Scrappy on them to drive them out. He would run and bite them on
the hamstring and really make them run. The last one, he grabbed it on
the ham string and hung on. Scrappys weight stopped the poor calf
bellowing loudly it sank to the ground. I ran out and dragged Scrappy
off scolding him and slapping him to make him turn loose. The calf got
up and ran out of the lot never to return.
I have written about Scrappy to set the stage for what
happened one day at the cow camp. One day my cousin Eldon Robinson and I
were riding the High Mesas southeast of the camp. We were riding along
among the big pine trees. The mesa was covered with high grass and wild
flowers blooming profusely all over the mesa. We were riding slowly
along enjoying the beautiful new country and the fresh scenery all
around us. Scrappy was following obediently behind my horse. Suddenly
Scrappy silently rushed forward in pursuit of a little white tailed
spotted faun. He caught the faun by the ham string and shook it
violently. I jumped off swiftly ran to the rescue but I was to late. The
little faun?s hind leg was badly broken at the hock. The faun was
bleeding piteously as I gathered him into my arms The mother came
bounding into the clearing bleating an answer to her baby faun. Scrappy
rushed after the doe. She simply turned and bounded away with her white
flag of a tail disappearing among the trees and bushes. Scrappy came
back excitedly looking every where. He didn't see which way the doe went
because of the tall grass. I was crying softly. I don't remember from
excitement or sadness for the plight of that poor little faun. I carried
him carefully back to camp.
When we got back to camp I realized that I could not
possibly bind up his leg or relieve his suffering. I borrowed a .22
rifle and relieved his pain and misery with a shot in the back of his
head. I cut his throat and bled him carefully. I removed the skin
carefully so that it could be tanned and preserved with the hair on. I
rubbed the little hide with salt so that it would not spoil before I got
it to the tannery. My next trip home I took it to Don Porfirio Flores
who was head of the tannery and asked him to tan it with the hair on. I
kept that pretty little soft hide with the little white spots on it for
many years. It later adorned the club house of the Winged Four on the
shelf where we had an ancient pendulum clock.
The next day after milking and breakfast. My cousin Bud
and I rode over the high ridge and down into the Cieneguita canyon. We
went up the canyon trail aways then took the trail up the steep incline
on to the Llanos Cristianos. We rode into the wide expanse of the
beautiful Llanos covered with thick high gramma grass. What a beautiful
sight. This unbroken plain stretched to the south until it met the arch
of the blue sky. There was not a tree on the whole Llano just the
undulating heads of the tall grass. To the east the mountains sloped up
to the pine covered ridges. To the west the high gunsight mountain was
blue in the distance. Our horses walked eagerly with high grass swishing
against their legs as they walked. A Meadow Lark flew by with its
characteristic flight. With the beating of wings for a couple of seconds
then gliding for the same amount of time, flutter and glide, flutter and
glide. It flew swiftly ahead and landed in the tall grass. Then we could
hear its warbling song singing, "Tortillas con chicharos." I listened
again carefully and again came the warbling song, "Tortillas con
chicharos." I do not remember who told me that the Meadow Larks song
said that Spanish phrase.
As we traveled ahead we could see the Meadowlark jumping
to catch the grasshoppers that were clinging too the stems of the high
grass. Flipping its wide stubby tail it would run from one to the other.
We could see the dark bow tie at its throat above the broad yellow
breast. With a whir of his round wings he flew swiftly away only to
settle down in the tall grass ahead. There we were two ten year old care
free cowboys riding over the beautiful prairie. The only thing I wore
for a cowboy was my pocket knife and a leather scabbard on my belt and
my straw hat that I had tried shape into a cowboy hat. Instead of boots
I wore shop shoes made of heavy green leather. We called them clod
hoppers. I was happy to have those for I had earned them by gleaning
wheat. Still we were cowboys riding our horses and exploring new
country. Walking our horses along suddenly they shied back and to one
side as a covey of quail exploded out of the grass in front of us. They
quickly scattered flying swiftly in every direction. As they landed we
could hear them calling one to another so that they could get together
again. We could hear their plaintive call that seem to say, "Pa Tras! Pa
Tras! Pa Tras! Pa Tras!"
We came to a little low swell with a little clear stream
of water in it that came trickling down in a little draw on the east
slope. All around this little trickle of water we could see clumps of
bright green Yerba Aniz with bright yellow flowers on the top. We got
off our horses and began to gather the aromatic herb. We would break off
the stems at the bottom a few at a time. Being careful not to break off
the grass with the herb stems. Soon we each had an arm full and we tied
it on the back of our saddle with our saddle strings. We suddenly
realized that the sky was dark and the sun was hid behind those big dark
fluffy thunderheads. We mounted our horses and started back at a fast
Gait.
As we approached the rim of the Llanos a loud clap of
thunder boomed into the canyon. To our surprise we heard some loud
booming gobbles coming from the canyon below. My heart stood still as I
realized that there were some big wild turkeys down in the canyon. We
descended down the steep trail looking anxiously to see the turkeys. We
never did see them. We hurried along the trail over the ridge down to
our camp in the next canyon.
When we got back to camp Ramoncito was there having come
to take my place at the camp. Our care free time at the cow camp was
over and we had to go back to school. Ramoncito was a small slight older
man that had worked on the Riqueña for many years. He was a Ponce of the
Ponce family that lived in Old Casas Grandes.
The next morning I rolled up my bed and tied it with a
rope that it came tied with. I went out to eat a fresh flower tortilla
still warm off the grill, with a glass of warm milk fresh from the cow
that tasted sweet from the sweet grass that the cows had been eating.
This combination had been a favorite of mine especially in the evening
after a longs days work. I would have a hot tortilla and a warm cup of
foamy milk to hold my hunger until I could get home for supper. My
cousins and I rode the milk truck home that Saturday morning after
spending over a month milking cows and spending our carefree days riding
around that beautiful country.
When we got to the cheese factory Uncle Jay formed in
line to deliver the milk. In our turn Uncle Jay drove up to the window
got out and began to lift the cans and push them through the window
where they were received. Each can was weighed and the amount put down
under the name of the owner of the can. We could hear the man knock off
each lid and pour out the milk into the big long cheese vat. Then he
would pass it on to the washer. The man who washed the cans washed them
thoroughly with a long handled brush in very hot detergent water. Then
he would place the can upside down over a hot stream of steam and steam
it thoroughly then pass it out the exit window. After unloading all of
the cans Uncle Jay drove on to the exit platform and loaded all of the
cans, telling us to match up the lids with each can.
Eldon took his bedroll and walked east across the street
to his home. Uncle Jay drove past the mill and dropped me off at my
home. I was greeted warmly first by Scrappy, then by my family. It was
very good to be home.
These early experiences helped me in my growing up years.
I had worked taking the place of a hired man helping our family in those
hard times when money was very scarce.
We love you all and hope you will enjoy the bit of
history from 75 years ago.