The Umpteenth Owyhee Fourth of July Parade

July 4 2020

Way up a crick from a tiny little town in Owyhee the best little July 4th parade in America takes place. 

For the umpteenth year, rain or shine (it’s always shine), Parade Mistress Linda and her random Critters put on a homemade parade for a few select guests. 

Each year, you never know quite what the parade will bring (neither does Linda…). Linda may have plans, but her horse, mule, miniature horse, a randy mini-mule (who was gelded shortly after that one year’s parade), donkey, jackass, dogs, etc, get dressed up, but they all have free choice to participate in whatever capacity they choose.

This year Linda, aboard Ted the Wonder Horse, carrying Our Nation’s Flag, ponying Hattie the Spotted Mule, led the procession of assorted dogs, and was joined by our dog Luna and, briefly, my horse Stormy until Hattie the Mule kicked him and he left, no longer interested in parades. Linda’s goats didn’t come all the way up this year, (we missed them!) and the pigs simply refused to leave Linda’s driveway.

But as usual, it was the best parade ever, the best kept secret in Owyhee.

Rent-a-Cowpoke: The "C" Team

Sunday March 15 2015

A day after the historic Joyce Ranch roped and branded their calves with the skilled "A" team of Owyhee cowboys and cowgirls (post coming soon), it was the "C" team that helped move another rancher Don's cows out onto the range.

We weren't quite "F" students/riders; we definitely weren't the "A" team; but we were the solid "C" team (as in, the up-the-Crick team).

Don, plus 7 of us Crick people moved 50-60 head of cows with calves a couple of miles (most of it with a fence to help guide the cows on one side), across a highway, and into another pasture closer to the mountains. (And it was a southwest Idaho highway on a Sunday, with not too much traffic.) One horse and rider were first timers. One rider was a first timer on 25-year-old Krusty, who's been to France and Dubai, so he can do anything. I rode The Dude, who was much better behaved this time than last time.

There were no bucking fiascos, no lost calves, and no riders got lost: the "C" team did not fare too badly.

We were good enough that Don fed us lunch at the end.

Don, guiding his herd of somewhat rank angus cows (well, rank if they're squeezed in chutes for branding and vaccinations!)



Connie on Saruq, who would rather be off galloping somewhere. He's sneering here at the cows.



First-timer Abe on old-timer Krusty.


That's Rocky and half-Arab half-mustang Calvin on the left. Rocky's from up-the-Crick too, but he's from lower-upper, and he's more experienced than most of us cowpokes.


Threading the needle - squeezing the herd through the final gate.


Carol on August, Regina and Mufasa, and Don on his horse, surveying a job well done.

Birth

Sunday June 24 2012

'Twas not a dark and stormy night, but a late afternoon for a mare weeks overdue.

In all my years around horses, I've never witnessed a foal being born. Carol called me this evening, "Mirage is having her baby now!"

Judy and I rushed over, and…. waited.

The mare laid down and got up, laid down, rolled, got up, paced, laid down and strained and rested and strained and rolled… I started getting a little nervous. Was she supposed to be rolling?? (yes) How long was this supposed to take? What if something went wrong? We live out in the boonies - it's not like a vet can get out here short of a few hours.

When the mare's water broke, we knew it shouldn't be long now. But we waited… and waited… She'd lay there, strain, lay there, sit and look at her belly, lay some more, get up, go right back down, lay there, sit and look at her belly… for HOURS it seemed.

Finally, we could see the foal sack starting to emerge, but that stage seemed to take forever, too, with the mare getting up and down a more few times.

Eventually we could make out a hoof inside the sack, then another slightly behind the first (the correct presentation), but even that stage seemed to take forever, with the mare getting up and down a few more times again.

Then she laid down, and then came the final heaving, but not much more of the foal progressed into the world… and then the foal sack broke. Not good.

Carol was already there, had her hands on the one leg… but she could no longer find the other leg. The clock was ticking - if the foal didn't get out soon, he'd suffocate. Finally she found the leg and started pulling when the mare contracted… but the foal still wasn't moving, and now it was getting a little more urgent. Judy and I jumped in, each of us grabbing a foal leg, while Carol pulled the sack off the baby's nose, and when the mare pushed, we three humans pulled for all we were worth... and out slid the first 3/4 (the widest part) of the baby.

His tongue was hanging out of his mouth, and he looked… limp… well, dead...

and then he blinked an eye.


LJ Owyhee Quartzite was one Big-A** live foal. When I say he was big, I mean he was born with giraffe legs! I don't see how that thing fit in the mare much less came out of her.

No time to waste in this new world - within five minutes he was working on standing up.


That was enough horse birthing for me - too stressful!

check out the bottom of the foal feet when they're born!


The night report from Carol was that he made it up and nursed, and the mare passed the afterbirth.

Carol's photo of The Big Q on his first day on earth.

And all is well on the crick in Owyhee.