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Archive for the ‘Caps – Tammy’s Cowdogs’ Category

My folks started their family in a part of the Sandhills of Nebraska in Grant County. The closest town of any size was Ogallala and it was basically 68 miles away. We traveled a sand trail or road from the cook house to the “main road”. The main road was a one-lane oil strip that ran N & S. On the N end of the oil strip was Hwy 2 and Whitman. On the S end was a highway that ran from Tryon to Arthur then on S to Ogallala. The drive on that one-lane oil road was the most beautiful drive. And it still is the most beautiful drive in my memories. Tall, lofty, choppy hills. Winding flatter areas that snaked along the edges of some sub-irrigated wet meadows which led to more ascents and descents of those huge sandy hills that laid from the NW to the SE. Hills built and formed by the blowing prevailing winds chasing the sand into mounds. With time some grasses took a hold then the winds blew again to cover the grasses with more blowing, drifting and piling sands. Sands as light as dust. My mom referred to the sand and the hills as “hell” on many occasions. My dad referred to the hills as “a gift from God”. On a few occasions, my mom would take my brother and I to Ogallala on Sundays so that we could go to church. There was a Lutheran church in Ogallala. We always sat in the back at the end of a row. Sometimes we would get there on time. But a lot of the time we were late. Sometimes we would leave early. Sometimes we would leave after greeting the pastor after the service. Before we would leave town my mom would take us to a store. She would give my brother and I a nickel, a dime or once in awhile a quarter. I cannot tell you the joy that those nickels, dimes and quarters brought to me. She gave us that money with love and we knew that what she gave us was all she had. It truly was all she had. I bought the same thing every time. The little chocolate balls colored green, yellow, orange and brown that came in a little clear plastic wrapped tube. The money I had left was given to mom and when we’d get home she would put the money in my black Angus bull piggy bank. My mom always got herself a Cherry Mash. My brother would get the little packages of licorice nibs. We’d get back in the car for our nearly 2 hour journey N to home. The key to the joys of that candy gift was to make it last all the way home and maybe even have some left to share with dad. My dad loved chocolate too. Those days of “giving” from my mom have stuck with me my entire life. The pure, simple joy of a nickel, a dime or the occasional quarter. Love in a piece of metal that gave more than 68 miles of sheer joy. The joy of sucking on each individual chocolate ball. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if the entire world could see how much greater life could be if everyone took up the gift of giving…giving without expecting or demanding something in return? Now today, the cowdog processing crew and I are going to be giving some cows some range cubes, taking out their CIDRs, giving them some Lutalyse, and returning on Tuesday to give those range sisters some Protege Profit swimmers. We hope those swimmers give some range sister eggs some company and hook up to make babies to be seen in the fall of 2015. Remember, what I do today is what I will receive in a year. Take up the notion of giving…giving without taking. It really is a good thing.
Happy Saturday!
Sandhills Road to Home by Robert G. Swan

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In August 2002, I purchased my first Hangin’ Tree Cowdog. He was just a pup, but ready to work. I named him Bert and for the next four years, he and I completed all the ranch work ourselves. When we started our journey together, neither knew that a mere 14 months later, he would save my life. How do you ever repay a cowdog for such an enormous gesture? In the time after that, I came to realize the only thanks he wanted was the chance to work with me, beside me, day-in and day-out. Bert was larger than life. He was smart. He was athletic. He was loyal.

In every cattle working situation, he knew what to do without instruction. I could simply point out a sick calf in the wean lot and he’d quietly and respectfully take the calf to the corral and ease it up the alley to the chute. When we’d finish working a set of cows, he knew to gather them up and what gate to head them to to go out to pasture. I could leave him at a gate, go feed, come back and he’d still be at the gate, waiting for my return. If a cow’s calf was hidden in the timber, I could tell Bert to “find the baby” and he’d put his nose to the ground, search until he found it, return to me and take me back to the calf. He simply had the ability to size up any situation and apply the right pressure and make everything work. We’d get done working cattle and you could tell him, “Bert, thanks for your help” and he would look at me with a big smile – as if to say, “You are welcome, now come on let’s go”. We’d be driving down the road and he’d take his right paw and pull my arm so that I’d rub his neck. Or take his head and bump under my elbow and say, “Hey, rub my back.” And, he loved taking his pups out and mentoring them. His mate for life was Hawk and he truly loved her. They were an amazing pair and produced some tremendous offspring. Bert was majestic—more than any other animal I have ever known.

On September 6, 2010, after an accident on the ranch and the gallant efforts of the University of Missouri Vet School, I lost Bert. Tammy’s Cowdogs exists today because of Bert. He is the foundation of my cowdog program and the model all my cowdogs must live up to. He took more than eight of my years with him. I will forever be grateful for the joy and loyalty he brought to my life. Words will never be able to describe how much Hawk and I will miss him

-from the Welcome Page of the website of Tammy’s Cowdogs “Tribute to Bert”

Today, Sep. 05, 2014, the rural route mail lady stops. She’s got a box from Idaho. I can hardly sign the card. Scott Jason Hall, his wife Betty, and Bret Bret N Melanie Haskett? I cannot put words to the remarkable pendant. Scott, your are gifted my friend…the itsy bitsy engraving on the gold, the silver engraving of Bert…I am speechless. Betty, the rein chains are, “Some kind of wonderful.” Bret, your rawhide braiding of the romal reins is, “Perfectly completes this gifted piece.” Bert, 4 years ago today we sat out in the grass at the Univ. of MO vet hospital and took in our last conversation of how much we loved each other. And 15 hrs. later a blood clot to your lungs ended your life. I got the call around 9:30 AM to hurry to your side there were problems. I tried to get there Bert, I did. But, I drove home on the 6th of September with a dog in a box…heartbroken. My life has not been the same since. I will take you with me when I leave here to meet up with you again.

~I love you Bert.
Bert Pendant...Fri. Sep. 05, 2014 001

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This is just a “preview”.
Don’t call or write yet, please.
I need to work out the details of pricing, shipping, payment methods.
But here is a “PEEK” at the new caps.

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